The sweltering heat from the greasy fries and scalding grills did not help the situation that Brianna had found herself in. Running back and forth from the registers to the holding area for the food to the counter, then back to registers to start the process over and over and over. Alarms were buzzing. People were complaining. Managers were yelling. And co-workers were crying, it was yet again another typical lunch rush at McDonald’s. She performed this act until the glorious time came when she could finally get off work and go rest at her home. Lounge around in her boy shorts and t-shirt, surf the web, watch videos of Markipiler, a famous YouTube star, and dream of getting away from that place she so rightly named “McHell”.
Brianna had been working at this establishment for about two years. She was a service person, always on the front line. That meant that she dealt with the raging costumers, grumpy managers, and unbearable co-workers. On the rare occasion she would open up her feelings about the work place, her mom and dad would tell her to leave, to find another job. Though, to Brianna, that was asking her to stop something she had begun. She was a tenacious girl, who didn’t like giving up what she had started. So, no matter how much bull crap she had to put up with, she pressed on. But, even the patience of Job has his limits.
The McDonald’s she was hired to work at, was one off an exit from route 23, up another exit then on top of a hill. Able to be seen from the highway but other than that there was nothing else around. The job wasn’t all bad on the surface. She got paid $7.50 an hour; one quarter over minimum wage. That was one of the pleasant things about this job. Her favorite position to work was what they called the back booth. The back booth is where the worker takes the money from the people in the drive-thru and it’s away from all the other workers and raging customers. She was able to listen to music on her phone back there to keep her motivated to work. The co-workers were a blast to be around. A lot of them joked with each other about costumers and their daily lives. She had three people she would consider friends. Most of the managers were nice too. Her favorite manager was Herbert.
He was a man in his early to middle thirties, blonde hair cut to neat perfection and forest green eyes. Brianna had to admit that she had a slight crush on her boss. Often times he would come back to the back booth and just vent to her about the problems he was facing that day. Whether it was other employees doing their jobs wrong or customers making outrageous complaints, Herbert went to Brianna to vent. One time he even came back and started singing “Carry one my Wayward Son” with her as it played over the radio.
Her least favorite manager was Cynthia. Cynthia is the kind of woman who thinks she is all that but there is nothing there at all. She constantly flirted with all attractive male customers that would come in, and it was no secret that she had an active crush on Herbert. She always wore way too much eye shadow and eye liner, and constantly complained about her weight and her diet she was on. Brianna never knew the true color of Cynthia’s eyes because of the over exaggerated make up she wore. Cynthia also never did any of her work. If she was on the headset to take orders from drive-thru, she would talk to customers at front counter or other employees instead of taking the orders.
Brianna once heard Herbert say, “She does everything wrong, but if you go to her about it she denies it left and right. Because according to her, she can do no wrong.”
Those things made Brianna dislike Cynthia, but what made her absolutely hate the woman manager was when she first started her job, Cynthia would hit her if she messed up. The first few weeks of working there, Brianna was put on the front lines to work the cash register. She was friendly as could be, a bright big smile and cheerful voice welcomed in the customers. Even though she was a fast learner and didn’t need any more help, Cynthia still felt the need to stand over Brianna’s back and watch her every move.
When the customer was finished, Brianna asked if that was all. A simple question right? That’s when Cynthia first hit Brianna on the arm. “That’s strike one.”
Brianna was puzzled by this action, and heaven knows what the customer must have been thinking about this. She then asked if the order was for here or to go. That is when the second strike came. “That’s strike two.”
What the heck was Cynthia doing? Was this kind of behavior even allowed by a manager? She took a deep breath and turned back to the customer with her smile but now her eyes looked pained. She then thanked the customer, gave them the receipt and told them their order number. Then the final blow hit her arm. “That’s strike three. Gosh Brianna, you are doing awful.”
Brianna took a deep breath and turned to face the shorter woman with a glare and a big smile. “Cynthia, all of the other managers compliment me on the way I do things up here on the register. And until they say otherwise, I will continue to run things this way.”
