I managed a McDonald’s restaurant last night. I’m so annoyed about it.

I started working for McDonald’s in Milford, Massachusetts in 1987 when I was 16 years-old.

Within a year, I was promoted to manager while still in high school, studying my management training binders while sitting math class. During my senior year of high school, I was working more than 40 hours a week for many weeks while taking a full class load.

So dumb.

After high school, I moved in with friends and continued to manage the McDonald’s in Milford. Having been kicked out of my home, I was happy to have a job and a regular paycheck. I was eventually promoted to Second and then First Assistant manager and sent to management restaurants in Norwood, Hanson, Brockton, and finally Bourne.

In 1993, while managing the Bourne restaurant, I was fired from McDonald’s after a $7,000 deposit went missing and the police arrested and charged me with the crime. While my trial was pending, I went back to work for a different McDonald’s restaurant in Brockton. This was a franchise store, so the owner, Andy Cheung, was free to hire me. I worked from 5:00 PM until 1:00 AM, five nights a week, while working during the day at South Shore Bank in Stoughton, Massachusetts.

I was working more than 80 hours per week in order to save the $25,000 legal fee that my attorney required for what ultimately resulted in a single day of work.

Oddly enough, both South Shore Bank (where that $7,000 deposit was supposed to have been deposited) and McDonald’s would ultimately testify against me in the trial, even though I was also working for both of them.

The judge was quite confused. So were the legal representatives from South Shore Bank and McDonald’s. Neither knew that I was actually working for their companies when they arrived in court that day.

When I was found not guilty, I moved to Connecticut, and after working for almost a year at the now-defunct Bank of Hartford, I went to work for the McDonald’s restaurant on Prospect Avenue in Hartford in hopes of finding a flexible schedule that would allow my dream of going to college to finally become a reality. This was a company owned restaurant, but they didn’t know about my history in Massachusetts, so I was hired on the spot.

Former McDonald’s Managers of the Year who don’t require a second of training don’t pop up very often. They were thrilled to see me walk in the door.

I managed that restaurant for five years while I went to college – first Manchester Community College and then Trinity College and St. Joseph’s University simultaneously. I worked on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays from 4:00 AM until 1:00 PM and on Saturdays and Sundays from 4:00 AM until 3:00 PM.

I took afternoon and evening classes on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday and spent all of Tuesday and Thursday at school.

I don’t know how I did it.

After graduating in the spring of 1999, I quit my job at McDonald’s and finally launched my teaching career.

In total, I managed seven different McDonald’s restaurants for about 13 years between the ages of 16 and 29.

Happily, I haven’t worked in a McDonald’s restaurant in more than 21 years. Teaching, writing, and performing have replaced burgers and food cost and P&L statements.

This is why I find it exceedingly annoying to spend an entire evening dreaming about running a shift at McDonald’s, which I did last night. Managing a McDonald’s restaurant was by far the most challenging job I have ever had, so spending a night dealing with the multitude of problems and pressures that I faced on a daily basis was incredibly awful.

I was exhausted when I awoke. Stressed out and ready for bed. Again.

Thanks to a violent, horrific armed robbery while working at the McDonald’s in Brockton and a subsequent lifetime of PTSD, a frequent, reoccurring dream for me is the nightmare scenario that I suffered in the back of that restaurant. I return to that terrible night often in my dreams and relive those terrifying moments with exceptional clarity. I often awaken startled, sweating, and sometimes crying out.

But honestly, this terrible nightmare is somehow might be better than working a full shift while I sleep. There’s nothing worse than spending a night working a job for which I will never be paid.

That might be slightly hyperbolic, but not by much.