Bridgeville: A Short Story
Sweat drips down my forehead; I take my visor off to briefly brush away the hair curled up on my face as I was called to take a break, but I didn't want to stop, really. I was in the zone. I sat down and loosened up for the first time since rush hour. Once again, I adjusted my one-size-too-large hat. After my thirty minutes were up, I came back to my position. I wasn't supposed to be here, but here I was: handing out orders at the drive-thru for Bridgeville’s very own McDonald's. Sometimes, I would think about what would’ve happened if I were not rejected from all the summer programs I applied to. I would’ve been funded to interact with others who would share my interests instead of coming straight to terms with the ruggedly barren road
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Other times, I was hit on by creepy men or yelled at for the drive-thru line moving too slow to no fault of my own. Yet, despite all this, I was happy at the change of pace. I think it must have been being poor that has made me love philosophy because I can more easily see how all of our lives are so short that it becomes absurd to care about many material things. I suppose that my love for thinking about living and how to act merited me to become a Telluride Association Summer Program finalist among the hundreds that have applied and had made me want to attend the program so badly. Even so, not being accepted has grounded me and made my thoughts on life less unrealistic just by interacting with hundreds of people a day.
In fact, perhaps the most important in helping me adopt a more sensible view after disappointment were my co-workers, who may not have been the most educated people but are instead some of the wisest, even with their own humanly flaws. They were all different: conservative, liberal, black, white, brown, old, young, and disabled. They were the most diverse group that I was part of and was able to help and be helped by. In particular, their unique walks of life and perspectives glaringly pointed out how not even I was following my own philosophy. I was too caught up with thinking about the unique experiences that I would’ve had that I forgot what truly
Other times, I was hit on by creepy men or yelled at for the drive-thru line moving too slow to no fault of my own. Yet, despite all this, I was happy at the change of pace. I think it must have been being poor that has made me love philosophy because I can more easily see how all of our lives are so short that it becomes absurd to care about many material things. I suppose that my love for thinking about living and how to act merited me to become a Telluride Association Summer Program finalist among the hundreds that have applied and had made me want to attend the program so badly. Even so, not being accepted has grounded me and made my thoughts on life less unrealistic just by interacting with hundreds of people a day.
In fact, perhaps the most important in helping me adopt a more sensible view after disappointment were my co-workers, who may not have been the most educated people but are instead some of the wisest, even with their own humanly flaws. They were all different: conservative, liberal, black, white, brown, old, young, and disabled. They were the most diverse group that I was part of and was able to help and be helped by. In particular, their unique walks of life and perspectives glaringly pointed out how not even I was following my own philosophy. I was too caught up with thinking about the unique experiences that I would’ve had that I forgot what truly