oooooh sonic.

Tonight, my Carrie-sister reminded me of the main reason I hated my high school job as a Sonic carhop: my fellow employees. For some reason, Sonic has a reputation of hiring some of the dumbest people on the planet. Carrie and I worked with some real gems back in the day, let me tell you.
There was Gary, who as a manager, couldn't count back change. He also never washed his hair. Ever. Then there was his dad, Marty, a 50-something ex-con who only had 4 teeth. He offered to set up a double date with Carrie and I. Gary was the other choice. No thanks.
There was Sam, who came to work so stoned that he put his hand into the fryer instead of fries, and then wondered why he got fired. And his girlfriend, Tia, who's best quality was that she was a question-talker.
There was Dannyjones, who looked like a pterodactyl (not at all an overexaggeration) and had the IQ of a rock. Not to mention an extraordinarily large backside that he was both proud and self-conscious of. And there was M-ichael B-arnes, who ate sonic so much, that he gained several pounds and couldn't put his arms to his sides. He still thought he was hot stuff, strutting around and flirting with all the girls.
And last, but certainly not least, Javier, whose nose hair and mustache were connected, and who was suspiciously friendly to all the carhops.
I am not sad that I don't work there anymore.