[DeathsHand]

I work the register during the lunch rush of a local sandwich shop in a part of town dominated by yuppies. The actual work is usually not hard.
But I'm not a social boy...

Every day I deal with a line to the door made up of people who have 15 minutes to order food, get their food, and get back to their important jobs.

Every single day after my super-long 4 to 6-hour shift, I leave work with my mind clouded over, my stomach achey and churney, my heart racing, and my legs feeling as though they are about to collapse.

But aside from my own personal mental shortcomings, I'd say when my boss tries to make me play the role of cook and cook up a batch of roux...

Nothing like standing over a hot pot of boiling flour and oil... It smells terrible... It's hot... It's very easy to ruin... And I didn't sign on to be a cook.