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So for the first time in nearly a year and a half I have worked overtime, despite being a summer part-timer at the bagel place. Thus, I have been around every day for the past week+ and have seen all the good stuff come through. I thought about posting everything on the day it happened, but I'm going to just unload the week in brief:
Call Rod Serling
OL: Old Lady (Senile?)
Me:
OL: Where are your bathrooms?
Me: *Gestures* Around the corner there, in the back.
*Old lady leaves, comes back, finds me helping another customer.*
OL: The lights are off in the bathroom.
Me: Oh, there's a switch by the door.
*OL hasn't paid attention to this and is shuffling out the door.*
Me:
Please tell me she didn't go on the floor.
Upon inspection, both bathrooms were spotless, and the lights were on in both...
You are now entering... the Twilight Zone.
Thunderbitch, Ho!
One of my coworker/supervisors got into this one:
CW: Coworker/Supervisor
RC: Regular Customer Lady
TH: Thunderbitch (ho)!
CW: That'll be $XX.XX.
RC: *Hands over money, takes change, all the while chitchatting with CW.*
CW: *Closes drawer.* Anyway, it was nice to see y-
TH: WILL YOU SHUT UP AND LET ME PAY FOR MY FOOD!?
RC meandered to her table while CW rang up Thunderbitch, then CW had to sit and take a break.
This particular specimen has driven CW to tears before, always with some aggressive screaming BS. I told CW to let me deal with her next time, and if she says anything even remotely disrespectful (to anyone, not just me) I'm kicking her out. Nobody fucks around with my supervisors on my watch! Besides, I'm leaving for school in a week so what will the boss do to me? (The correct answer for those of you playing along at home is: Zilch.)
Face, Wall. Wall, Face.
CW (not the one from above) comes in today with a cut on the bridge of his nose, a swollen lip and what looks like the remnants of a black eye.
Me:
WF: Wallface (CW from intro, not the brightest bulb on the plastic menorah)
DF: Dollface
DF: *Still giggling as I approach*
Me: *Looking at WF* Do I want to know?
DF: No. *Heeheehee*
Me: *Glances at DF, back to WF*
WF: I walked into a wall.
DF: He walked into a wall!
Me:
WF: I was sober.
Me: I believe you. *Exit stage thataway*
The balls you must have to admit you did that to yourself while sober is quite overshadowed by my complete and utter lack of surprise. Go, you... I mean away. No, really, beat it. I could catch my death of stupid from you if you've got it that badly.
Speaking of Balls
Bossman asks for me on the phone yesterday while I'm working the closing shift. It was his day off, but he wants help with some project. He'll be by in a few minutes. Grab a screwdriver and a couple milk crates. Joy.
BM: Bossman (or bowel movement, whichever suits you)
Me: Moi
CW: Coworker
SUP: Supervisor
BM: This'll be right up your alley, since you're an engineering major.
Me: (Sarcastic face) Hence the screwdriver.
BM: Huh?
Me: Never mind. What's up?
BM: When (X company) went out of business, I took down their signs off the marquee out front and brought them to a sign company.
Me: (Sounds illegal. Go on. My interest is piqued.) Cool...?
BM: Well, I had them make the old (X company) signs into new signs for (bagel place).
Me: (Theft and vandalism, that sounds great.) Ok, so you want help putting up the new signs? (Or am I here to shovel the dirt back on top of you once you jump in the grave you're digging yourself?)
BM: Yup.
*New signs get put up, old teeny-tiny sign gets taken down, I return to work, he goes home.)
Me: (To coworkers) I think Bossman has gone and done something very, very stupid.
SUP: That's news?
CW: Are you surprised?
Me: Not really.
I wasn't. Not by what he did. I'm more surprised that he had the stones to actually do it. And that he spent money on it, which must be some kind of phobia of his. And that he doesn't seem to realize just how much trouble he can get in for it.
