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Saved Stories from Old Job (LOOONG)
Hi. Been lurking for a while, replying here and there. First post of my own, and probably only for a while. I was fired recently for "being slow," though it was very clear that it was because of inexplicable drama targeted at me, and it was just easier to fire me than investigate the truth.
Anyway, not really going to get into that, but I thought I'd share some stories. Overall, the suckiness of the job had to do with being over-worked, unappreciated, the horrid environment, and some bad coworkers. However, we did sometimes get some really sucky (or just plain weird) customers.
(As a brief explanation, my job was to work "line" at a "restaurant" that was basically fancified fast food. Supposedly Caribbean, but it was like... the best way to describe it is as Mexican food but with all the spices replaced with heaping cups of sugar and the random addition of oranges or pineapple juice. Line makes all the orders, also takes to-go orders.)
---
My First and the Worst
A man walked in, waited impatiently in the cash register line (he could've come up to the counter and ordered), and then ordered a gallon of fruit tea. Our fruit tea is pretty popular (we blend it in-store), so we have jugs to put it in if someone wants a gallon to take home. However, it's not in demand enough for us to prepare ahead of time or even have a funnel for. We just carefully pour from pitcher to jug. All our locations are the same.
H, the shift-leader who also happens to be my friend at the anime convention I work for, asks Punk to do it, as he is avoiding actually making food. He begs not to do it because apparently he sucks at pouring strait. She tells him to just be careful and go slow.
So Punk is almost done (and doing a pretty good job) when SC comes back to H.
SC: I WANT MY MONEY BACK!
H: *blinkblink* What?
SC:I WANT A REFUND!
H: Why?
SC: He's pouring it everywhere!
H: But it will get filled. You'll get the gallon you paid for.
SC: But he's getting it everywhere! I don't want that in my car!
H: We'll clean it off.
SC: I WANT A REFUND!
H obliges and gives him a refund and tells Punk to pour it back in the pitchers.
SC: I WANT TO COMPLAIN TO THE OWNER!
H: We have comment cards right-.
SC: I WANT TO COMPLAIN TO THE OWNER! I WANT HIM FIRED! HE'S INCOMPITENT!
(Note: Punk is currently flipping SC off from a location where SC and sit-down customers could not see him. Employees and to-go and checkout customers could, but most of us were busy gawking at SC.)
H: Our owner is currently on vacation. I can assure that he does read the comment cards.
SC: I want to complain to a person!
H: You've already complained to me. I can give you my manager's number if you want, but the owner is on vacation.
SC: Call the owner! I want him fired!
H: He is on vacation. He is on a boat. You may be able to reach him if you really want to, and he can tell you that he is on vacation on his boat.
SC takes comment card but does not write on it. He just stands there glaring at Punk as Punk pours the the tea back in the pitchers. I and the Old Lady I am taking an order from make face at him behind his back.
Punk finishes and goes out back presumably to smoke. SC returns to H. He has probably realized that the wife will shoot him if he comes back without the tea because he was a moron.
SC: YOU POUR IT!
H: Excuse me?
SC: I want a gallon of fruit tea, and I want YOU to pour it!
H: If I poured it, I'd do it the same way Punk did. Also, only I and the waiters are trained how to use the register, and there is a line of people trying to pay for their food and the waiters are busy.
SC: You're the one in charge right?
H: Yes.
SC: I want a gallon of fruit tea and I want you to pour it!
H: Fine. That'll be $X.XX
H takes his money, calls a waiter over to cover for her and goes to the back. (Note, our jugs are on a shelf near the front, not in the back.) She returns to the front, sets it on the floor by the drain to pour it (we usually pour it on the counter if the customer is watching or else they gripe. Apparently, they all like to lick the jugs bottoms?), slams the lid on hard enough that it actually dents the jugs a little, and hands it to him without wiping it off.
H: Do not come back.
SC: This never would've happened at <other location, over an hour away>.
SC leaves.
Old Lady: When he goes down, can I throw the first punch?
H: Don't worry. I got that jug from the garbage.
---
I'm sorry the line workers are poorer than you
(Note: If you are not wearing the one official t-shirt allotted to you, you have to wear logo-less tie-die. At this point, I have a particularly loud and ugly tie die as it was all I could find without a logo at Goodwill, and I certainly wasn't paying good money for work clothes.)
