Eric Anderson

John Roberts 

First day in the fast food joint, and they made him the manager.  You know what

that means; you don’t have to wear the stupid hat.  You don’t have to shovel freedom fries.  You get the fancy shirt.  You don’t have to unclog the toilets.  You peruse

the applications of lesser people.  You hire pretty, young.    You make a little more. 

You make agendas.  You say Yes! to Corporate on the phone.  You dream franchises.  Sometimes

            there’s an angry customer.  You offer a free meal and they come back

angrier.  They ask questions you can’t answer.  They don’t speak slogan.  They take the food.  You can see them getting fatter, bite by bite, calorie by calorie.  This is how planets form.  They try to trap you in their orbit.  You deserve a break today.  You’re Lovin’ It, whatever It is.  You go home tired.  The angry customers come back, pitchforks, torches.  Have it their way.  You call Security.  Outside,

            there’s blood in the gutters, bodies at the base of the wall.  Now Hiring. 

What did you expect?  Billions

            and billions served.