by David Allen Bright
As you drive your car you notice a man on a horse keeping pace on the left. You can’t see his uniform, but he seems like a cop. He has paperwork. He motions you over. Oh no—a ticket will be bad. This will ruin your probation. This will make you late for work. This will cost you money and time.
He looks at the paperwork and mentions personal things about you. How does he know? It is a McDonald’s “opportunity sheet” and you have been chosen to sample the job.
The place is disorganized. You try to make sandwiches, to wait on people, all with no training—just jump right in.
It is not going well. You go out to the shed for sandwich wrappers and come back with a load of boards instead. You can do better than this.
The horseman shows up outside. He motions to you. Oh no—not again. You do not want to talk to him, but you know he will not go away. He is like Mr. Death.
You drop what you are doing and take your time walking up to him. You look way up to him as he waits on his powerful, shining horse. He gives you another mission, this one more challenging. You are not sure you can do it. You know you could master McDonald’s after a while, but this is tough.
He gives you a deep, knowing look and you realize that this horseman is not in charge of your destiny. You are, and you alone.
You climb onto the horse and ride off with him. You feel scared. You feel secure, confident.
(Originally published in The Cafe Irreal)