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For the past three Friday nights I've been working with one of the 3rd shift managers in deli due to late night rushes. 12AM is when the drunks like to come by and get more liquor and a hoagie to wash it down with.
So the manager (we'll call her C) and I were making a crapload of hoagies and this group of drunk ass fucktards stumble in yelling at the top of their lungs about something stupid and proceed to place an order. One wanted to order a hoagie verbally but we aren't allowed to do that anymore (I love my job).
DA-drunk ass
Me-Ready to hop over the counter and kick some ass
C-Cool manager
DA: "Can I just tell you what I want? I can't see shit!"
C: "No, you have to use the screen. That's what it's for. We can't make you a sandwich unless you use it."
Me:
So he orders a sandwich and his order number is #90. I call out his sandwich a dozen times and he's bitchin about how his order number is XXX.
We stop at 99 and start over at 00 you ignorant ass...
He keeps bitchin about his number because he'd most likely thrown out the slip that was printed out after he placed his order and he kept showing us his actual receipt that thankfully said what kind of sandwich he ordered.
After we did that, we hear a giggle and he's standing near the cash registers with an apple and orange and proceeds to throw the apple at the shelf thing in front of me.
He is so lucky it didn't hit me.
Then he ran with his friends outside and we wrote down the license plate number so C could do something with it later on.
Me: "If that thing had actually hit me, I'd have jumped over that counter and beat his ass. I'd lose my job."
C: "Then I'd lose mine too because I'd be hopping over with you. There is a limit to how much a customer can get away with and I won't stand for my employees to deal with it."
So the manager (we'll call her C) and I were making a crapload of hoagies and this group of drunk ass fucktards stumble in yelling at the top of their lungs about something stupid and proceed to place an order. One wanted to order a hoagie verbally but we aren't allowed to do that anymore (I love my job).
DA-drunk ass
Me-Ready to hop over the counter and kick some ass
C-Cool manager
DA: "Can I just tell you what I want? I can't see shit!"
C: "No, you have to use the screen. That's what it's for. We can't make you a sandwich unless you use it."
Me:
So he orders a sandwich and his order number is #90. I call out his sandwich a dozen times and he's bitchin about how his order number is XXX.
We stop at 99 and start over at 00 you ignorant ass...
He keeps bitchin about his number because he'd most likely thrown out the slip that was printed out after he placed his order and he kept showing us his actual receipt that thankfully said what kind of sandwich he ordered.
After we did that, we hear a giggle and he's standing near the cash registers with an apple and orange and proceeds to throw the apple at the shelf thing in front of me.
He is so lucky it didn't hit me.
Then he ran with his friends outside and we wrote down the license plate number so C could do something with it later on.
Me: "If that thing had actually hit me, I'd have jumped over that counter and beat his ass. I'd lose my job."
C: "Then I'd lose mine too because I'd be hopping over with you. There is a limit to how much a customer can get away with and I won't stand for my employees to deal with it."
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