*Brainwave*
Me: Yours truly
SC: A traveler from Northern Canada... or just an idiot.
Me: Can I help you?
SC: I'd like a bagel.
Me: Sure! What type of bagel?
SC: A bagel. Uh. Plain.
Me: Ok, a plain bagel?
SC: No, uh, yes. A plain bagel.
Me: Ok then. Just as-is?
SC: Nnnnn...ooo...? Uh... Cream cheese?
Me: Sure thing, plain cream cheese?
SC: Yeah. Plain cream cheese.
Me: *Slices bagel, lifts spreader of cream cheese, brings it down to bagel-*
SC: NO! TOASTED!
Me: Whoops! Sorry. That's no problem, I can toast that for ya. *Toasts bagel. Completes bagel.* For here or to go?
SC: To- (interrupts self)
Me:
SC: To go.
Me: *Takes off imaginary tinfoil hat*
Good thing I was wearing my imaginary brainwave helmet, or I might've lost some vital thoughts into the I.Q. black hole that I've just discovered.
Missing the point
We pool tips. There's a tip jar where people occasionally toss their loose change (not very often if it's after 9, and never after 6) but any tips we get handed to us we're supposed to refer to the tip jar or else put them there ourselves.
CW: Dollface from before
OM: Old Man (My customer who CW grilled a sandwich for)
Me:
OG: Old Geezer (My customer who CW didn't grill a sandwich for)
OM: (After having eaten his sandwich) Can you get me that girl who made my sandwich?
Me: *Walking back to the grill* Hey Dollface, a customer is looking for you.
OM: That sandwich was very good. (Hands a couple bills over the counter)
CW: Thanks.
*Two minutes pass*
OG: What type of bread would go with (insert deli meat).
Me: Our whole wheat would go pretty well with that, or you could try the multigrain, that's very good also.
*Short spiel about different breads going with different foods, OG picks whole wheat, gets it sliced, I go to ring him up.*
Me: *Hands change.* Have a great day, sir.
OG: Thank you. Here you go son. *Pushes a couple bucks across the counter to me.*
Me: Thank you sir. *Watches him leave. Puts bucks in tip jar. Walks back behind counter with CW.*
CW: That old man was so nice.
Me: Yeah, he gave me a tip but I felt bad and tossed it in the jar.
CW: Oh, I meant the one from before. With the sandwich?
Me: Yeah, he was pretty cool.
CW: And he gave me a personal tip! *Shows off bills.*
Me:
Yes, that's true, he handed the bills to you over the counter. That makes them a tip, as you've stated. That means they go in the tip jar with everyone else's. You've just highlighted the second biggest problem with pooling tips, right behind crappy workers getting a share of everyone else's tips are the people who don't put their tips in the pool.
Who's deluded?
(This has to be typed twice, from each point of view. First from mine.)
Me:
BD: Boss's Daughter (coworker)
I get a call at 10am (while still in bed) on my only day off in 12 days of working:
Me: Hello?
BD: Hi, it's (entitled bitch) from (bagel hell). Can you work today?
Me: (Still waking up) Uh, 'm I s'pose a be working t'day?
BD: No, I'm calling to see if you can work.
Me: (Suddenly awake and ready to defend my day off) No, sorry, I have to clean up my room and go to the bank and run a bunch of errands today.
BD: (Cutesy voice) Are you sure? Not even for a few hours? (Supervisor) is sick and needs to go home.
Me: (Game over. If Supervisor is sick I'm not going to be a douche and make her stay at work.) Ok, I'll come in. What time?
BD: Really? You're awesome. Can you come in from like eleven to four?
Me: Fine. See you in a bit.
BD: *Click*
Me: Fuck.
(In-store version)
CW: Coworker
BD: As above
BD: Hi, it's (entitled bitch) from (bagel hell). Can you work today?
CW: (He's gonna say no.)
BD: No, I'm calling to see if you can work.
