"A Bag On My Head"

In the classic novel A Confederacy of Dunces, Ignatius Reilly, the narcissistic protagonist, gets a job at a pants factory to support his family. Ignatius is incredibly astute and should be over-qualified for such blue-collar work. But after caving in to his mother's demands to stop making excuses for his complacent laziness, he takes the low-skill job. He does somewhat well until ego gets the best him. In order to upstage his beatnik ex-girlfriend, he dabbles with the whole social activism thing that was hip in the 1960's; and where better to make his mark than in Civil Rights-era New Orleans, where he worked. He attempts to galvanize his fellow poor workers into an enormous protest for improved wages and working conditions. He asks them to sing Spirituals in unison. The protest fails monstrously, Ignatius gets fired, and hilarity ensues.

My first job was at Taco Bell. I was 16 and needed money to help pay for car insurance. Like many fast-food franchises, the lowly environment at Taco Bell is the last resort lunch option for the sharply dressed, upper-middle-class folk who describe their work as "market research" to young ladies they're trying to pick up at wine galleries. When they're behind on their payment for the loan they took out for the 115" 9600*5400 resolution HDTV, they can't afford the usual Greek place or even Panera Bread. So at about 12:15 pm, after they've finished preening and re-popping their collars in the bathroom, these well-groomed socialites venture from their pristine, naturally lit office building into the dreary fast-food dungeon, only to return an hour later to their idyll where they promptly resume reading Fail Blog. Behind the counters where they place their orders lies the metallic cavern lit by flickering fluorescent lighting. Here, minimum-wage-working single mothers, non-English speakers, and perpetually stoned high-school dropouts assemble wads of growth hormone-addled cattle carcass onto artificially flavored rubber sheets resembling tortillas. A trickle of scalding grease from the monolithic fryer splashes these hapless grunts as they deliver the barely edible concoctions to the aforementioned higher-skilled/paid workers to consume while conversing about the "stresses" of "work." This stark contrast is chillingly similar to Fritz Lang's epic dystopian film Metropolis.

My first week at Taco Bell, a co-worker trained me on how to use the fryer and prepare nachos and cinnamon twists. Or at least, he was supposed to. Most of the time, he stood around and made inane conversation. He showed visible signs of frequent marijuana use. He was often unresponsive and would get yelled at by the manager. He had a quiet, deep voice similar to that of Snoop Dogg. He also asked me if I had listened to Snoop Dogg. I lied and said I did. He was Caucasian. One day, as he was tasked with showing me how to prepare cinnamon twists, he opened a clear plastic bag of twists and dumped them into a bin where they would placed into individual paper bags. He then proceeded to place the bag on top of his hat. He adjusted the bag as it sagged to and fro. As he walked around holding the bag, he said nonchalantly, "I got a bag on my head, yo."

One Christmas Day, my uncle Paul and cousin Billy were watching the fireplace that comes on public access channels during the holidays. My Uncle Paul makes random erudite observations on everyday things just to be funny. His deadpan humor is often underrated among the rest of the family. He and Billy came up with a postmodernist deconstructive analysis of the scene of the fireplace. On the right side, the firewood was level and the wood was vibrant; but towards the left of the fireplace, the wood was charred and drooping. The bulk of the wood was on the left side. Uncle Paul speculated, "The wood on the left is a representation of those disenfranchised by the 'fire' of the ruthless capitalist system; yet one can clearly see that they make up the majority of the wood, collapsing under the weight of the wealthy few, that being the level wood on the right." Billy added, "And the sturdier wood is on the right. That wood must represent the Republicans."

I wonder how we can deconstruct this workplace scene of a young man placing a bag on top of his head. Is it a helmet that he has chosen to wear as a result of the stress brought on by the endless demands of an unrestrained mega-corporation who sells the meat of factory-raised animals to impressionable children and makes rapacious profits? Or is it a bag of apathy, like what so many people his age demonstrate towards important societal issues nowadays. Notice the music of Snoop Dogg appeals to him. Why not a more cerebral, conscious celebrity in the rap genre, like Mos Def?

In case you're wondering, I just finished reading all three of James Finn Garner's Politically Correct Bedtime Stories books. My awareness has been raised tremendously. What a shame these books are out of print!