Untitled - ScholarWorks Home - California State University, Northridge

Javier made the cook fry the chicken so that the breading hid the green color.
It still had a nauseous tint. The whole store smelled like green chicken.
"You can, but I won't," I replied. He didn't replace the grease in the fryer and
exposed the rest of the night's sales items to the grease of the green chicken, though he
eventually gave up trying to get me to agree that he should sell rancid meat.
I didn't look up to Javier, not even for job guidance, but he did defend me
twice during my six month stay as Team Member, though I sensed he felt somehow
obliged to keep me safe from harm rather than simply holding a sincere concern for my
well-being. Customers can be angry and inflict horrible punishments on you for things
which are either beyond your control or just plain silly. Once a man bought hot wings for
his son and, by some error of the fryer, the hot wings were red in the middle. The boy
had not eaten in days because he'd had the flu. His father returned with the chicken,
very little of the red meat on the bones, yelling that his son had been poisoned.
for this one.
"I'm sorry sir, let me get my manager." I wasn't going to take responsibility
I went back and told Javier what was going on, but instead of following him
to the front I hid behind the food warmer to listen. Javier asked the man why he'd give a
boy fast food buffalo wings after the stomach flu, and why he let the boy eat so many
before stopping him, and why he was back here instead of at the hospital. The man
never contacted the store again.
Javier walked back toward the cook, mumbling.
"Pinche juera."
He started talking to the cook, and I went to check the lobby for dirty tables.
The second time Javier defended me against a customer regarded condiments.
The sign on the drive thru board read "Request Condiments at Pick Up Window." I was
working drive thru and a man in an off-white Cadillac had asked for condiments at the
board when he placed his order. He never asked again and I never placed the sauce in
his bag, as I was already taking the next order while packing his order, a task which can
lead to forgetfulness. He was very adamant about his sauce. I saw his Cadillac five min­
utes later. I stood still while he parked, but as he ran, trench coat trailing behind, toward
the window, I slammed it shut and yelled for Javier. Thanks to movie images trench
coats make me think of rifles and men who don't get condiments are angry men. Javier
redirected the man's attention from me to the sign he should have read while ordering.
his condiments."
When Javier was finished he turned to me. "You should have just given him
"He didn't ask at the window and I didn't remember." I walked to the back to
find something to clean. Javier was talking under his breath again. Something about una
muchacha terco y estupido.
Outside of the occasional raging customer and the dipping of my arms into
huge buckets of cole slaw, the job was under stimulating. Sometimes, when it was slow, I
66