Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
People look down on McDonald’s employees but fail to realize that if all these folks left McDonald’s and pursued “better careers” your ass wouldn’t be able to get a McDouble with an Oreo McFlurry at 3am.
You can’t demand a service while simultaneously degrading those who provide it for you.
maids, waitresses, janitors, garbage collectors, and construction workers.