Ahhh summer… a time to travel, relax, spend time with friends and, if you’re a broke college student, a time to make as much money as humanly possible in a span of three months. As much as your wanderlust and craving of vitamin D persists, many of us spend these three months enduring a love/hate relationship with our summer jobs. For me, this means spending most nights and many weekends behind the counter of a concession stand frying pickles and wrapping cheeseburgers pondering the question, “Why am I here?”

Your Boss: Some days you wonder just how disorganized someone can be and still be a successful business owner or how you’re always the first one there and the last one to leave, but you appreciate him because he doesn’t fire you for being late and walking in with an iced coffee every early morning shift and doesn’t judge the conversations he overhears about last weekend’s shenanigans. Not to mention he listens to all your latest drama when you two are closing and none of your coworkers are there.

Your Bosses "Right Hand Man:" Most likely spotted wearing a cutoff t-shirt that exposes his tanned, chiseled arms or flashing his 10/10 smiles that make you swoon. He’s older, works the grill, and is always making jokes you laugh a little too long at. Let’s be honest, the only thing you hate about him is he’s in a long-term relationship that you are not on the receiving end of, and she’s a nice girl (sigh).

The Hours: It seems like every time you work your friends are drinking margs at the closest Mexican restaurant or spending days at the lake and texting you, “Where you at??!!”, meanwhile, you’re clocked in trying to pay for next semester's textbooks as pale as you were in December. Bright side: all you have to say is the word “Cramps” and your boss clocks you out himself and tells you he will see you tomorrow before you can go into any further explanation.

The Customers: They typically spit out their order before you can enter it into the cash register, expect it all to be ready within 30 seconds of them ordering, and HATE when you don’t have the flavor of Gatorade their child wants. But it’s okay because those same people’s 4 to 7 year olds are the customers that buy .50-cent popsicles and stick the remaining $10 in the tip jar (karma).

Your Coworkers: Most days we love each other, other days we want to slit each other’s throats because she put popcorn chicken in the fryer when I asked for french fries and now the hungry lady who's looking could already kill, literally wants to kill ME. One thing is for sure, though, when the season ends and we all go back to school tears will be shed and hugs will last longer. Two months into school you’ll be missing the dance parties while closing and working long hours with your favorite people because face it, we’re a family (Dysfunctional but a family nonetheless.)