A New Story I'm Working On

“Two number fives, one Hawaiian Mudslide and a Double Chocolate Fudge Whoopee,” I mumble into the loudspeaker and type the codes into the register. “$14.50.” I look at the overweight lady standing in front of the counter, rummaging through her oversized purse muttering something about a coupon she got from the Sunday paper. I let out a huge sigh and tap my freshly painted red nails against the linoleum surface. I don’t see what the big deal is: I mean the coupon is only fifty cents off- I highly doubt she’ll break the bank.
While I’m impatiently waiting, I begin to scratch at the sleeve of my bright orange polyester Tastee Burger uniform. I’ve been working here for six months and I’m still not used to the cheap, itchy fabric. Come to think of it, I’m still not used to this whole idea of having a job. I only got it to get my aunt, Sonya, off of my back. I hate the smell of old grease from countless numbers of grilled hamburgers with unspecified added ingredients and stale french-fries. Let alone the pesky customers that refuse to use the drive-thru and bring their bratty four year olds who spill their sodas and scream the entire time because they don’t like the toy they got with their kids’ meal. Or the anal customers who, “Asked for pickles, not relish,” and demand to speak to the manager when you so much as roll your eyes.
When the woman finally gives up her quest for the phantom coupon, she hands me fifteen dollars and just as I open the register to retrieve her change, out the corner of my eye I see my boss, Mr. Bradley standing to my right, jotting down notes in a small notepad for MEE: Monthly Employee Evaluation. All the workers get rated on a scale of 1-50. with 1 being the worst. If you get below a 35- they’re supposed to fire you. Mr. Bradley always gives me a 35: just enough so that I don’t get fired but little enough so that I’m stuck taking out the garbage and mopping the floors after hours. I wish he would just fire me.
“50 cents is your change.” I hand the two quarters over and feel a sweaty palm on my shoulder, gripping tight.
“Ms. Greene, what do we say to this fine young lady?” Mr. Bradley, asks, mocking me with his dull blue eyes.
I slowly turn my head and glare at him, and for once I hope he can read my mind. “Thank you for going the Tastee Burger way, have a tasty meal every day.”