Matthew Dix

And so I go out into the dining room at the end of my break just to see him, because he's already working.

And I see him.

There's nothing to this guy.

He's not that good looking.

He's not an athlete.

He's got the body of a bass player in a failing high school rock band.

He is nothing.

But I watch, and a couple minutes later, I realize I'm wrong, because he's funny, effortlessly funny.

And he's endearing to everyone.

He makes the older customers who are waiting for Big Macs actually happy to be waiting for their Big Mac, and the managers love him.

And he's good at the bin.

Like, he is really good at calling bin.

I hate him so much.

And because he's doing my job, I have to run for drive-thru today, which is the second hardest job in the restaurant.

80% of the orders go through the window, so 80% of the food will pass through my hands.

But that means I need to work with the bin guy the whole time to coordinate and negotiate and make sure everything runs, which means I have to work with Benji.

And so for the first hour, we don't talk to each other unless it's about work.

And we clearly hate each other.

We're not hiding it in any way whatsoever.

But unless it has to do with work, we don't say a word.