Cheeburger Cheeburger and I

If the restaurant title “Cheeburger Cheeburger” doesn’t exactly give off a sophisticated and refined vibe, then trust me, working there definitely proved this to be true. For my first job, I was employed as a hostess at this not-so-classy establishment. But that’s not to imply that a greasy burger joint can’t be delicious. It just depends on how you define “delicious.”

The summer of my sixteenth birthday, a new building was quickly constructed near my neighborhood. A large, colorful banner enlightened my town on the nature of the edifice. It read in bold letters, “CHEEBURGER CHEEBURGER. COMING SOON. NOW HIRING” and featured a picture of a ludicrously tall cheeseburger with every topping imaginable. One week later, I had landed a job at this Cheeburger Cheeburger, and “training” began.

During training, I learned how to take customers’ orders and translate them into a computer. I was taught to wash my hands often, to wear my hair tied back, and other health measures that I soon realized were not that crucial at Cheeburger Cheeburger. My first day at my new job was the opening day of the restaurant, and I don’t think I have experienced anything less organized since.

When I arrived, I was told that there were too many servers (which was the job I had trained for), and that another hostess was needed. I was asked to do the job, and stepped blindly into my new task. Without knowing table numbers, or server sections, or the order of where to place incoming customers, I stumbled through my first day. I was consoled by the fact, however, that all other employees were making nearly as many mistakes as I was.

Slowly I kinesthetically learned how to be a hostess, and as time went on, I grew quite fond of the disordered, yet lovable, Cheeburger Cheeburger. Not only could I handle impatient, hungry customers waiting for their table, but, on slow days, I perfected various milkshake flavor combinations. (However, the strawberry-mint-Reese’s Pieces combo ended in disaster. It’s not recommended.) Another benefit of working there was that the schedule was flexible; I could basically choose when I wanted to work, and claim I just couldn’t work at any other time. That selfish system worked for me.

I had seated Cheeburger Cheeburger consumers for more than a year when one day, I received shocking news. A fellow employee and friend of mine went to work after school to find that the restaurant was closed. It was soon discovered that we had gone out of business, much to everyone’s surprise. Without a single warning of any kind, the owners (good old Charles and his meddling wife Kathy) were forced to shut down Cheeburger Cheeburger, for reasons that I never truly discovered. Confusing as it was, at least I received my last paycheck in the mail. However, I was suddenly out of a job, and never got the opportunity to step into the Southlake, Texas Cheeburger Cheeburger again.

Maybe I should have seen the warning signs. We went though many managers, none of which stayed for very long. I didn’t think this was a problem though, and, besides, I liked to know that I had been around longer than my manager had been. And although I never made much money there, I miss that little burger joint where I spent so much of my time.