Man in a business suit walks in. I take his order. Newbie insists on doing it, and there is nothing else to do, so I just wait there and he stays standing next to me as he waits. He has been warm and friendly to this point, and decides to make small talk.
SC: I like your shirt, where'd you get it?
Me: (cheerfully) Goodwill!
SC looks offended at this, and does not look at or speak to me the rest of the time he's there.
---
Controlling Wife
An obviously married couple walk in. Wife goads Hubs into line in front of her, again to order at the register despite the vast unbusiness of the counter.
H: Can I help you?
Hubs: Yeah, we'd like a bean and three-
Wife: WITH YAMS!
Hubs: (winces) With yams a-
Wife: NO COCONUT!
Hubs: (winces) and no coconut, and g-
WIFE: AND GREENS! AND RICE!
Hubs: (winces) and greens and rice...
This continues for the WHOLE ORDER. Her yelling is completely aimed at him and obviously because she thinks he's incompetent. It was obvious to us, however, that he would've gotten everything right if she'd just shut up for a second. She even yelled "VISA!" at him before he even had his wallet open.
---
Strung Out on Drugs
About 15 minutes until closing, a woman and a man walk in. They arrive together and walk together but they do not interact or say anything and order separately. I still don't know if he was actually with her, but boy, do I pity him if he does. (He was actually a fine customer and didn't act weird at all.)
SC (woman) takes about five minutes to read the menu. She never flips it, but appears to be having difficulty reading, so I figure she just hasn't finished with the first page yet. I wait patiently for her to pick something as I have nothing else to do, and if I leave they might never be waited on (bad coworkers that night).
SC: Do you have another menu?
Me: 0.o (Okay, I just KNOW I'm going to be yelled at for this, but I can think of no other response.) Uh... Well... There's the back...
H turns to me with a look that says, "WTF? Did you really just say that?"
But SC turns over the menu and is SHOCKED.
SC: Oh! Okay!
She takes even more time to decide. Changes her mind three times, and finally settles on a half chicken. It takes forever to get through white or dark meat, sauces, and sides, but it's finally all done. I go to take care of the order. H has been busy with other customers, so asks SC to repeat order for her.
H: So, what did you have?
SC: Uuuuuh...
H: ...
SC: I think it was...
H:...
SC picks up the menu.
H: I'll just go ask Napoleana.
SC: I ordered the bean and three.
Me: SHE DID NOT!!!
I couldn't help it. It just burst out. This woman was infuriatingly strung-out and should be eating junk food in a corner of where-ever she slept at night, not bothering us. Luckily, she was too-strung out for her to even consider taking offense. H, now keeping a careful eye on the woman, looks at my ticket then checks her out.
As I'm finishing up, a coworker finishes his ticket and puts it on the counter, coincidentally in front of her. (The sucky ones never sit down.) Because he's a pot head, he doesn't call it out. Just sits down and leaves to the back for no understandable reason. SC assumes the bag is hers (as people usually do, but they also ask to make sure), grabs it and takes off.
H: HEY! THAT'S NOT YOUR ORDER! HEY! HEY!
A waiter catches SC just outside the door and gets her back inside. Order is given to correct customer (the man who came in with her). He also leaves without her. I have now finished her order and hand it to her.
Me: Here you go, ma'am!
SC: What's this?
Me: ... Your food?
SC opens box and looks inside. "This is what I ordered?"
Me: Yes. (One of us is strung out on drugs and it's not me.)
SC is suspicious but decides to take my word for it. She goes to H.
H: Ma'am, you've already paid.
SC: Oh.
H: ...
SC: ...
H: ...
SC fumbles with purse.
H: Ma'am, you've already paid!
SC: Oh.
H:...
SC leaves.
--
I'm A Vegan. Rice Is an Animal. Cheese is a Vegetable.
SC: I'd like a taco salad. (That's not what we call them, but that's what they are. We're famous for them. They're exactly like every taco salad I've ever had. Whatever.)
Me: Sure. Chicken, rice, or beef?
SC: Oh, no meat.
Me: Okay, so rice?
SC: No, I don't want any meat.
Me: There are no animal products in the rice. I'm a vegetarian, and I eat it.
SC: Oh, well, I'm a vegan. Could you make it plain?
Me: Suuure... So no cheese or sour cream, either?
SC: Huh? No, I like those! Why wouldn't I want that?
Me: Sorry, today's been a weird day.
---
WTF?
