How drive-thru bagging at Chick-Fil-A is equivalent to digging five-foot holes every day in the desert.

If you've seen the movie "Holes," you might remember how it started (and if you HAVEN'T seen the movie "Holes," you won't really understand this post): a bunch of boys are out in the desert digging holes, and one of them spots a rattlesnake. He sees the deadly creature as an opportunity--an escape--and inches towards it. He takes off his shoe and puts his foot close enough to the snake, willingly letting it strike his flesh. In causing himself severe pain, he got what he wanted: freedom from the work camp which the movie revolves around.
The desperation that that boy felt to get away at all costs, is the exact same desperation I feel every time I'm in drive-thru bagging at Chick-Fil-A.
I know I know... "Bagging? What's the big deal about bagging?"
Well let me tell you.
It is a huge deal.
You don't even know.

See, most people cannot even comprehend how seriously Chick-Fil-A takes things. Everything. It's not fast food, it's a corporation. And since our CFA location in particular is actually ranked #1 in the country or something like that, the pressure is infinitely higher. Today we had some people from CFA corporate from like, Arizona or somewhere, come in just to watch us. Watch us. Now there is a situation in which the stress level is comparable to hiding under your bed while murderers are in the house trying to hunt you down (it's stressful because everyone knows being under your bed is basically the worst hiding spot you could pick). It was mostly stressful for me just because all the stress my managers were radiating soaked into my skin as well. But anyway, back to bagging.

Even regular bagging seemed demanding, but it is nothing compared to drive-thru. In drive-thru, everything is 45093871239849239034201094835949209485782340 faster and begs for perfection in all areas. Meaning, all food combinations must be in the appropriate bags (two entrees and two fries can fit in an 8-pound bag, but if one entree is boxed in a clamshell then that's too much, and all cold items must be bagged separately from hot unless it's just one cold item then it's okay unless there are fries and then it's not, and all items must lay flat in the bag and there are a certain number of condiments that can go with a particular numbers of entrees and the list goes on...forever...), all products appear top quality, triple check for accuracy, clear communication with the kitchen crew, headset person and window person, and all orders are meant to be out to the guest one minute after they order it at the box. One. Minute.
Now, during down time when we aren't so busy isn't so bad. I'm talking about the three-hour-long lunch rush when the orders on the screen are literally never-ending and you have to meet all the above criteria for each and every order out of the hundreds that are coming through, that is a bit upsetting. And by "upsetting" I mean "Every second I just want to collapse to the ground in the fetal position and cry."

There are a few ways that drive-thru bagging can relate to the work camp in Holes. For example, Holes is set in a desert. And let me tell you, with the heat from the kitchen hitting you at the speed you're moving and the sweat you're losing... well, I have played basketball all my life. I was on the court running up and down with few breaks, exerting a great deal of energy for eight seasons plus summer camps. I have biked 200 miles in four days before. I have had an active life. But never in my life have I ever felt so dehydrated as I have whilst drive-thru bagging at CFA. Never. That whole cotton mouth syndrome thing? Yeah, that's definitely real. I firmly believe the only people who might understand my level of thirst and dryness of mouth are those boys on Holes.

And another thing... they get those nasty blisters and stuff, right? Well, in CFA drive-thru bagging, instead of blisters, you get paper cuts. Endless amounts of paper cuts. And burns. Let me tell you, I don't think I have ever felt true pain until I burned my hand on the fry shoot irons. My finger is still scarred. And those fries... when they are fresh out of the frier and the grease on them is still sizzling, they are deadly. However, my manager was comforting when she told me, "Don't worry, you'll reach a point where you have no feelings in your fingers anymore." Except just kidding, that's not comforting at all. And those paper cuts... sometimes I just look down and my hands are bleeding everywhere. Right now I can count about a dozen cuts on my hands and I don't even know when they happened, just that they are there and they hurt.

There is one positive aspect on how working at CFA is like being a work camp boy who has to dig a five-foot hole under the desert sun every day, though... and that is community. I mean, those boys who dig together every day, they gotta be pretty tight. Of course there is the occasional fist fight, but everyone has problems to work through, right? At the beginning some of them hate the others, but through blood, sweat, and tears they learn to love each other for who they are. I can't think of a better way to describe the Chick-Fil-A family. And everyone is a character. In Holes they've got names like Zigzag, Armpit, Caveman, Zero... if we tried, everyone at CFA could have a nickname like that, too.

And there you have it... how working in Chick-Fil-A's drive-thru bagging is just like living out a movie.