Working Fast Food is the Anti Christ

I wake up every day and drive to a building where I put on a uniform and smile at people who treat me like I personally ruined their morning because we ran out of hash browns. I stand on my feet for 5 hours, get yelled at over 3 cents, and watch grown adults have full mental breakdowns in a drive thru over a sauce packet. And at the end of all that, after the grease and the heat and the customers who think 'have a good day' is an invitation to argue, I walk out with $77.50 in my pocket. Not enough to do anything meaningful with, just enough to keep going. Just enough to remind me that this is temporary, that there's a plan, that somewhere between the McNuggets and the morning shifts there's a version of my life that looks completely different. But right now, today, I make $77 dollars to survive and I give every single dollar a job the second it hits my account. That's the reality. That's where I'm at. And somehow I'm okay with it.