Ah, the last day

[Writer Cath]

I worked at the Tim Horton's for two summers. While I actually enjoyed most aspects of the job and the SC's were surprisingly sparse, I still always eagerly anticipated my last day.

Mentioned this before, but it's pertinent to the post. On my last day during the first summer I worked there, I served a perfectly fluent Chinese lady. This rather imposing trucker type walks up, smiles at me and says "Man, aren't there any white people left in Canada?"

I started to smile until his words fully sank in. I think I just gave him a expression and sent him on his way. Keep in mind that the lady was only a couple meters away at the sandwich station and could possibly have heard him.

Looking back on it, I probably should have fired back some snappy (re: profanity laden) retort, but it didn't occur to me until later. That and it probably would have hampered my getting hired there a second time, heh.

So what about you guys? Anyone have a good story about something the did/wanted to do on their last day?

Writer Cath

PS: Apologies if this thread has appeared in another form.

[Slave to the Phone]

On my last day at my library job, I created a book in the computer and then checked it out to the head witch. I understand that many happened when she got her overdue notice. I was also told that head witch had a heart attack the next day and that nobody blamed me for it. Especially not the people who were happy that head witch was gone

[BrassCowboy]

When I quit my job over the summer, I left quietly because I still had a chance of getting my job back (which I did).

Now if I have to quit again, I have it all planned out. Around the Christmas busy season, I just want to walk out for a lunch break and never come back. No big deal, right? Wrong. We get very busy and we are still highly understaffed. Not to toot my own horn, but for me to leave would be a big loss for them.

Cruel? Yes. But I really wanna do it.

[Department stores *sigh*]

Just two little things former co-workers did on their last days

1. A guy did the closing announcment in an east indian voice and he turned around to have a lady who looked of eastern decent staring at him pissed off. He laughed and ran off. Yes it was mean but we still kinda laughed at it.

2. Back in my fast food joint a guy on his last day filled two HUGE garbage cans completely full of water then moved them infront of two doors then walked out the back. At the time was kinda funny how random it was

[MystyGlyttyr]

Well, Cath, since you insisted I post it...

I worked at a deli for two months. Within two weeks, I despised the place and everyone in it. They were all women, almost all wenches, who looked down on me and hated me and regularly belittled me, variously because either A) I wasn't pregnant with my fourth child by four daddies at the age of 20, B), I didn't weigh 500 pounds at the height of 5'1", C) I wasn't black, D) I am moderately good-looking, E) I didn't think men were the hellspawn of the universe, and F) I wasn't in my late 100's. I don't say it to be mean, I say it to be factual. To give an idea of what working there was like, I lasted two months. I went back three weeks later to buy some cheese from the one other girl there I could stand, and she told me they had already been through two more girls since I left.

The cook especially despised me. After all, since they hired me and three hours later, immediately left me to run the entire deli on my own, I more or less HAD to learn how to use "her" chicken fryer, so she was threatened. And so she took every oppurtunity to put down the work I did, the chicken I cooked, the way I cleaned, or to pawn off on me the jobs she didn't want to do, like cleaning the burnt grease from the fryer or spearing and cooking the rotisserie (sp?) chickens...NONE OF WHICH I was trained to do...while she criticized how I did it basically over my shoulder and complained to the manager, who then came along to rip me up.

Honestly, if I were to completely describe every single thing these women had put me through, it would take up ten entries.

So after two months of waking up stressed, with stomach aches, throwing up because I had to go to that place and work, I had it. I knew I could find a job that paid the same shit wages for far less stress, and I planned to. First, to quit.

I gave them more warning than they deserved. I went in and told them this would be my last day. They bitched, they complained, they threatened, they basically made me do all the work that day. I took it, knowing full well that within three hours, they would be gone and I would be on my own for five hours. The dummies didn't think of what they'd done, giving me that unsupervised time.

I didn't shirk any job that would have been "mine". I served customers politely. I arranged sandwiches for them. I sliced their meat perfectly. Gave exact change. Cleaned everything out front. Put away the salad bar. With a huge fracking smile on my face, perfectly at peace. It was a Zen night.

Then, the deli was closed, and it was time for me to do the dishes that the cook, of course, did not do before she left. And since every time before that she did not do HER dishes, I was the one who got in trouble, she just stopped doing them. The fryer sat full of grease so dirty it was BLACK and crunchy chicken crap. The rotisserie was still sitting in the oven where it had been since before I ever got to work. They stayed there. After all, I had NEVER had the clearing to work in the oven. After 8 hours sitting in there, I doubted they could get any grosser.

First things first. Clean out the fryer pan. I took each and every dirty pan, happily dipped out a half-pot of disgusting grease, and then lovingly stored them on the floor in the meat locker.

Then, of course, there was the part where you added new oil. Unfortunately, we only had half the necessary oil, and since I wasn't supposed to go into the back by myself and get new oil (even though I always had HAD to before), I just made do with what I had...a full bag of chicken breading into the half-full greasy pot. Let THAT soak overnight.

The floor was greasy and nasty. I DID scrub and clean it. I didn't want to hurt anyone THAT much.

Then, however, since I didn't have the biological hazard training or the proper protection to clean our bathroom (even though I had always been made to before), I figured someone else could deal with the turds that always managed to find themselves stuck and smeared to the side of the toilets EVERY DAY. At least the cook WAS always washing her hands...

I could have done so much more, but I wasn't allowed to have overtime, despite the fact that I very regularly was given more work than could have been completed in five hours, even without having to take time to serve customers. So I clocked out right at 8 and walked out with my head high and a new job one week later.

Nowhere NEAR as mean as I wanted to be. I didn't have enough time to form a chicken blood sacrifice in the middle of the bakery counter. Still, I find myself satisfied.