Cynthia put her hand on her hips, and pushed her hips to the right. Her mouth gawked a little and her eyes narrowed. “Well you just wait until I tell Herbert you asked if the order was for here or to go!”
Brianna only gave a smile. She knew Herbert would side with her instead of Cynthia. “Do it.” The female manager gasped and took a step back. Then she stomped her foot against the red tile floor before marching off toward the manager’s office. Herbert never came to tell Brianna anything, so the chipper employee chalked that as a victory.
Another incident Brianna had with Cynthia was when they were giving away Pokémon toys in their happy meals. A child wanted a specific Pokémon and Brianna, being the nerd she is, knew exactly which one the child was talking about. She went and dug through the metal bin where the toys were held and Cynthia came up, “What are you doing?”
“I’m looking for a Yveltal toy for a little girl.” Brianna didn’t even look up to the older woman above her.
“You know what those creatures are by name. God, you are such a freaking nerd.”
Brianna knew she was a nerd, and proud of it. Though, the way Cynthia said it sent fire through her veins. She had already had a rough day and just wanted to find this child a toy and here Cynthia was making these rude remarks. “Cynthia, just shut up. I am just looking for the toy.”
“Did you just tell me to shut up?” The blonde haired woman furrowed her painted on eyebrows. “Tell me that one more time and I will go out in the parking lot and kick your ass.”
Brianna had found the toy she had been looking for and stood back up to look down at the older woman. With all the pride and spite she could muster she spat her words at the woman. “Shut up,” then walked away with a smile to deliver the girl her toy.
It had been almost two years and the relationship between Cynthia and Brianna was still at its sharp peak.
“I said I wanted a cheese burger with no pickles! This has pickles on it!” A costumer screamed at the poor girl who didn’t even make the woman’s sandwich.
“I’m so sorry about that ma’am. Here, let me get you another one, one without pickles,” she emphasized the word without so that the grill boys would hear exactly what the costumer wanted.
“No, I don’t want another burger! I have an hour till I have to go to a wedding, and I don’t have time for this. Let me speak to your manager!”
Oh boy, it was the ultimate card that any customer could play. The manager card. It may seem powerful, but in all honesty the whole “costumer is always right” is a load of bullshit. The costumer is never right, but if someone comes into the restaurant saying that they are the king of Spain, corporate wants you to reply with, “What would you like to order, your majesty?” It was utterly stupid that she had to put with this stress. Unfortunately, she would have to for another four years to help pay off a little bit of her college tuition.
Cynthia made her way to the front of the store. She asked the usual question, “What seems to be the problem, ma’am?” To which the angry customer always rambled on in their tyrant rage about how the person working the cash register was the one to blame for the burger being wrong.
‘I’m not even the one touching the burger,’ Brianna thought to herself as she made a milkshake for the next order.
“Look, I just want my money back for the burger. I don’t have time to put up with high school flunkies.”
Why does everybody always assume that people who work at McDonald’s are drop outs? This was a question Brianna found herself often asking. Most everyone she worked with was either going to college, had finished school, or was still finishing high school. No one there had dropped or flunked out. They were only there because they had nowhere else to go.
Which is exactly how Brianna ended up there. No other place would hire her, and McDonald’s was her last resort. The day our story takes place is the first of the month. When all the free loaders, druggies, elderly, and lazy asses get their monthly income from our esteemed American government. This was the week when the worst of the worst would come out. Customers who are only seen for one time and then disappear until the next month.
Brianna’s thoughts were cut off when she felt a sharp pain on her head. She turned to face Cynthia with a snarl and clenched fist. “You are such a screw up, you know that?”
The brown haired girl rubbed the back of her head through her black McDonald’s baseball cap. “What are you talking about?”
“Was it so hard to push ‘no pickles’ on the hamburger option?” Cynthia had her hands on her hips and her hip cocked out to the right side as usual.
“I did! Did you not look on the receipt where it clearly showed that I had put the hamburger to have no pickles?”
“Well that lady said that you didn’t.”