CW: (He's gonna say no.)
BD: (Cutesy voice) Are you sure? Not even for a few hours? (Supervisor) is sick and needs to go home.
CW: (I told you so. He said no.)
BD: Really? You're awesome. Can you come in from like eleven to four?
CW: (He said yes?)
BD: (Hangs up.) Oh my God, did you hear how fake nice I was?
CW: (Whattabitch.) Yeah. (Awkward smile.)
I fill in for people. That's what I do. I've been sick before (not for a year but I have been sick before) and people fill in for me, so I don't mind doing anyone any favors, as long as the people who I'm doing favors for don't abuse it. Which is why I never do favors for the boss/wife/daughter. Apparently because of this incident the daughter now thinks I have a thing for her (and thinks that I think she likes me as well, though I know she's in hate-hate relationships with almost everyone at work, including myself) and does the cutesy voice all the time around me. *Shudder* I don't know, but I'm pretty sure entitlement-whore do-whatever-I-want-cause-my-dad-owns-the-business make-everyone-else-do-everything-for-me asshats aren't my type.
Oh, bother.
Bossman wants me to clean out the recently-emptied dumpster with a five gallon bucket containing half a bottle of bleach and four gallons or so of water. Which, in layman's terms, means the bleach-to-water ratio is absolutely toxic. I agree to do so, and spend twenty minutes throwing smaller buckets (drawn from the large bucket) of bleach into said dumpster, while dodging the nest of hornets that has been stirred up by first the trash truck and now my flinging poisonous liquid.
Final score:
Bossman: 0
MMATM: 1000000
Bees: -(10^n) where n > infinity
Zero stings and lots of bleachy bees later, I can say with authority that Thursday was a bad day to be a hornet at Bagel Hell.
And that, in no particular order, was This Week at Bagel Hell.
Apologies to Gravekeeper and Kara_CS for stealing their posting style (though it is quite effective) and one of their customers (see "Brainwave"). You can have her back. Actually, please take her back. Pretty please. I don't want your customers. Euthanasia was invented for a reason, and that reason is unwanted customers.
Call Rod Serling
OL: Old Lady (Senile?)
Me:
OL: Where are your bathrooms?
Me: *Gestures* Around the corner there, in the back.
*Old lady leaves, comes back, finds me helping another customer.*
OL: The lights are off in the bathroom.
Me: Oh, there's a switch by the door.
*OL hasn't paid attention to this and is shuffling out the door.*
Me:
Please tell me she didn't go on the floor.Upon inspection, both bathrooms were spotless, and the lights were on in both...
You are now entering... the Twilight Zone.
Thunderbitch, Ho!
One of my coworker/supervisors got into this one:
CW: Coworker/Supervisor
RC: Regular Customer Lady
TH: Thunderbitch (ho)!
CW: That'll be $XX.XX.
RC: *Hands over money, takes change, all the while chitchatting with CW.*
CW: *Closes drawer.* Anyway, it was nice to see y-
TH: WILL YOU SHUT UP AND LET ME PAY FOR MY FOOD!?
RC meandered to her table while CW rang up Thunderbitch, then CW had to sit and take a break.
This particular specimen has driven CW to tears before, always with some aggressive screaming BS. I told CW to let me deal with her next time, and if she says anything even remotely disrespectful (to anyone, not just me) I'm kicking her out. Nobody fucks around with my supervisors on my watch! Besides, I'm leaving for school in a week so what will the boss do to me? (The correct answer for those of you playing along at home is: Zilch.)
Face, Wall. Wall, Face.
CW (not the one from above) comes in today with a cut on the bridge of his nose, a swollen lip and what looks like the remnants of a black eye.
Me:
WF: Wallface (CW from intro, not the brightest bulb on the plastic menorah)
DF: Dollface
DF: *Still giggling as I approach*
Me: *Looking at WF* Do I want to know?
