Cracker Barrel Narrative

It was high noon, the sun was shining, there was a breeze that made you feel like falling to the ground in a pile of dandelions. Bernard Walton and Eugene Meltsner decided too take a road trip that day. They had been best of friends since they were both little, and thought that they would have a good time on this road trip. But all of that changed on that very day...

On July 8, 2015 I walk into Krogers like I would any other day but this day I was an employee. Lost for words around the unfamiliar faces that I would now see five days a week had me a little nervous. I walk up to someone and ask them “where is Ally?” and when I say her name I see her shoot her head full of blonde poofy hair from over the registers as she grabs a pop from the cooler by U-scan and I hear the cooler doors slam. The super cute boy who is tall, tan and muscular with short light brown hair with chubby cheeks and a bright white smile that I seen at orientation walks up and says he is being trained by Ally too and I feel slight butterflies in my stomach. As we walk back into the back dock we run into Cody with dark brown hair and tan skin and the cute boy goes off with him to be trained and I was disappointed. I knew Ally before I got hired on at Krogers through a mutual friend so conversation came easy and work so far wasn’t that bad. Now that I have seen every part of Krogers that I haven’t seen before it’s time to learn the hard stuff. We go out on carts and I am begging to go in cause little do I know that it is a 30 minute shift and there is no 5 minutes and go in. Then Ally goes on break and I’m all alone to learn how to beg by myself, which isn’t hard at all but when you’re thrown out there it’s scary.

Tires squealed on black ice and the engine backfired as she swerved around a narrow edge of the cliff. Jennifer Lesniak is traveling from Wisconsin to Oregon in a six ton truck through treacherous mountains and endless plains. It was three days of almost non-stop driving, only being able to sleep when she gave the wheel to her husband. Just when she was about to give up she thought the extreme weather in Wisconsin and about why she was moving to Oregon in the first place. She carried on willed by the warmer weather that awaited her on the west coast. The snow fell like ash from a volcano, building up on the road to the point where they had to get out of their truck and shovel the road clear. “Clearing the roads were extremely difficult” She said. “We were so close to the edge of this mountain standing on slippery ice trying to shovel the snow out of the road with little to no safety guard between us and the drop.”

Anybody who knows me knows that I love bagels. My dad used to own a bagel store for 12 years in Baldwin, New York. For the last four years, I have worked with my dad at his store during summers and weekends. My bagel career began in September 2012, a few days after Hurricane Sandy. Baldwin is a coastal town and was ravaged by the storm. Many homes and businesses were destroyed, but we were fortunate that the store lost power for only a few days and there was no water damage. Schools were closed for weeks because most of Long Island had no power. Two of my father’s full time employees lost their homes and moved away. My brothers and I had to help my father run the store. The next few weeks were extremely busy. The lines were out the door since people lost their

When we first arrived the owner had greeted us with a warm welcome, and thanked us for helping with his diner. The diner was packed so we started our shifts soon after we were shown around. The owner was pleased with our work on the first day, and he looked forward to having us work in the diner. We did not officially start until Monday, which was in three days.

Before the summer of 2015, I made the decision to financially support my family as best as I could. My sophomore year of high school was coming to an end and the Orange County Fair was just around the corner. I applied to Juicys LLC, one of the most popular food stands at the fair, without any experience hoping I would get hired. A few days after applying, I received a phone call explaining the time and place for the orientation, I was ecstatic. The orientation room was filled with talk and laughter of high school and college students. I saw familiar faces and my nerves were eased at the sight that I was not going to be alone. My first day at Juicys LLC was a complete rush. It began with the entrance to the fair, overwhelming and crowded. When

and I looked up. The park shimmered with snow so fresh, so dazzling white, it burned my eyes. …. Then far away, across the stillness, a voice calling us home, the voice of a man who dragged his right leg.” (Hosseni,2003).

Goggles hanging around her neck. hair, out of the braid, but pulled to the side.

The essay begins with the snow on the ground as “pure white” (Medina 72). In spite of the move to New York appearing to be a clean slate for him and his family, hopes began to diminish once they actually arrived. It was expressed by Medina that, “the snow on

Summer of 2014 was off to a good start. Exams were over, the sun was out, and all I wanted to do was nothing. My wonderful bubble of apathy, however, was quickly burst by an astonishing ultimatum brought forth by my parents. Get a job, or we’ll put you to work here. At first, I argued, but as with every other time my hopes of laziness were quickly dashed. Immediately, Wagshal’s came to mind. A small gourmet butcher shop down the street, Wagshal’s had become a familiar place that we had been going to for years. I knew most of the staff there, and figured they might have a job for me. However, I learned that they were opening up a brand new produce stand this summer and were looking for teenagers to sell the produce. I eagerly applied, figuring

As the day progresses on and Medina and his family continue their journey over the Brooklyn Bridge, the snow presents the newly discovered mood; now twisted into what is described as “Cotton swabs dripped in Mercury.” (Medina, 73). This mood was also backed up with Medina’s overall perspective of New York

Crash. One, two, no, three plates hit the floor. I could for all intents and purposes feel my spirit drain from my body as that sound rung throughout the restaurant. I paused for a moment to recollect my thoughts, looking up to see a collection of dirty plates, bowls, and pans stacked nearly a foot high on the shelf and beginning to collect around my feet as there was nowhere else to put them. With a stack of plates so tall, the grease had allowed a plate to slip and take several others with it to crash onto the stone floor. Ah yes, this was dinner hour, the busiest hour of the night, on Friday, the busiest day of the week in general, and it was my first week on the job. Straightaway came the manager, Rachel, as well as a few of my coworkers. She looked to see glass scattered

My “That Was A Whopper” moment was a 6 month lie I told when I was 10. In 5th grade I was no stranger to the detention room and was constantly bringing home detention slips for my parents to sign. One fateful November day, however, I arrived at school and realized I had forgotten to get my slip signed. As my brain raced through the possible solutions I concluded that coming clean wasn’t an option and hurriedly scribbled my father’s signature. My hands shook as I walked up to my teacher, but to my relief she didn’t give the slip a second glance before discarding it. On the way home that day a dastardly plan formed in my head. The next week I hid my slip from my parents and repeated my forgery. For six months I kept up my treachery, signing slip

Katelyn and I then said our goodbyes to Savannah, and we headed back down river towards my house. We had stuck close to the river’s banks edging along the very cusp of the forest until we had come up to a road bridge that spanned the river. Not wanting to be seen by anyone that might have driven down the road, we elected to walk underneath the bridge hugging close along its substructure before hopping up onto a small, cement walkway that worked its way under the belly of the

Then, something happened. It was near the end of my 11-hour shift on a Sunday. It was quite busy as it was a hot summer night. The line was almost to the outside of the door while there was only two of us working. A man and his son walked in. They stood there and stared at the menu for a while.