A place 'so much fun, it deserves its own planet'

Slumped atop a precariously-placed bar stool, I sit every Sunday afternoon, watching bumper cars circle a track. I hold the yellow controller with two buttons labeled ‘START’ and ‘STOP’; a ride so simple a sleep-deprived chimp could run it. Nevertheless, my manager comes around and praises me for picking up on my job so quickly. I remind him that I have been working at Planet X for seven months, but he looks confused so I tell him to never mind.

I stop every ride early, hoping to make someone mad, but nobody ever notices. Each time a new group of strangers load on to the six cars, I make my way to the middle of the track and give my well-honed speech. “Put your seat belt over your head and under your arms; push forward to go forward; pull back to go back; left goes right; right goes left; if you push them in different directions you can spin in circles; try not to bump the rails and if you drop anything on the track don’t get out and get it.” I’ve got it down to eleven seconds of talking, because I think that if you can’t follow the basic rules of common sense, you may deserve the electric shock that comes with prematurely exiting the car.
There are signs for Monster energy drink dangling above my head and the Star Trek Voyager video game next to me makes intergalactic noises. The aroma of sweat, feet and stale pizza choke me as I become increasingly angry that this is my job.
Sometimes normal people of my own age, usually forced along by some sort of group outing, come to the line for bumper cars. Often, however, I am too embarrassed to speak with them, assuming that they liken me to a carny. So, I just stare ahead at the big, blue wall opposite my stool and pretend that I have a less laughable job.

I joined the Planet X staff last summer in a last-ditch effort to earn some cash. I knew it would be easy and I was sure that they would accept me; after all I am clean and competent, two qualities that seem to be in short supply in that building. I never anticipated, however, what a life-altering choice I was making. Now I'm not trying to bash my coworkers, because in all honesty, many of them are fine people that I rarely have an ill word to say about, and I'm not attempting to share the plight of the teenage worker in a minimum wage world; because both of those are ridiculous. In reality, I am quite happy that I work where I do, although at times it is ridiculous and I get mad and just want to cuss my manager out.

I have learned so many lessons within the confines of those four walls. Not only have they pertained to how to push START and STOP on the bumper cars, but also many life lessons. For example: the evils of the drug culture, what a crack nail is, what happens when you drop out of Kirkwood, and why it is important to work hard during this stage of my life.