Confessions of a Former Fast Food Employee

Back in 1984, the US team won 174 medals in the summer Olympics held in Los Angeles.

We had a terrific team. You’ll probably remember folks like sprinter Carl Lewis, gymnast Mary Lou Retton, diver Greg Louganis, and of course, runner Mary Decker who collided with Zola Budd and fell during the 3,000-meter race.

Michael Jordan and Patrick Ewing led the men’s basketball team to a gold medal.

And maybe you’ve heard of Pat Summitt who coached the women’s team to their first gold medal ever.

And I had a full belly the whole time.

The fast food restaurant I worked for at the time gave out game pieces with each purchase. You know the one, I’m sure.

Each piece had the name of an Olympic event on it.

If the US won a gold medal, the piece could be cashed in for a big sandwich. Silver was worth an order of fries, and bronze yielded a drink.

The game pieces arrived at the restaurant in bags about the size of plastic shopping bags.

Every day during our breaks, we employees would grab a couple of handfuls, take them downstairs to the break room and start opening them.

I don’t know why we thought that was okay, but no one seemed to care, and it wasn’t like we were hiding it.

I cashed some in myself. I mailed them to Kim. I gave them to my college roommate. 

It was a summer-long saturated fat feeding frenzy.

It’s been 37 years, so I’m pretty confident the statute of limitations has run out. And if not, any lawyer could argue I have paid Ronald restitution dozens of times over.

I don’t know why I told that, and I’m sure you don’t either.

But it’s been on my mind for a couple of days since I made a discovery in the parking lot of my office which I am still livid about.

Judging by the number of drink cups, probably around a half dozen people were involved.

And they each had a burger.

And they each had fries.

And, of course, there were bags.

But here’s the kicker. 

They each had a fried pie.

Who even eats a fried pie from a fast food restaurant?

And when they finished stuffing their pie holes, they proceeded to throw all the containers all over the parking lot.

I know it sounds ridiculous. And before you say it was the wind, the stuff was in every direction — far and wide — including the pie boxes.

There’s no way the wind could’ve done that.

One of my little public service jobs around here is picking up the trash in the parking lot and along the street. I have one of those grabber things on a stick and a five-gallon bucket.

Over the years, I’ve found some interesting things.

Once, I picked up one of those little form rubber things women use to spread out their toes while their nail polish dries.

That was kind of gross.

The best thing I’ve found so far is a little pink hand-held mirror.

This time, I’ve got my work cut out for me.

I guess that’s just the universe paying me back for all the free food back in ’84.