Callum sighed as he dipped the next batch of potatoes into the sizzling oil. When he said he needed a job, he meant a fun, easy one, not this tedious, boring task of making French fries. Callum needed money for a video game, wanted it so badly he rushed to apply for the first job he could find. He never considered the possibility of getting stuck in the sweltering kitchen of a McDonald’s restaurant.

“Boy, pay attention to your fries!” a booming voice erupted out of nowhere, abruptly ending Callum’s thought train. The fries were sizzling violently, hot oil spattering in all directions. With a gasp, Callum yanked it out of the vat, but it was too late. The wedges were burnt, hissing furiously as if accusing him.

Callum’s boss loomed over him. “Hey! Am I paying you to burn perfectly good fries?” he bellowed, spit flying like the oil. His name was Earl, and he was massive. Each arm must have been as thick as both of Callum’s, and he wore a butcher’s apron coated in grease. He had so much facial hair that he needed to shave every day, making his face constantly red with irritation. Most terrifying, he always carried a giant steak knife, making him look like a murderous ape dressed like a fry cook.

“I’m s-sorry, sir. It won’t happen again, I promise,” Callum stuttered.

“It better not, or you’re fired,” Earl growled. “Now get back to work. And pick up the pace. I’ve seen monkeys cook faster than you.” And with that, he stomped away.

Callum felt drained by the end of the mealtime rush. He still had clean-up to do, but his arms were sore. He could have sworn each batch got heavier. He plopped onto a nearby chair, not wanting to return to this horrible place ever again. He was furious at Earl as well as himself for getting into this mess. A cup lay sideways at his feet, bearing the slogan I’m lovin’ it, as if mocking him. Callum definitely wasn’t “lovin’ it.”  He knew at this rate, he would never get that game.

Suddenly, Callum noticed a wallet on a nearby table. All signs of fatigue instantly vanished, and he scrambled to picked it up. It was dull brown and appeared worn. A customer must have left it. His curiosity took over and he opened it, revealing a whopping $45. Callum sharply breathed in. This was his ticket out of this dump; combined with what he already earned, it was more than enough to get the game. Still, a part of him said to leave it alone, in case the owner came looking for it. But he couldn’t stay at this restaurant forever. Without telling Earl, Callum left, taking the wallet with him.

The game shop was conveniently located right across the street, as if waiting for Callum. He started that way, but hesitated. He should have been excited, but he couldn’t deny the pangs of guilt that kept nagging at him. What if the wallet’s owner was saving the money to buy something too? Callum peeked into the wallet once more. One of the pockets held a driver’s license showing a smiling girl named Paula. She didn’t look like she deserved to be stolen from. The license also had an address. He could easily find her and return the money. Callum was sweating now, his greed wrestling with his morality. Was it really worth one video game? He suddenly recalled a phrase his mother always said: “Honesty is the most valuable virtue anybody can have.”

With a new determination, he set off to find Paula. He couldn’t sink so low as to steal, not even for the best video game ever created. Even if it meant dealing with Earl a bit longer.