Where the F*** is my Cheese?!
In my last post I related that shortly after graduating from college, I briefly worked at the Amway headquarters. At first I’d been given dull but easy work, but after three weeks I was reassigned.
My new job was to load packages onto trucks. The packages ranged from small padded envelopes to large cardboard boxes containing furniture, exercise equipment, and the like. The packages would roll down the line, and I would have to pack them into the back of a truck as fast as they appeared. It was very much like playing Tetris, but in 3D. Unfortunately, I have no sense for spatial relations, and I would often realize after loading a hundred or so boxes that the edifice I had constructed was (at best) an inefficient use of space or (at worse) dangerously unstable. The line would back up as I tried desperately to arrange the packages to make them fit properly. Eventually, they would have to shut down the line and someone from another line would stomp over, muttering under his breath, and re-pack my truck while I stood there looking on like an imbecile. I went to the office to ask for a transfer to a different area, but they said there had been no complaints about my performance. I told them that there would be if I kept working there, but they said there were no other positions open, so I would just have to go back and tough it out. I went home at lunch and didn’t come back. I didn’t know what else to do.
These brushes with real-world employment made me realize just how unprepared I was for adult responsibilities. I had been coasting by for four (and a half) years on my parents’ money, and it was becoming clear that I was not going to open the classifieds one day to find an ad for an entry level philosopher (and even if such a job existed, there were probably hundreds of more qualified applicants than I). I could no longer pretend that I was being held back by a bunch of small-minded teachers; I was now free to succeed or fail on my terms, and I was failing decisively.
This blow to my pride also prompted me to reassess my attitude of superiority toward those around me. I realized, in short, that most of the people I looked down on were, in fact, smarter and more successful than I in all the ways that really mattered. Sure, I could kick all their asses on any standardized test, but no one was handing out checks for exceptional LSAT scores. I’m reminded of a Dilbert cartoon in which one character, who is a member of MENSA, is asked, “If you’re so smart, why are you working here?” The MENSA member replies, “Intelligence has less practical application than you’d think.” This is very true. If I was half as smart as I thought I was, I’d have realized this truth much earlier.
As I was nearing an unpleasant realization about my personality and outlook on life, I had an experience that, although seemingly trivial, brought matters into stark focus. There was a fast food restaurant near our apartment that I would occasionally frequent. One day I walked up to the window and ordered a chili dog with cheese. The cheese was $0.20 more, but I figured it was worth it. I took my chili dog home and unwrapped the foil, only to find that there was no cheese on the dog. I grumbled to myself something about idiot fast food workers and ate the chili dog.
A few days later I visited the restaurant again, making a point of saying that they forgot the cheese last time. I walked home with my chili dog and unwrapped it, only to see a bun holding a hot dog covered with chili – and no cheese. This time I was mad. I had specifically told them that I wanted cheese, and that they had forgotten it the last time. What the hell?
The next time I visited the restaurant, I said, “I want a chili dog with cheese. The last two times I asked for cheese, and I was charged for cheese, but you guys forgot the cheese. Could you please remember the cheese this time?” The guy nodded and apologized, and gave me my chili dog. As I was walking away, I decided to check the chili dog before I got all the way home. I unwrapped the foil and could hardly believe what I saw: still no cheese. How dumb could these people possibly be?
I stomped back to the window. “Remember how I just asked you for cheese, and I told you that the last two times you forgot the cheese, and asked you to please remember the cheese this time? Well, there’s STILL NO CHEESE ON MY CHILI DOG. What the hell do I have to do to get you to put cheese on a chili dog?”
The employee apologized, took the chili dog from me, and pulled back the bun slightly. He said, “We put the cheese under the hot dog so it melts better.” Sure enough, there was a thin, gooey layer of orange underneath the dog.
I was absolutely mortified. I had been practically screaming at this guy for his stupidity when it turns out that I was the idiot who hadn’t bothered to look under his hot dog. What made the situation worse was the fact that he was so damned polite and apologetic about it, as if it was his fault that I was such a fucking asshole. He kept saying he was sorry and asking if there was anything else he could do. I shook my head, mumbled an apology, and walked away.
I thought about Romans 12:20, which says, “If your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink. In doing this, you will heap burning coals on his head.” I don’t know if this fast food employee was familiar with this verse or if he was just the Zen master of chili dogs, but his attitude certainly made an impression on me. By refusing to argue with me, he had left me defenseless against my own pettiness, anger and stupidity. That chili dog burned like hot coals in my stomach. At that moment I realized something about myself: I was kind of an asshole.