“Look, don’t yell at me. If you want to yell at someone then yell at the back line. They are the ones who made the burger.”
Cynthia didn’t say anything. She just lowered her fist and walked away from the girl whose headache was even worse now from that hit.
People had begun to flood the restaurant by 11:30 am. The droves of back woods families piled into the drive-thru bumper to bumper. There wasn’t a moments rest. Now, McDonald’s has a bad habit of not scheduling their workers properly. So poor Brianna, was the only person on the front line. Her job was to take the orders, cash out the order, get the food, and then give the food to the people. Simple enough, right?
No.
Brianna was run ragged going back and forth, her headache only worsened from the screams of the angry costumers who had to wait more than sixty seconds, and feet ached from standing for over eight hours. There was a saying McDonald’s employees had, “I want a job to where I go in and I don’t feel like I want to commit suicide or homicide.” And that’s exactly what Brianna thought.
Her hands shook, her eyes twitched, and her body was aching to the point of breaking. The girl had worked here for years and her breaking point had long since passed. The customers continued to scream at her, Cynthia demanded her to move faster, and co-workers asked her to do their job. She couldn’t take it anymore. She had to end it.
She couldn’t take more of the screaming. She couldn’t take any more of the stress. She couldn’t take working here any longer. Most of all she couldn’t take any more of Cynthia. But how was she going to do it? Just then, a light bulb went off in her head. She knew exactly how she would make this end.
The lunch rush finally ended around two o’ clock in the afternoon and the restaurant was packed full of overweight customers gorging themselves on their Big Macs. Having a moment for herself, Brianna went back to check the schedule. She wanted to see what time Cynthia was going to leave this evening. She found the name and ran her finger across until it was under Wednesday, March 28th. “16:00” is what the schedule said. Four in the evening for regular time. Brianna had to get this job done before the witch had a chance to leave.
She paced the floor of the crew room devising a plan for how she would get away with this. She could make it look like an accident. She could lure the woman into the freezer and push the heavy crates full of frozen hamburger patties on top of her. Another option was to do things the old fashion way and stab her with one of the box cutters while no one was looking. Then again that could leave her finger prints on the knife and the cops could trace it back to her. Unless, she wore the meat handling plastic gloves and then discarded them after the deed was done. She could also take a garbage bag and ask Cynthia to help her take trash out to the dumpster. Then gag her with the plastic bag and dump her body along with the rest of the trash where she belonged.
First thing she had to worry about was the cameras. There were cameras everywhere in the place. The only places where there wasn’t a camera was in the stock room, freezer and bathroom. Those would be the ideal places to perform her acts. How could she get away without the cops pinning it on her though?
She scratched her ball cap and looked toward the mirror in the crew room. She could always plant fake evidence. A wicked smile spread across her cheeks. Plant some evidence that framed someone else for the murder rather than herself. She ran over to the lockers and found Regina’s locker. This two faced back stabbing bitch would be easy to frame. Regina was the crew trainer that thought she was a manager and tried to boss other people into doing their job the “right way”. She even tried to boss around managers and tell them how to do their jobs. She belittled the crew members and cursed openly even when customers were in ear shot. Brianna opened the locker and rummaged through the woman’s purse until she found a hair brush and pulled the black hairs from the brush and stuffed them in her pockets.
When Brianna left the crew room, she went to look for Regina. She found the tall and skinny woman opening one of the stock boxes full of drinking cups with the box cutter hanging on the side of the door. Brianna looked to the sky and just laughed, how perfect could this be? The girl went to the kitchen area and put on one glove then grabbed another one and put them on her hands. After Regina went back up to the front, Brianna grabbed the box cutter with her gloved hand and put it in her deep front pockets.
Now all that was left was to do was grab some cleaning supplies and tell Cynthia that Herbert asked her and Brianna to clean the woman’s restroom. She grabbed some paper towels and some spray cleaner and walked toward the front.
“Cynthia!” Brianna called toward the woman on the cash registers.
“What?” The old woman called back, though it was more like a squawk of a parrot.
