Where I Work.

I work fast food. That's a loaded confession, chock full of different emotions ranging from sheepishness, knowing others my age are already far in their careers, to dignity, feeling like I'm earning what will later be an interesting backstory. More specifically, I'm a cashier at Crisp, an American falafel restaurant in the heart of Midtown right next to Bryant Park. Ah, Bryant Park, an accessory, if not centerpiece, to so many of my early New York stories. There are a couple reasons why I've grown to cherish this job. Among these reasons is neither the minimum wage nor the minimal hours, yet still I love working here.

First, don't let the fast food stigma fool you, this is a fairly classy establishment. Falafel, if you didn't know, is originally an Egyptian convention made mostly from chickpeas, mashed then fried into a crispy ball. Hence, the name Crisp. We serve it Israeli-style in pita with hummus and cubed salad, but our executive chef also co-created a menu of original variations including "the Africa," served with sweet potatoes and a spicy peanut sauce, to "the Parisian," with goat cheese and roasted red peppers. I eat this stuff every day.

Second, I eat this stuff every day. Meaning I don't spend money on lunch (which, in the city, gets very pricey), I get a good balance of the food groups ('cept no meat, all vegetarian), and I eat things I hadn't ever eaten before. After five months, I nowhere near sick of it.

Third, is how it's grown me in humility. Anyone in customer service knows that customers can be among the hardest people to deal with. The ways to exploit the upper hand of being a customer are innumerable. Cashiers are at the brunt of it all, and what's considered fast food in other areas to New Yorkers isn't all that fast, that much they make clear. Our impressive menu draws quite the crowd during the only shift they allot me: the dreaded "lunch rush" (did I mention we're in the city?). If only I'd written down all the odd transactions I've had, I'd have written my first play by now. So yeah, it's great for work as an actor too.

The other day we changed up our menu. We completely removed one section of our menu, the Hummus Salad Bowls, replacing them with a "Create Your Own Hummus Bowl" option. With new freedoms also came certain restrictions and price changes. There had been few customers who were, as one put it, "not convinced" this was better and spared no shame or propriety in lamenting the loss of their beloved salad bowls. But what can one do but lift the eyebrows and say sorry? My co-worker Ian (yes, it gets confusing) said he just didn't understand why people were so bummed out by the change, mentioning he thought they'd enjoy the newfound customizability. With a sympathetic sigh I decided to share with him what had been my observations during these demanding months in Manhattan regarding the people here.

New York City, simply put, is individualism on overdrive. That is, the American way is to get "what I want, when I want," and there are few, if any, places in the country where that is more readily applied than New York City (in another post I'll go into more detail my thoughts about this). It's that mantra that built the fast food industry itself, so all things considered the fact that one of our customers would be so disgruntled by even the pettiest of personal inconveniences is not surprising.

A lady last week walked in with an already irritated look, grabbed some babaganouch (eggplant-based dip, very tasty) off the take-out shelf and said she wanted this in her pita. I told her we didn't offer that as an option (and we offer a lot of options) but if she bought the take-out size we'd gladly scoop some into her pita. Well, I didn't really tell her all of that, because she cut me off before I could finish, something she continued to do throughout the conversation asking more absurd questions. How anyone can be so discontent when they're offered so many options (I mean, seriously, we offer a lot of options) can only be reasoned as "it's not what I want." Makes you reflect on the nature of the heart, doesn't it?
I've been learning a lot about patience, and the nature of it in relation to humility. Again, something I want to touch on more later, but was it not for these values I might be more shy to admit my day job. So yes, I'm a cashier. Actually, the head cashier. A responsibility I'm happy to take on for the opportunity it allows me to mature.