I finish someone else's nacho order, bag it, and call it out. An unwashed and unhappy woman approaches. I assume the nachos (which had been abandoned in the microwave WITH ticket) took too long and that's why she's mad.
Me: Sorry it took so long.
SC: Better not be chips and cheese!
Me: *blinkblink* I'm sorry?
SC: It better have my food on there!
Me: It has both white chicken and rice, just like you ordered.
SC: I'm not paying $6 for chips and cheese!
Me: You can check the order if you like.
SC: $6 is a rip-off for chips and cheese!
I sigh, grab a plastic knife, and open the box. I push some things aside so that I can point out each and every ingredient.
Me: It has tortilla chips, topped with rice, a chopped half breast of chicken, an even layer of bean dip, a layer of melted cheese, sour cream on the side like you asked, jalapenos, tomatoes, no onions like you asked, and a four-ounce of BBQ sauce."
SC: I don't want chips and cheese for $6!
Me: Have a nice day, ma'am. (Only time I've ever had to do that, but really what more could I say?)
The woman then walks to H's register (apparently weird things only happen when I work with her). That's right. She was not surprised by the cost. She knew how much it cost. She still ordered it.
She didn't gripe in line or to H, but as she exited, I could still hear her going on about "chips and cheese."
---
Stupid Customer Jokes
At least once a day, everyday I worked, this would happen:
Good customer: What's the <lime green chicken salad> like?
Me: I'm a vegetarian, but I can give you a sample if you like. Or, if you need more help choosing, I can get another coworker to help you.
Unrelated customer: I'm a vegetarian, too! But, I still eat beef and chicken and pork! Man, those are delicious!
If you're going to mock my morals, please be original about it.
---
The Elephant
Note: I have nothing against fat people. I'm technically overweight, and have battled with it since I was a child, only recently approaching a shape I'm comfortable with. My mother is obese, and almost half of my friends have been overweight or obese. I mean, it's the South for crying out loud. However...
Man walks in 5 minutes 'til closing. He's ENORMOUS. I'm actually impressed by the fact that he walks easily. I've never seen someone that big walk without assistance, much less with ease. I don't hold his size against him though and treat him with the absurd happiness I treat everyone else.
SC orders two taco salads. Now one of these things fills up a whole standard-size styrofoam take-out box, so I assumed that he was ordering for more than one person until he asked for the exact same specifications (minus this, plus that) on both. Okay, now I know why you're that big, but surely this enough.
SC keeps looking at the menu. I ask if there's anything else and he nods, I wait. Again, because the salads are freaking HUGE, I'm assuming he's ordering for someone else.
SC: Yeah... the nachos...
Me: Do you have a question?
SC: *nod* How big are they?
Me: We fill the box.
SC: So they're big then?
Me: Oh, yes, I can't finish one!
SC looks utterly offended. This breaks my heart. (Really, I like to consider myself polite and helpful. Offending someone accidentally is a big deal.) What did I do wrong? That's the same thing I say to everyone. They always take it as helpful, a warning, or a friendly challenge. What did I say wrong?
While glaring at me, he goes on to give me the exact same specifications for the nachos that he gave for the salads. What? That's it? You're angry because I'm a size 12 dress and you're a hulking mass of fat determined to crush your organs with your own weight?
If you know it's wrong, don't order the nachos!
------
COWORKERS!
I wouldn't normally talk about coworkers, but these stories are extra special:
---
Punk Makes His Exit
Punk is an hour late. H calls him in. Punk claims he didn't know he was scheduled. H says he needs to write these things down. Punk says well he has things planned. H says he should have let the manager know, and he has to come in because we're understaffed.
Punk comes in and starts griping because he "got a job at" (note: got a call-back, was not scheduled, had not signed papers, was certainly not actually employed) the location within walking distance of his house, and he does not want to work at this hellhole anymore.
H is pregnant now and has to pee every ten minutes. As soon as she goes to do so, Punk goes in the back. Waitress comes up from back, asking for H. I tell her H is in the bathroom. Waitress waits angrily, but this waitress is always mad about something. When H comes back, Waitress demands to know why H told Punk he could leave when we're understaffed. H said she did no such thing. Waitress says, "Well, he walked right out the back a few minutes ago." H sends Coworker to look for Punk's scooter. Sure enough, Punk and his scooter are gone.
