Michael Vail ‘24

Urban-Inspired Journalist

Another day, another dollar. Or another 8 am shift, another $14.25 per hour, I suppose. Haha.

Our beloved protagonist walks into a Boston Dunkin’ Donuts (not sponsored), in earshot of the kitchen where a hypothetical shriek could be heard, if one were to occur. This is not to say definitively that a shriek, indeed, occurred. But I do not mean to deny the possibility, either. By this point, I’ve implied it quite intently. The truth is, a shriek did occur, and our protagonist heard it, as he was within earshot.

“Why, we’ve forgotten to restock the cups again! Cups of every size are gone!” cried the manager, whose most fundamental responsibility was to restock cups of every size. “Quick, lad, you must retrieve more!”

This was a common demand for our protagonist, who had not even put on his uniform yet. A bright-eyed student, he was the most nimble and energetic of the workforce, who had not yet become jaded by decades of customer service. And so he was often tasked with sprinting to the neighboring Dunkin’ Donuts (not sponsored), which was in close proximity, because that’s just how cities work. On a weekly basis, he would change into a cheap pair of running shoes and dash through the streets of Boston. That’s how he became known as the Dunkin’ Runner.

As you might expect, the Dunkin’ Runner was scarcely liked by the employees he often “borrowed” from. But they had a duty to their fellow workers and begrudgingly gave him fresh packs of cups each time. Without fail, the Runner always departed with an apologetic smile and a tip as large as minimum wage could allow before absconding into the dawn.

On the contrary, the Runner was deeply admired by the locals. As he passed by apartment complexes on the way back, he was frequently greeted by applause. Children would assemble at the balconies every week to see him run down the street. “Quick, mommy, wake up!” they would hail. “The Dunkin’ Runner travels today.” If they were lucky, he would toss packets of sugar to them, much to the dismay of their parents. Yet some of the parents could not help but smile when the children weren’t looking.

“Three cheers for our savior! Without hope, we would surely be, if not for His selfless efforts! In the youngest hours of the morning He hears our prayers and responds so vigilantly, so effortlessly, as if it were His craft in a previous life. May He be blessed with a long, prosperous life, though if fortune did not favor Him, one would anticipate that He would bend it to his will. Bring a thousand doughnuts for our glorious hero, posthaste,” the Runner imagined his manager saying as he approached the door with his treasure in hand.

“Hiya, how may I help you?” said the cashier as he entered.

Another day, another dollar.

Why?

Image courtesy of Dunkin Donuts