DF: No. *Heeheehee*
Me: *Glances at DF, back to WF*
WF: I walked into a wall.
DF: He walked into a wall!
Me:
WF: I was sober.
Me: I believe you. *Exit stage thataway*
The balls you must have to admit you did that to yourself while sober is quite overshadowed by my complete and utter lack of surprise. Go, you... I mean away. No, really, beat it. I could catch my death of stupid from you if you've got it that badly.
Speaking of Balls
Bossman asks for me on the phone yesterday while I'm working the closing shift. It was his day off, but he wants help with some project. He'll be by in a few minutes. Grab a screwdriver and a couple milk crates. Joy.
BM: Bossman (or bowel movement, whichever suits you)
Me: Moi
CW: Coworker
SUP: Supervisor
BM: This'll be right up your alley, since you're an engineering major.
Me: (Sarcastic face) Hence the screwdriver.
BM: Huh?
Me: Never mind. What's up?
BM: When (X company) went out of business, I took down their signs off the marquee out front and brought them to a sign company.
Me: (Sounds illegal. Go on. My interest is piqued.) Cool...?
BM: Well, I had them make the old (X company) signs into new signs for (bagel place).
Me: (Theft and vandalism, that sounds great.) Ok, so you want help putting up the new signs? (Or am I here to shovel the dirt back on top of you once you jump in the grave you're digging yourself?)
BM: Yup.
*New signs get put up, old teeny-tiny sign gets taken down, I return to work, he goes home.)
Me: (To coworkers) I think Bossman has gone and done something very, very stupid.
SUP: That's news?
CW: Are you surprised?
Me: Not really.
I wasn't. Not by what he did. I'm more surprised that he had the stones to actually do it. And that he spent money on it, which must be some kind of phobia of his. And that he doesn't seem to realize just how much trouble he can get in for it.
*Brainwave*
Me: Yours truly
SC: A traveler from Northern Canada... or just an idiot.
Me: Can I help you?
SC: I'd like a bagel.
Me: Sure! What type of bagel?
SC: A bagel. Uh. Plain.
Me: Ok, a plain bagel?
SC: No, uh, yes. A plain bagel.
Me: Ok then. Just as-is?
SC: Nnnnn...ooo...? Uh... Cream cheese?
Me: Sure thing, plain cream cheese?
SC: Yeah. Plain cream cheese.
Me: *Slices bagel, lifts spreader of cream cheese, brings it down to bagel-*
SC: NO! TOASTED!
Me: Whoops! Sorry. That's no problem, I can toast that for ya. *Toasts bagel. Completes bagel.* For here or to go?
SC: To- (interrupts self)
Me:
SC: To go.
Me: *Takes off imaginary tinfoil hat*
Good thing I was wearing my imaginary brainwave helmet, or I might've lost some vital thoughts into the I.Q. black hole that I've just discovered.
Missing the point
We pool tips. There's a tip jar where people occasionally toss their loose change (not very often if it's after 9, and never after 6) but any tips we get handed to us we're supposed to refer to the tip jar or else put them there ourselves.
CW: Dollface from before
OM: Old Man (My customer who CW grilled a sandwich for)
Me:
OG: Old Geezer (My customer who CW didn't grill a sandwich for)
OM: (After having eaten his sandwich) Can you get me that girl who made my sandwich?
Me: *Walking back to the grill* Hey Dollface, a customer is looking for you.
OM: That sandwich was very good. (Hands a couple bills over the counter)
CW: Thanks.
*Two minutes pass*
OG: What type of bread would go with (insert deli meat).
Me: Our whole wheat would go pretty well with that, or you could try the multigrain, that's very good also.
*Short spiel about different breads going with different foods, OG picks whole wheat, gets it sliced, I go to ring him up.*
Me: *Hands change.* Have a great day, sir.
OG: Thank you. Here you go son. *Pushes a couple bucks across the counter to me.*
Me: Thank you sir. *Watches him leave. Puts bucks in tip jar. Walks back behind counter with CW.*
CW: That old man was so nice.