H calls Manager. Manager is currently AT Punk's preferred location. Punk is unemployable at all locations.
Waitress 2 laughs hysterically. Saying, "That's exactly what <employee fired before my arrival> did! If he'd said anything, we'd've told him!"
---
Horrible Person
Note: One of my high school friends and I got very close after I went to college. We became so close in fact, that we call each other sisters. She is also 100% USDA-approved Grade-A Lesbian. I've always supported gay rights, but since that was revealed, every time the subject comes up, I think about her and what I want for her, which just so happens to be the world on a platter.
A waiter I used to think of as very cool and shall now on be called @#$% overheard me joking with H that if she had a boy her ultra-girliness would probably make him gay. (No, I'm not that ignorant, but I've never met a gay person offended by light-hearted jokes. If anyone here is, I apologize.) He then goes on a rant about how no son of his would be gay. (He is currently engaged to the only good waitress we had.) I'm not going to go into specifics, but the gist was that he wanted his son (explative)ing girls left-and-right, but if son (graphic image) under his roof, his son would be disowned if not hospitalized.
At this point, I grab an empty onion canister and go to the back like I'm going to get a replacement. I stay in the walk in until I'm calm enough to go back out.
C, a 16 year old waiter who is openly gay, and such a good kid that I'm really glad he's quitting, and was a semi-friend who was very angry when I was fired as he was one of the few that recognized how much slack I picked up there, asked me if something was wrong. I decided not to tell him because it was probably best if he didn't know he had to work with such a horrible person. (He was in back washing dishes the whole time.)
When I return to the front, @#$% has returned to his waiterly duties, and H says she's glad I left. Apparently, someone told him beating up gays was a hate crime, and this set him off. According to him, he beat up gays all the time in high school, and it should be perfectly legal to go around beating up whoever you want just because you don't like them, even though they have done nothing to you.
Next time I went to the back, he was talking to C about it, saying stuff about how he has no problem with gays, he just doesn't want his fictional son to do things he's uncomfortable with in his house. C obviously didn't believe him, but C is as non-confrontational as I am, so he just kept nodding his head hoping @#$% would finish and leave.
It should be noted that the whole rant took place at the front, behind the counter, where ALL the customers could see and hear him.
When I got home, I spent an hour crying to my best friend over it.
Anyway, not really going to get into that, but I thought I'd share some stories. Overall, the suckiness of the job had to do with being over-worked, unappreciated, the horrid environment, and some bad coworkers. However, we did sometimes get some really sucky (or just plain weird) customers.
(As a brief explanation, my job was to work "line" at a "restaurant" that was basically fancified fast food. Supposedly Caribbean, but it was like... the best way to describe it is as Mexican food but with all the spices replaced with heaping cups of sugar and the random addition of oranges or pineapple juice. Line makes all the orders, also takes to-go orders.)
---
My First and the Worst
A man walked in, waited impatiently in the cash register line (he could've come up to the counter and ordered), and then ordered a gallon of fruit tea. Our fruit tea is pretty popular (we blend it in-store), so we have jugs to put it in if someone wants a gallon to take home. However, it's not in demand enough for us to prepare ahead of time or even have a funnel for. We just carefully pour from pitcher to jug. All our locations are the same.
H, the shift-leader who also happens to be my friend at the anime convention I work for, asks Punk to do it, as he is avoiding actually making food. He begs not to do it because apparently he sucks at pouring strait. She tells him to just be careful and go slow.
So Punk is almost done (and doing a pretty good job) when SC comes back to H.
SC: I WANT MY MONEY BACK!
H: *blinkblink* What?
SC:I WANT A REFUND!
H: Why?
SC: He's pouring it everywhere!
H: But it will get filled. You'll get the gallon you paid for.
SC: But he's getting it everywhere! I don't want that in my car!
H: We'll clean it off.
SC: I WANT A REFUND!
H obliges and gives him a refund and tells Punk to pour it back in the pitchers.
SC: I WANT TO COMPLAIN TO THE OWNER!
H: We have comment cards right-.
SC: I WANT TO COMPLAIN TO THE OWNER! I WANT HIM FIRED! HE'S INCOMPITENT!
(Note: Punk is currently flipping SC off from a location where SC and sit-down customers could not see him. Employees and to-go and checkout customers could, but most of us were busy gawking at SC.)
H: Our owner is currently on vacation. I can assure that he does read the comment cards.
