Thank you for choosing Wendy's, how can I take your order?

I've done heard from some people that they hated their first job but I didn't, I kinda enjoyed mine. Sure, if I could, I'd say I'd never work for such a low wage again. But for a high-schooler working for some disposable income, it was a good job. I wish I could say that I got it on my own merit, but life is funny that way.

You're hired!

Anyways, after a while, this guy started coming either on Wednesdays or Thursdays at around 7:30 to 8:00 at night. Let me tell you about this guy, he was big. I mean big. He would always come with what looked like a fresh food stain. And to this day, I still remember what he would ALWAYS order.

A number three (triple combo), biggie sized, with fresh fries. Normally, on a triple burger, we would put the cheese on the bottom and the top, this guy wanted meat, cheese, meat, cheese, meat (he would return it if it wasn't). A freshly baked potato without chives, only cheese and sour cream (he would return the potato too if it was even 15 minutes old, he didn't mind waiting). A small bowl of chili without the onions. A five piece chicken nugget. Every once in a while, a small frosty. And to top it all off, his biggie drink....

was a Diet Coke.

Now, this was a 2,600+ calorie meal. And he was a regular, so he was given a name.

Anyways, Steve, as he shall be known for the sake of this article, would always sit in the back for about 45+ minutes reading comic books. These weren't your everyday monthly issue comic books, these were the novel versions that had a hard cover. And, he would hit on one of my teammates on a regular basis, by saying he was a scout and wanted to her to be a model.

To put this into perspective, my teammate, who I respected because she was working her way through ASU and was trying to make a better life for herself, once confided in me that she knew that she wasn't the prettiest girl around.

Now, I don't know if he really was a scout, but he must have made some good money because he would tell us that he lived in Tucson and traveled a lot. The car he drove was nice and I never saw him with the same greasy shirt.

I wish I knew what happened to Steve, so that this story would have a story line, but he dropped off the face of the earth and I got a different job. He was never heard of again.

So what can we learn off of Steve?

Never order a diet coke when you eat at a fast-food restaurant, you're not fooling anyone.