Panda Express is Paradise

You're a lusty 20 year old who just dropped out of college and spend your days gaming in your parents basement. Dim lights, mountain dew, sweatpants. You've developed anger problems, a mix of the rage at losing in the video game while feeling like all your peers are pulling ahead of you in life-- with their fancy majors, investment clubs, and girlfriends. You used to want to break into IB and make your way to the bright lights of NYC to live the life of a stockbroker with a fun, chest-beating boss that takes you to brunch with infinite mimosas. Like Wolf of Wall Street. But you'd need a college degree to do that. And now look at you. Pathetic.

Your mom always looked out for you and understood you, though. You could say a lot about how the world mistreated you, but never your mom. One night she brings you dinner, chicken mcnuggets and rice, and while she's standing at the door she says the words that will change your life.

"I found you a job, honey."

"What?"

"I found you a job. When I was walking downtown I saw an ad for a job at Panda Express and took a picture. Here, look:"

You read the sign and your eyes widen. Could that be right? $80,000 comp, and that's BASE? That used to be IB An1 starting salary for the seniors you saw at your ex-college's investment club. And those guys were successful! They got A's and wore sweatervests and sperrys, while you flunked out of earth sciences class.

And if your eyes did not deceive you, you could be making more than them in just a couple years, after they burn out and quit their IB jobs while you climb the corporate ladder at Panda Express. They are like monkeys, swinging from vine to vine in high finance until a vine breaks, when they burn out and collapse to the ground below. You, on the other hand will be like a Panda climbing up the bamboo at Panda Express, reaching higher and higher heights, until you perhaps lateral to P.F. Chang's.

Your mom looks angelic silhouetted against the doorway of your basement lair, and smile as you read the top text of the ad once again. 

Panda Express: Inspiring Better Lives

"Thank you, thank you mom!" You stand up, throw down your Xbox controller and flip on the lights, standing tall. You suddenly become aware of your stained sweatpants and unshaven face. You're going to need to change that before your interview.

Panda Express management is thrilled to receive your phone call inquiring about the job. There's a labor shortage, and they'd do anything for anyone with a hint of competence. They practically give you the job over the phone, but schedule an interview anyways for good form. You show up wearing a suit. The panda express is beautiful, it smells good, and your interviewer, Melinda, sits you down at a shiny table in the back corner. You kill the interview. There were no technicals, even though you prepared for them-- you knew how to make dumplings and boil broccoli, and you knew it cold. You knew the ethics and mission statement straight from Panda's website, and you recited it in your answer to the "Why Panda?" lay-up behavioral. 

~One year later~

You finish up the day at 9pm by wiping down the countertop and arranging some fortune cookies by the cash register. You're wearing the sleek red-and-black uniform of a Panda Express manager, with your name tag displaying your rank: General Manager. You had cut through the ranks like a knife through butter. Even your first day on the job, no one questioned your authority. When coworkers looked at you, they thought, this guy, this guys knows what he's doing. 

Management had given you a raise and you were now clearing $85K base in a LCOL area. You moved out of your parent's basement to a nice modern apartment building near the store. You smiled and gazed around the store, at the clean wood paneling and warm flourescent lights. But just as you were about to close down shop, a haggard man stumbles into the restaurant. He's wearing a white button-down, half un-tucked, yet cinched against his waist with a tasteless faux-leather belt. He's wearing beaten down penny loafers. He's pale, with dark, sunken eyes that look like they've seen nothing but a computer screen for days. He mumbles something, but you can't understand him. Then you squint and realize that you know him from somewhere but can't quite place him. Oh wait, that's who it is!

"Mark? Is that you?:

"Uhh yeah, wait did you go to college with me?"

"Yeah, I remember you used to be VP of that investment club I tried to join!"

"Oh yeahhhh"

"What are you doing now?"

"Oh I'm an investment banking analyst at Goldman."

"Congrats! I'm a general manager here at Panda Express," you point at your name tag.

"Anyways, are you guys still open? I haven't eaten since this morning, I'm starving, I really just need something quick to take back to the office, I'll take the chicken lo mein please."

He looks at you desperately, a wild, hungry, yet infinitely tired look in his eyes. You glance at your watch. It's 9:02. Technically, Panda Express closed 2 minutes ago and you have every right to throw Mark out, hungry onto the streets. That's a lot of power. With great power comes great responsibility.

"For you, Mark, we're open. I'm a manager." You serve him a heaping portion of delicious chicken lo mein into the styrofoam to-go container. "And you can grab a soda for free, treat yourself!" Mark thanks you profusely, and you watch him as he hurries out of the store, back to his desk. You smile. Panda Express is paradise.