SC: I want to complain to a person!
H: You've already complained to me. I can give you my manager's number if you want, but the owner is on vacation.
SC: Call the owner! I want him fired!
H: He is on vacation. He is on a boat. You may be able to reach him if you really want to, and he can tell you that he is on vacation on his boat.
SC takes comment card but does not write on it. He just stands there glaring at Punk as Punk pours the the tea back in the pitchers. I and the Old Lady I am taking an order from make face at him behind his back.
Punk finishes and goes out back presumably to smoke. SC returns to H. He has probably realized that the wife will shoot him if he comes back without the tea because he was a moron.
SC: YOU POUR IT!
H: Excuse me?
SC: I want a gallon of fruit tea, and I want YOU to pour it!
H: If I poured it, I'd do it the same way Punk did. Also, only I and the waiters are trained how to use the register, and there is a line of people trying to pay for their food and the waiters are busy.
SC: You're the one in charge right?
H: Yes.
SC: I want a gallon of fruit tea and I want you to pour it!
H: Fine. That'll be $X.XX
H takes his money, calls a waiter over to cover for her and goes to the back. (Note, our jugs are on a shelf near the front, not in the back.) She returns to the front, sets it on the floor by the drain to pour it (we usually pour it on the counter if the customer is watching or else they gripe. Apparently, they all like to lick the jugs bottoms?), slams the lid on hard enough that it actually dents the jugs a little, and hands it to him without wiping it off.
H: Do not come back.
SC: This never would've happened at <other location, over an hour away>.
SC leaves.
Old Lady: When he goes down, can I throw the first punch?
H: Don't worry. I got that jug from the garbage.
---
I'm sorry the line workers are poorer than you
(Note: If you are not wearing the one official t-shirt allotted to you, you have to wear logo-less tie-die. At this point, I have a particularly loud and ugly tie die as it was all I could find without a logo at Goodwill, and I certainly wasn't paying good money for work clothes.)
Man in a business suit walks in. I take his order. Newbie insists on doing it, and there is nothing else to do, so I just wait there and he stays standing next to me as he waits. He has been warm and friendly to this point, and decides to make small talk.
SC: I like your shirt, where'd you get it?
Me: (cheerfully) Goodwill!
SC looks offended at this, and does not look at or speak to me the rest of the time he's there.
---
Controlling Wife
An obviously married couple walk in. Wife goads Hubs into line in front of her, again to order at the register despite the vast unbusiness of the counter.
H: Can I help you?
Hubs: Yeah, we'd like a bean and three-
Wife: WITH YAMS!
Hubs: (winces) With yams a-
Wife: NO COCONUT!
Hubs: (winces) and no coconut, and g-
WIFE: AND GREENS! AND RICE!
Hubs: (winces) and greens and rice...
This continues for the WHOLE ORDER. Her yelling is completely aimed at him and obviously because she thinks he's incompetent. It was obvious to us, however, that he would've gotten everything right if she'd just shut up for a second. She even yelled "VISA!" at him before he even had his wallet open.
---
Strung Out on Drugs
About 15 minutes until closing, a woman and a man walk in. They arrive together and walk together but they do not interact or say anything and order separately. I still don't know if he was actually with her, but boy, do I pity him if he does. (He was actually a fine customer and didn't act weird at all.)
SC (woman) takes about five minutes to read the menu. She never flips it, but appears to be having difficulty reading, so I figure she just hasn't finished with the first page yet. I wait patiently for her to pick something as I have nothing else to do, and if I leave they might never be waited on (bad coworkers that night).
SC: Do you have another menu?
Me: 0.o (Okay, I just KNOW I'm going to be yelled at for this, but I can think of no other response.) Uh... Well... There's the back...
H turns to me with a look that says, "WTF? Did you really just say that?"
But SC turns over the menu and is SHOCKED.
SC: Oh! Okay!
She takes even more time to decide. Changes her mind three times, and finally settles on a half chicken. It takes forever to get through white or dark meat, sauces, and sides, but it's finally all done. I go to take care of the order. H has been busy with other customers, so asks SC to repeat order for her.
H: So, what did you have?
SC: Uuuuuh...
H: ...
SC: I think it was...
H:...
SC picks up the menu.
H: I'll just go ask Napoleana.
SC: I ordered the bean and three.
Me: SHE DID NOT!!!
