Every Christmas, I return from school for the month of December to work three weeks at Dunkin Donuts. So far, every time I've done this, I've worked on Christmas Eve. For the sake of those of you who have never done such a thing, I've put together some of my memories from this year's experience.

1. Everybody wants a gift card

Actually, everyone wants at least five gift cards. I used to think that the go-to gift for someone you don't know very well is a Bath and Bodyworks hand soap. Now I see the error of my ways - it's actually a Dunkin Donuts gift card.

2. That "we're out of almost everything" panic/relief.

Okay, so in about two and a half seconds we'll have sold our last donut, and the customers will be out for blood. Yet, on the bright side, we'll feel the relief of saying "I can't" the next time someone orders three dozen donuts. It's almost worth the pain.

3. We're allowed to wear ugly Christmas sweaters instead of our normal polo-shirts!

No one likes the polo shirts. They're white and attract mocha like no one's business. Dunkin Donuts only gives us this one day's respite from the uniform in order to bolster our nerves. We'll need the extra confidence one finds only in wearing a hideously festive Christmas sweater.

4. "Hello, I'm coming through the drive-thru to order one of every sandwich for my twenty-three cousins who are visiting from California."

Distant, high-pitched screaming from the sandwich station.

5. The rush never ends. You're stuck in a time loop. You will always be and have always been pouring coffee. You will forever smell like French vanilla. There is no end, nor was there a beginning.

Welcome to the Dunkin coffee trance. Judging by the line of people out the door, you won't be leaving it any time soon.

6. Being helped out of the coffee trance by the occasional friendly, patient, and altogether angelic customer.

The little old lady picking up donuts for her grandchildren smiles pleasantly at you and wishes you a merry Christmas. She wants to know whether you have to work tomorrow, on Christmas day. You get the sense she is prepared to defend your right to be at home with your family. As you talk, you emerge gradually from the coffee trance and blink around, startled to realize you exist. The little old woman seems to understand and nods knowingly.

7. FEW GIFT CARDS REMAIN. SUPPLIES ARE RUNNING LOW. THE PEOPLE ARE...DESPERATE.

The other stores are also running out of gift cards. Their managers flock to your store, but you must practically beat them away with a mop in order to protect your precious stash. As you wield the mop at a sobbing store manager from the next town over, a customer to your right says, "I'd like fifteen ten dollar gift cards, a thirty dollar gift card, and two fifteen dollar gift cards." You and the cashier exchange a dead-eyed glance, acknowledging that your struggle is about to become meaningless.

8. If you manage to keep smiling in spite of it all, you win the eternal love of your customers.

It's easy to forget that, on this last day of preparation before Christmas, your customers are just as exhausted as you are, having spent hours fighting each other for the last of the good gifts in stores. They've been on their feet all day, regretting every moment they spent procrastinating. All you have to do is show them kindness, offer a smile, and they will love you forever. You have the opportunity to be the sole light in their dark, empty-walletted worlds.

9. When you leave, the remaining employees watch you with a mixture of envy and affection.

They wish they, like you, were headed home to their families, to their Christmas trees. In that they are envious of you. Yet, they are your comrades in the face of this terrifying onslaught, and they are happy for you too. They cannot themselves leave, not yet, so they choose to live vicariously through you.