The Tissue That Taught Me a Lesson
The Tissue That Taught Me a Lesson The fluorescent lights of Wendy's Glorietta 4 buzzed overhead, casting a sterile glow on the bustling lunchtime crowd. I was a cashier, a cog in the fast-paced machinery of the restaurant, but I was determined to make a positive impression. It was a typical morning shift, the air thick with the aroma of sizzling burgers and the rhythmic clinking of trays. Then, they walked in – a group of men in sharp suits, their faces etched with the weariness of international businessmen. One, with a friendly smile and a hint of Asian features, caught my eye. I was eager to impress. I took their order with a practiced efficiency, suggesting a Frosty to accompany their Bacon Mushroom Melt burgers and iced teas. They seemed appreciative, their smiles widening as they exchanged pleasantries. It was a small victory, a testament to my commitment to providing exceptional service. They paid, collected their food, and settled at a nearby table, their co