I couldn't help it. It just burst out. This woman was infuriatingly strung-out and should be eating junk food in a corner of where-ever she slept at night, not bothering us. Luckily, she was too-strung out for her to even consider taking offense. H, now keeping a careful eye on the woman, looks at my ticket then checks her out.
As I'm finishing up, a coworker finishes his ticket and puts it on the counter, coincidentally in front of her. (The sucky ones never sit down.) Because he's a pot head, he doesn't call it out. Just sits down and leaves to the back for no understandable reason. SC assumes the bag is hers (as people usually do, but they also ask to make sure), grabs it and takes off.
H: HEY! THAT'S NOT YOUR ORDER! HEY! HEY!
A waiter catches SC just outside the door and gets her back inside. Order is given to correct customer (the man who came in with her). He also leaves without her. I have now finished her order and hand it to her.
Me: Here you go, ma'am!
SC: What's this?
Me: ... Your food?
SC opens box and looks inside. "This is what I ordered?"
Me: Yes. (One of us is strung out on drugs and it's not me.)
SC is suspicious but decides to take my word for it. She goes to H.
H: Ma'am, you've already paid.
SC: Oh.
H: ...
SC: ...
H: ...
SC fumbles with purse.
H: Ma'am, you've already paid!
SC: Oh.
H:...
SC leaves.
--
I'm A Vegan. Rice Is an Animal. Cheese is a Vegetable.
SC: I'd like a taco salad. (That's not what we call them, but that's what they are. We're famous for them. They're exactly like every taco salad I've ever had. Whatever.)
Me: Sure. Chicken, rice, or beef?
SC: Oh, no meat.
Me: Okay, so rice?
SC: No, I don't want any meat.
Me: There are no animal products in the rice. I'm a vegetarian, and I eat it.
SC: Oh, well, I'm a vegan. Could you make it plain?
Me: Suuure... So no cheese or sour cream, either?
SC: Huh? No, I like those! Why wouldn't I want that?
Me: Sorry, today's been a weird day.
---
WTF?
I finish someone else's nacho order, bag it, and call it out. An unwashed and unhappy woman approaches. I assume the nachos (which had been abandoned in the microwave WITH ticket) took too long and that's why she's mad.
Me: Sorry it took so long.
SC: Better not be chips and cheese!
Me: *blinkblink* I'm sorry?
SC: It better have my food on there!
Me: It has both white chicken and rice, just like you ordered.
SC: I'm not paying $6 for chips and cheese!
Me: You can check the order if you like.
SC: $6 is a rip-off for chips and cheese!
I sigh, grab a plastic knife, and open the box. I push some things aside so that I can point out each and every ingredient.
Me: It has tortilla chips, topped with rice, a chopped half breast of chicken, an even layer of bean dip, a layer of melted cheese, sour cream on the side like you asked, jalapenos, tomatoes, no onions like you asked, and a four-ounce of BBQ sauce."
SC: I don't want chips and cheese for $6!
Me: Have a nice day, ma'am. (Only time I've ever had to do that, but really what more could I say?)
The woman then walks to H's register (apparently weird things only happen when I work with her). That's right. She was not surprised by the cost. She knew how much it cost. She still ordered it.
She didn't gripe in line or to H, but as she exited, I could still hear her going on about "chips and cheese."
---
Stupid Customer Jokes
At least once a day, everyday I worked, this would happen:
Good customer: What's the <lime green chicken salad> like?
Me: I'm a vegetarian, but I can give you a sample if you like. Or, if you need more help choosing, I can get another coworker to help you.
Unrelated customer: I'm a vegetarian, too! But, I still eat beef and chicken and pork! Man, those are delicious!
If you're going to mock my morals, please be original about it.
---
The Elephant
Note: I have nothing against fat people. I'm technically overweight, and have battled with it since I was a child, only recently approaching a shape I'm comfortable with. My mother is obese, and almost half of my friends have been overweight or obese. I mean, it's the South for crying out loud. However...
Man walks in 5 minutes 'til closing. He's ENORMOUS. I'm actually impressed by the fact that he walks easily. I've never seen someone that big walk without assistance, much less with ease. I don't hold his size against him though and treat him with the absurd happiness I treat everyone else.
SC orders two taco salads. Now one of these things fills up a whole standard-size styrofoam take-out box, so I assumed that he was ordering for more than one person until he asked for the exact same specifications (minus this, plus that) on both. Okay, now I know why you're that big, but surely this enough.
