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The odds, they are a staggering...
Went out to grab food (fast, cheap, and easy, just like me) from Jack in the Box (love some of their food, and occasionally, I just need a hunk of beef and melted cheese...) I went in, mostly because I can't for the life of me go through drive thrus (see: little use of left hand, no control over my driving, so I can't really get very close to the window...) I line up behind one guy and his... son(?) who have the world's most complex order ever... hell, even I got confused... the register jockey had to get her manager to help her. (I assumed she was new. I wasn't in a hurry about anything)... and looked to my right at a woman standing at the unopened register, with a visible hundred dollar bill in her hand. Now, she was definitely there before me, and I was hoping she was part of this bizarre quest for food taking place in front of me.
Guy and Son finally pay, and move off to the side to get their drinks, woman moves up to register, and the universe goes, "Screw you, Rubi!" Woman orders a sandwich (three dollars) and a thing of fries (one dollars).
Meanwhile, guy suddenly turns, gives me the most serious look I could imagine from the corner of my eye and suddenly spouts, "Well, now I know why J I T B is so slow."
In my mind, I play out the whole ensuing conversation about immigrants, and decide it's best for all not to rise to his bait.
Back to the transaction in front of me, cashier once again requires assistance (again, I assume she's knew to the register) to figure out how to ring what the woman wants. (Still not in a hurry, I have four hours till Rocky...) Woman finally pays her $4.58 bill with that hundred I saw sticking out of her hand, I roll my eyes, and wait for the manager to change that hundred.
Side note: I've been in that restaurant fairly often when that manager works, and I've never once heard him treat his workers nicely. I'm not sure if he's just playing with them, I mean, I know I joke around with my coworkers too...
Anyway, I get up to the register, give my order, perhaps a mite too fast, as I'm used to rattling off my order, I know the questions they're going to ask ahead of time. And that requires my repeating the order twice... so she gets everything I said. No biggie. Not angry at the register jockey. Angry at the customers in front of me.
Went out to grab food (fast, cheap, and easy, just like me) from Jack in the Box (love some of their food, and occasionally, I just need a hunk of beef and melted cheese...) I went in, mostly because I can't for the life of me go through drive thrus (see: little use of left hand, no control over my driving, so I can't really get very close to the window...) I line up behind one guy and his... son(?) who have the world's most complex order ever... hell, even I got confused... the register jockey had to get her manager to help her. (I assumed she was new. I wasn't in a hurry about anything)... and looked to my right at a woman standing at the unopened register, with a visible hundred dollar bill in her hand. Now, she was definitely there before me, and I was hoping she was part of this bizarre quest for food taking place in front of me.
Guy and Son finally pay, and move off to the side to get their drinks, woman moves up to register, and the universe goes, "Screw you, Rubi!" Woman orders a sandwich (three dollars) and a thing of fries (one dollars).
Meanwhile, guy suddenly turns, gives me the most serious look I could imagine from the corner of my eye and suddenly spouts, "Well, now I know why J I T B is so slow."
In my mind, I play out the whole ensuing conversation about immigrants, and decide it's best for all not to rise to his bait.
Back to the transaction in front of me, cashier once again requires assistance (again, I assume she's knew to the register) to figure out how to ring what the woman wants. (Still not in a hurry, I have four hours till Rocky...) Woman finally pays her $4.58 bill with that hundred I saw sticking out of her hand, I roll my eyes, and wait for the manager to change that hundred.
Side note: I've been in that restaurant fairly often when that manager works, and I've never once heard him treat his workers nicely. I'm not sure if he's just playing with them, I mean, I know I joke around with my coworkers too...
Anyway, I get up to the register, give my order, perhaps a mite too fast, as I'm used to rattling off my order, I know the questions they're going to ask ahead of time. And that requires my repeating the order twice... so she gets everything I said. No biggie. Not angry at the register jockey. Angry at the customers in front of me.