“Herbert said that you and I need to clean the woman’s restroom before the school rush comes in.”
The blonde groaned, but took the broom that had been left by one of the janitors near the wall behind the counter. She didn’t argue back, mainly because Herbert would often ask Cynthia to go clean just to get her off the front counter.
The two females rounded the corner and went back to the bathroom. Cynthia went in first and Brianna put out the “Do not enter. Cleaning in process” sign in front of the door. The bleach poisoned bathroom with a hint of citrus coursed into Brianna’s nose. It was a smell she had grown accustomed to but never enjoyed it. The white tiles with white sinks and white walls were too pure. Though, the purity was going to be gone soon. She went to start to clean the sinks as Cynthia went to the bigger of the two stalls to sweep out the toilet paper covered floors.
This was it. This was the moment. Brianna took a deep breath and slowly sat the cleaning supplies down as to not make any sudden movements or noises. She went over and locked the bathroom door for assurance that no one would interrupt her in this delicate process. Her heart beat echoed in her chest and her lips went dry. Her hands shook and her knees buckled under her weight. She wanted to kill this bitch so badly. She wanted her out of her life for good. But could she be the one to end a life? She couldn’t call this an innocent life, given the fact the woman is a promiscuous spiteful being. Though, she was still a life in general.
If she was going to get caught that would be years in prison and her life flushed down the toilet along with whatever Cynthia just flushed down in the stall. Her breaths matched the pace of her heart beat, quick and uneven. Her thoughts raced in her head about all the outcomes that could possibly happen with this. She could get busted and put on trial, then in prison for committing this crime. Or no one would find out and she would live with the guilt of knowing she ended some one’s life too soon than some higher power’s plan. The last option, which was not likely to happen, was she would get away scott-free and live out the rest of her life knowing that she wouldn’t have to deal with Cynthia any more.
Not only would she be taking a life, but she would be framing another innocent woman for the murder as well. Regina would be framed for this murder seeing her finger prints would be the last ones on the box cutter and her hair would be over the crime scene. So, Brianna would also be responsible for ruining another life as well as ending one.
She heard Cynthia open the door. It was now or never. If Cynthia opened the door before Brianna attacked her, the woman would see the knife in her hands and scream and grab attention to the bathroom. She had to do it now. Right now! It had to be done! There was no going back! The black stall door opened a crack before Brianna rushed toward it and pushed the woman on the ground with her gloved hand covering her mouth to muffle any screams.
Her breaths were more uneven as her hand put the knife toward the woman’s throat. She could see fear in Cynthia’s silver eyes. The gleam of the tears brimmed the bottom edges of her eyes as her pleas went no further than a muffled sound against Brianna’s gloved hand. The girl took a deep breath and slide the knife across the woman’s throat swiftly and effectively.
The crimson red stained the pristine white floors. Brianna quickly scrambled back against the side wall and gave out a silent scream. She just did it. She actually killed somebody! “Oh God! What have I done!?” She whispered to herself in panic, seeing the lifeless corpse quickly bleed out. Guilt washed over her seeing those pale silver eyes stare at the ceiling and her mouth open in a silent eternal scream. Brianna’s hands, now bloody, shook like a Chihuahua on caffeine. She had to compose herself before she could think of leaving this bathroom. She took quick short breaths to try and calm herself down. She forced herself to look away from the body that had stained the white floor red. She put the knife back in her pocket, with the blade neatly tucked away inside the plastic holder, then pulled Regina’s hair out and sprinkled some pieces in the blood and on the floor under the sink.
She stood back up to wash her hands and rinse all the blood down the drain. She cleaned up her face which had also received a blood splatter her and there. The next step was to place the knife inside of Regina’s locker. She left the body inside the big stall for some unsuspecting soul to find later. She grabbed the cleaning supplies and made her way to the back of the store where the cleaning supplies were stored. She made sure no one was looking when she placed the knife in Regina’s locker. She fixed her hair and put it back up in the baseball cap and went back out to do her job at McHell.
