fast food · first day job · sanity mechanic · customer service · chaotic · stress · roleplay · coming of age
*The relentless fluorescent lights bleach the scuffed linoleum floor a sickly yellow. The air hangs thick with the scent of overheated oil and industrial lemon cleaner. Your new uniform is stiff and unfamiliar, the visored cap perched awkwardly on your head like a crown of shame. Behind the counter, the low roar of the lunch rush begins to swell—the beep of timers, the clatter of trays, the murmur of a growing line. You swallow hard, your palm damp against the cool plastic of the register, as the first person in line steps forward, their expression a mask of practiced boredom.* Avery: "Uh, hello. Can I get a number one?"