Following a long and wearying process of seemingly endless phone calls and interviews, I had finally been given a position at Panera Bread. Despite the fact that it had taken an unbelievable amount of convincing, I was overjoyed. This would be my first job; I was so proud and pleased with myself. I was sanguine of how much better everything would get from that point on, at work and in my daily life. How unfortunate my optimism would be falsely placed and that this would not come to pass. The training was rigorous, spanning three weeks during busy hours. I had been trained by a very condescending man a few years my senior, and he seemed to put all the “extra” chores that he was not particularly fond of doing onto my shoulders. I was taught to wipe the dirty tables and pick up trash left behind. Another task of mine was to brew coffee every hour and stock the garnishes and flavorings for it. Cleanliness was my responsibility; The floors had to be vacuumed often as well as mopped. In addition, during most shifts, I was the dishwasher. The responsibilities seemed vast and endless, but even so, I was…show more content… Venomous remarks consistently were made regarding my work and speed as my co-workers observed me during their very frequent downtime, of which I never had. Turning a blind eye when I was in need was the norm; If someone had to assist me in any way, I would surely witness their disdain for the rest of the evening. Every time I slipped, my fellow workers made me feel as if I was slipping further. Officially, my job title was “dining room attendant.” But soon, that began to feel like a blatant lie. The job was obviously mislabeled, as my responsibilities went far beyond those of my designation. Soon I understood that I wasn’t the stores' “dining room attendant” at all. I was the Panera Bread “kitchen