SC keeps looking at the menu. I ask if there's anything else and he nods, I wait. Again, because the salads are freaking HUGE, I'm assuming he's ordering for someone else.
SC: Yeah... the nachos...
Me: Do you have a question?
SC: *nod* How big are they?
Me: We fill the box.
SC: So they're big then?
Me: Oh, yes, I can't finish one!
SC looks utterly offended. This breaks my heart. (Really, I like to consider myself polite and helpful. Offending someone accidentally is a big deal.) What did I do wrong? That's the same thing I say to everyone. They always take it as helpful, a warning, or a friendly challenge. What did I say wrong?
While glaring at me, he goes on to give me the exact same specifications for the nachos that he gave for the salads. What? That's it? You're angry because I'm a size 12 dress and you're a hulking mass of fat determined to crush your organs with your own weight?
If you know it's wrong, don't order the nachos!
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COWORKERS!
I wouldn't normally talk about coworkers, but these stories are extra special:
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Punk Makes His Exit
Punk is an hour late. H calls him in. Punk claims he didn't know he was scheduled. H says he needs to write these things down. Punk says well he has things planned. H says he should have let the manager know, and he has to come in because we're understaffed.
Punk comes in and starts griping because he "got a job at" (note: got a call-back, was not scheduled, had not signed papers, was certainly not actually employed) the location within walking distance of his house, and he does not want to work at this hellhole anymore.
H is pregnant now and has to pee every ten minutes. As soon as she goes to do so, Punk goes in the back. Waitress comes up from back, asking for H. I tell her H is in the bathroom. Waitress waits angrily, but this waitress is always mad about something. When H comes back, Waitress demands to know why H told Punk he could leave when we're understaffed. H said she did no such thing. Waitress says, "Well, he walked right out the back a few minutes ago." H sends Coworker to look for Punk's scooter. Sure enough, Punk and his scooter are gone.
H calls Manager. Manager is currently AT Punk's preferred location. Punk is unemployable at all locations.
Waitress 2 laughs hysterically. Saying, "That's exactly what <employee fired before my arrival> did! If he'd said anything, we'd've told him!"
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Horrible Person
Note: One of my high school friends and I got very close after I went to college. We became so close in fact, that we call each other sisters. She is also 100% USDA-approved Grade-A Lesbian. I've always supported gay rights, but since that was revealed, every time the subject comes up, I think about her and what I want for her, which just so happens to be the world on a platter.
A waiter I used to think of as very cool and shall now on be called @#$% overheard me joking with H that if she had a boy her ultra-girliness would probably make him gay. (No, I'm not that ignorant, but I've never met a gay person offended by light-hearted jokes. If anyone here is, I apologize.) He then goes on a rant about how no son of his would be gay. (He is currently engaged to the only good waitress we had.) I'm not going to go into specifics, but the gist was that he wanted his son (explative)ing girls left-and-right, but if son (graphic image) under his roof, his son would be disowned if not hospitalized.
At this point, I grab an empty onion canister and go to the back like I'm going to get a replacement. I stay in the walk in until I'm calm enough to go back out.
C, a 16 year old waiter who is openly gay, and such a good kid that I'm really glad he's quitting, and was a semi-friend who was very angry when I was fired as he was one of the few that recognized how much slack I picked up there, asked me if something was wrong. I decided not to tell him because it was probably best if he didn't know he had to work with such a horrible person. (He was in back washing dishes the whole time.)
When I return to the front, @#$% has returned to his waiterly duties, and H says she's glad I left. Apparently, someone told him beating up gays was a hate crime, and this set him off. According to him, he beat up gays all the time in high school, and it should be perfectly legal to go around beating up whoever you want just because you don't like them, even though they have done nothing to you.
Next time I went to the back, he was talking to C about it, saying stuff about how he has no problem with gays, he just doesn't want his fictional son to do things he's uncomfortable with in his house. C obviously didn't believe him, but C is as non-confrontational as I am, so he just kept nodding his head hoping @#$% would finish and leave.
It should be noted that the whole rant took place at the front, behind the counter, where ALL the customers could see and hear him.
When I got home, I spent an hour crying to my best friend over it.
but for the very big person i have one thing to say. I am a big person. I can smile and say i cant finish a AND MEAN IT!! i can't finish most things the little skinny chicks i know can in one sitting.
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