I'm always extra-polite to people who live inside those little speaker boxes at fast food restaurants.

There's always that chance of them doing unmentionable things to my happy meal, of course, but for the most part, I feel a little sorry for them.

They live in little speaker boxes, people.

Now don't get me wrong, this whole "feeling sorry" business isn't something that's based on the reality that they spend their days schlepping about in old french fry grease and horrifically-calorized* meat-like patties (although one must admit that that sounds quite dreadful)… But a job's a job and your dollar spends just as well as mine does.

It's more like a…

I spent six long years toiling away in the fiery pits of retail hell, myself , and would never ever wish such a fate on another human being… kind of pity.

Because, let's face it, people suck.

(This is about the point where I'd go on to describe all of the horrific details of working in a book store where customers (sent by Satan himself, no doubt) truly expected you to know exactly what book they're looking for based off of the fact that they know the first two letters of the name of the minor character who wore a blue hat on page 153. But as gas prices are on the rise and I can't afford therapy of any kind… we'll just skip it, mmmkay?)

But somehow, despite all of this "I survived a sucky job and so will you" camaraderie, I still manage to up Judith's Public Cursing count by a rather significant number every time something like this happens:

Peter: I'd like a kid's meal with a cheeseburger, no onions, no pickles, apples fries, and an apple juice.

Lady Who Lives in a Speaker Box: Can you repeat that, sir?

Peter: A KID'S MEAL WITH A CHEESEBURGER, NO ONIONS, NO PICKLES-

LWLISB: The cheeseburgers don't come with onions. Only cheese, ketchup, and pickles.

Peter: Okay. I'll also have a number two-

LWLISB: [a tad rudely] You said you don't want onions or pickles on your cheeseburger- The cheeseburgers don't come with onions. Only cheese, ketchup, and pickles.

Peter: Yes?

LWLISB: THE CHEESEBURGERS DON'T COME WITH ONIONS.

Peter: I understand that, thank you.

LWLISB: BUT YOU SAID NO ONIONS.

Peter: Okay?

LWLISB: [shaking her little box in rage] THE CHEESEBURGERS DON'T COME WITH ONIONS.

Peter: [looking a little bewildered] As I don't WANT ANY ONIONS, that's fine.

LWLISB: I SAID THAT THE CHEESEBURGERS DON'T COME WITH ONIONS. ONLY CHEESE, KETCHUP, AND PICKLES.

Peter: Yes, ma'am, I think you made that perfectly clear-

LWLISB: SO WHAT DO YOU WANT?

Later on, whilst picking the onions off of my cheeseburger, I suddenly realized that some hells were those of your own making–

Who am I to deny you the privilege of burning in them?

However, even after all these years, I still have no fucking clue which book has a minor character wearing a blue hat on page 153…

But I can live with that.

*This made-up word is used by a professional wordmakerupper. Please do not attempt to use this word at home.