Who: Paul, Thea and OPEN What: Paul's at work, nearing the end of his shift, doing his usual. Where: Five Guys, Huntington Beach When: Open to interpretation Rating: Slight criticism at society Status: Open, with hopes and dreams for the future. Please don't crush them.
Today, Paul was enjoying the irony in the American public's obsession with germs. Without, a bright day. Swift sunlight reflected off the street through the big windowpanes, blending with the flourescent ceiling lights to brighten everyone's food and mood. It left the advertised meals and the service menu dim by comparison, requiring a certain shift manager to re-adjust the backlight brightness on the illuminated boards over the cashiers. The entire place was a celebration of California summer and Commercialism. Serotonin levels must be through the roof.
'That was a cynical thought', he blinked, looked away from Jared's hand tapping an order into the console. The concept of submitting orders digitally, replacing the "Two bacon cheeseburgers, tomato lettuce onion jalapeno bbq toppings, no fries" announcement into a microphone which transmitted it back to the kitchen, served several purposes. Firstly it complimented the modern sense of privacy people seemed to value more since Facebook and Google began their all-encompassing Information hunt. Secondly, since the advent of smartphones young employees seemed to handle touchscreens better than their vocal cords. But for Paul, it was mainly because of the subconscious phenomena where an employee would announce a costumer's order in a bored monotone voice, forgetting that he is actually talking about some one's meal. They didn't do it intentionally, it was the product of repetition. But Paul noticed that people were losing their appetite when their meals were made to sound boring in the restaurant speakers.
He didn't expect things like "One kosher hot dog! Wait, make that two. Just thinking about it makes me hungry!" everytime some one ordered. So they adopted the touch-screen consoles. Kids with their parents enjoyed when the cashier turned it toward them so they could tap their choice of toppings.
'Many people use their shoulders, feet or elbows to push open the door to the restaurant,' he observed, slanting his glance towards the entrance. 'The logical process dictates that the doorknob is touched by many unclean hands. Yet the same people place their hands on the counter when they think what to order. Mathematically, people use one hand to push or pull the door, but place two hands on the counter while contemplating what to eat. In the hygiene game of double or nothing... Everybody chooses double.'