With all the talk about burger market share and burger competition, speedier burger service and lower burger prices, it's easy to forget that human beings cook, flip, salt, cover, wrap and bag the burgers. A veteran of the burger service wars provides a first-person account of what it's like behind the smiles.

I went to work in a hamburger chain right after high school. It was my first job -- and I was so scarred by the experience that I was sure it was going to be my last.

When the manager hired me, I was so happy. It was a minimum wage job, but you were expected to treat it like a career. They told me to come back the following week with navy pants and black dress shoes.

My first day on the job I was given a musky shirt and polyester cap and, to top it all off, my own name tag. After I filled out a mountain of forms, I watched an hour-long video about how to make fries. After that, I was told to go home and get some rest for the next day. I didn't know how much I'd need it.

The worst part of the job was working the grill during rush hour. Training for this high pressure position consisted of watching another Emmy-award-worthy Sales-Video -- this time animated burgers sounding like the Supremes as they instructed the novice in how to salt the burger, how many times to flip it, and how to makes those oh-so-famous square corners.

The reality was a little different -- sweating over the grill while, from the counter and the drive-though window people scream, "Double Cheese!" "No make that single!" "Where's the kids' cheeseburgers?" "Clean your grill and get me a potato."

For $4.50 an hour you work like the laborers on a construction crew. Trays, pots, pans and everything else has to be clean within an hour of closing, but how can you finish when someone from the front keeps dumping dirty dishes?

Just when you think it can't get worse, you're told to clean the rest room. The things the customers do! It's as though they'd never had a bathroom at home. I would describe this to you in more details but 1) I've got a weak stomach and 2) I might get censored.

When I was small I thought working at a fast food joint would be cool. You get that "designer " uniform that automatically attracts girls; you make new friends; and you get lots of money especially the tips from the customers.

Talk about a reality check. A uniform infused with the smell of raw chopped cow and the musk of hard labor does not exactly inspire romantic feelings. As for meeting people, well that's real enough: some of my co-workers turned to be good friends (though there were others I wished would fall into the deep fryer). Minimum wage added up to disappointment, and the tips from customers were a figment of my imagination.

If only I could say the same for the customers . Consumerus painindabuttocks is the scientific name for the species. To the customers you're the lowest thing in the world . They treat you like a cockroach they found in the dinner. But talk back and you're asking for trouble. The customer will make a scene to get what it wants -- which is the manager. The manager, in turn, will scold you in front of the customers, for that's the only way to prevent another scene.

I know one thing. I'll never work in a fast food restaurant again as long as I live.