And how my dad proved that Jays fans and Yankees fans will simply never get along.

I worked at Wendy’s for eight-and-a-half years. I started working there in July 2006 when I was 14 (Canadian labor laws be damned) and didn’t leave until August 2014, when I was getting prepared to begin grad school that September. Throughout high school and undergrad, I worked somewhere in the ballpark of 30-35 hours per week — less during exam periods, more during the summer — and routinely...

Continue Reading How Wendy’s (almost) made me miss Derek Jeter’s 3,000th hit