Me: Yeah, he gave me a tip but I felt bad and tossed it in the jar.
CW: Oh, I meant the one from before. With the sandwich?
Me: Yeah, he was pretty cool.
CW: And he gave me a personal tip! *Shows off bills.*
Me:
Yes, that's true, he handed the bills to you over the counter. That makes them a tip, as you've stated. That means they go in the tip jar with everyone else's. You've just highlighted the second biggest problem with pooling tips, right behind crappy workers getting a share of everyone else's tips are the people who don't put their tips in the pool.
Who's deluded?
(This has to be typed twice, from each point of view. First from mine.)
Me:
BD: Boss's Daughter (coworker)
I get a call at 10am (while still in bed) on my only day off in 12 days of working:
Me: Hello?
BD: Hi, it's (entitled bitch) from (bagel hell). Can you work today?
Me: (Still waking up) Uh, 'm I s'pose a be working t'day?
BD: No, I'm calling to see if you can work.
Me: (Suddenly awake and ready to defend my day off) No, sorry, I have to clean up my room and go to the bank and run a bunch of errands today.
BD: (Cutesy voice) Are you sure? Not even for a few hours? (Supervisor) is sick and needs to go home.
Me: (Game over. If Supervisor is sick I'm not going to be a douche and make her stay at work.) Ok, I'll come in. What time?
BD: Really? You're awesome. Can you come in from like eleven to four?
Me: Fine. See you in a bit.
BD: *Click*
Me: Fuck.
(In-store version)
CW: Coworker
BD: As above
BD: Hi, it's (entitled bitch) from (bagel hell). Can you work today?
CW: (He's gonna say no.)
BD: No, I'm calling to see if you can work.
CW: (He's gonna say no.)
BD: (Cutesy voice) Are you sure? Not even for a few hours? (Supervisor) is sick and needs to go home.
CW: (I told you so. He said no.)
BD: Really? You're awesome. Can you come in from like eleven to four?
CW: (He said yes?)
BD: (Hangs up.) Oh my God, did you hear how fake nice I was?
CW: (Whattabitch.) Yeah. (Awkward smile.)
I fill in for people. That's what I do. I've been sick before (not for a year but I have been sick before) and people fill in for me, so I don't mind doing anyone any favors, as long as the people who I'm doing favors for don't abuse it. Which is why I never do favors for the boss/wife/daughter. Apparently because of this incident the daughter now thinks I have a thing for her (and thinks that I think she likes me as well, though I know she's in hate-hate relationships with almost everyone at work, including myself) and does the cutesy voice all the time around me. *Shudder* I don't know, but I'm pretty sure entitlement-whore do-whatever-I-want-cause-my-dad-owns-the-business make-everyone-else-do-everything-for-me asshats aren't my type.
Oh, bother.
Bossman wants me to clean out the recently-emptied dumpster with a five gallon bucket containing half a bottle of bleach and four gallons or so of water. Which, in layman's terms, means the bleach-to-water ratio is absolutely toxic. I agree to do so, and spend twenty minutes throwing smaller buckets (drawn from the large bucket) of bleach into said dumpster, while dodging the nest of hornets that has been stirred up by first the trash truck and now my flinging poisonous liquid.
Final score:
Bossman: 0
MMATM: 1000000
Bees: -(10^n) where n > infinity
Zero stings and lots of bleachy bees later, I can say with authority that Thursday was a bad day to be a hornet at Bagel Hell.
And that, in no particular order, was This Week at Bagel Hell.
Apologies to Gravekeeper and Kara_CS for stealing their posting style (though it is quite effective) and one of their customers (see "Brainwave"). You can have her back. Actually, please take her back. Pretty please. I don't want your customers. Euthanasia was invented for a reason, and that reason is unwanted customers.
I AM the evil bastard!
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