The burgerflipper attitude towards foreign policy and diplomacy

Respect the craft and value expertise, but reject the rigid structures, outdated hierarchies, and performative rituals that dominate the field.

I was a burgerflipper. For young suburban kids in the eighties, that first job gave you a new outlook on life. Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights spent at the deep fryer, the prep table, cleaning tables, serving customers, and of course, flipping burgers. Customers were either sad and dejected or arrogant and demanding; bosses were much the same, they’d either given up on life or thought the world revolved round the three-minute service promise. Every Saturday night, you clocked off with the smell of burgers and fries soaked into your hair and skin. You went out with friends and realized the money earned hardly covered eating where you worked, and knowing the kitchen, didn't want to eat there nohow.

The entire experience gave you a healthy disrespect for the adult world, a sturdy distrust of authority, and a certain understanding of why shit goes down. Yet, in those few minutes of calm between the last customer and cleaning the grease trays, there was a sense of camaraderie. It was t…