"Hey, you, come to me, I want to tell you something!"

• whenever Rick called me over with that phrase, I already knew what would follow – "there’s always something to do".

My first day at "Baja", a Mexican "restaurant" in Bethany on Garfield Pkwy, was a mini-hell for me: late June, crowds of customers lining up for burritos, nachos, and burgers, other students like me rushing around the dining room, energetically wiping tables and glancing at the salsa bar – wondering if it needed a "refill" – manager Miguel checking his Facebook profile, and, well, me, standing by the coffee machine like a statue, wondering if anyone would explain my function in this crazy mechanism or not.

Seeing that I was in a daze, Yulia from Ukraine offered to help: "Okay, I'll show you everything now. Of course, you won't remember everything at once, but I don't have much time, so try not to slow down: this is..." She told me that coffee is kept in the drawer under the coffee machine, that coffee-pots must always be full, that fruit for drinks is kept here, plastic cups, forks, and knives – there, that ice for the soda machine is carried in huge buckets – "take two at once, Rick doesn't like it when we carry one – you need to save time", that the trash must always be taken out, tables clean, salsa bar checked, toilets washed, that they work in shifts – 3 people in the morning, 3 in the evening, that... My brain started to glitch. "You'll get used to it! The main thing is, don't stand still," Yulia finished, "and if you don't know something, ask."

It was her second summer in the States, her second summer at "Baja". It seemed that this petite girl was a robot programmed to work 14 hours a day and hint to others how insignificant they were. She called herself a "manager", wore short shorts, moved around the room wiggling her backside, smiled with all 32 teeth, loudly pronouncing "all riiight" in the American manner while standing at the register, laughed at Rick's worst jokes, and, by doing so, won attention, adoration, and a higher salary.

I was her complete opposite – I was slowly getting into the workflow, constantly confusing things, and categorically avoided working at the register, fearing that I would stall the queue with a single "tap" of my finger on the wrong button on the menu display.

After a week of work, I had somehow learned the entire menu of the "restaurant" and started sorting food onto trays at the "expo". "I'm actually managing," I thought, "uno-burrito – here, spinach salad, kid mac and cheese – there, nachos, tres-burrito, and cheesy quesadilla – for the fat, smiling American." It seemed to me that I was even starting to like this place. But if it seems so to you, it doesn't mean your boss holds the same opinion. Rick...

Rick is the founder and owner of "Baja". The guys and manager Miguel called him "sukitos" among themselves, the girls said that he brought every student who worked for him to tears, and Jason, my American acquaintance, once joked that you just need to change the first "r" in his name to "d" to reveal the true essence of this person. I listened and blinked – is it really true?

In mid-July, the number of visitors to "Baja" began to skyrocket. I physically couldn't handle the flow of food that needed to be sorted onto trays, and I often asked the girls for help. But when there are 3 people on shift, and one of those three is you, it turns out there is no one to ask for help. I was ready to cry, but I kept fighting. On one of those busy days, Rick approached me with the words: "I see you are absolutely LOST, get out of here," – he pointed to a rag lying in a bucket, implying that all I was capable of was washing tables – get to it, go ahead, as they say, with a song!

I don't like to judge people: in the end, we are all not perfect, but, to tell the truth, this is a special case. Never before working at "Baja" had I met anyone as two-faced and petty as Rick. He could smile at you, ask how your weekend went, treat you to leftover nachos, and a minute later start discussing with the manager what an idiot and "slow" person you are.

We had a 50% discount on food, and often, in a hurry, we would punch in a ticket for ourselves with an order, leaving the payment for the evening so as not to waste time digging through our bags looking for the right amount. Once I started to leave, forgetting that the omelet I swallowed during my morning 15-minute break remained unpaid – attention, 4 dollars! Rick stopped me at the door, turned me around, led me to the register, and, pointing at my receipt, began to lecture me, saying what ingratitude, what a disgrace, it's unimaginable! He didn't want to hear that it could have simply slipped my mind. A "Baja" employee is a robot: they do the work quickly, without unnecessary words, remember everything, never get tired, love their boss, and show it in every way. No "oh, I forgot, I'll pay now".

A week later, I learned from Miguel that the daily revenue of this place in the summer can reach $4000. $4 vs $4000?

"Keep on moving, there’s always something to do!" – once at 8 a.m., Rick yelled his favorite phrase at us again, noticing that after scrubbing everything before opening, we had gathered to chat by the coffee machine. I took a pile of clean trays and went to wash them in the kitchen. No work – invent it yourself! Don't just be a robot, be a creative robot.

One day in August, he sent me home at the very beginning of the shift, arguing that all I had done since I arrived was drink a glass of soda and exchange a couple of sentences with Yusta from Ukraine. This was a lie. I could easily prove it if someone gave me access to the hidden camera footage. Rick knew that his argument was weak on both legs, that the real reason was that it was raining outside, the visitors could be counted on one's fingers => 2 people could easily handle the entire volume of work, losing $8.25 an hour (my salary) – is unreasonable => the best way out of the situation – is to let me know that my humble services are not needed today. Explaining everything as it is – too boring. Missing another opportunity to humiliate and lecture – how could he! I burst into tears, grabbed my bag, and ran out into the street.

You can talk for an incredibly long time about how it was. You can come to new conclusions, guess, "what if..." You can look for sympathy. You can do a lot of things, the question is, does it matter now, at this very moment? No. Definitely not.

Having worked at "Baja" for more than a month and a half, I learned one important thing – how important it is not to lose the human in yourself. Never, nowhere, and under no circumstances.