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The Master (Part 2)
This is a continuation of this thread. I'm afraid that neither the quality nor the quantity of these will be close to BCPC, mainly because I worked the grill and almost always the morning shift. Though there were a few notable exceptions. Sorry it took me so long to type!
The Cheese Cult
I've met some strange people in my life, but I think that the worshipers of the cheese remain the oddest. You see, I suspect that their organization members were banned from eating "the holy substance" for all but the holiest of days. Unfortunately for these waning member, the temptation was just too much.
The front counter gets an order, and whatever weird science goes on that brings the information to my make line. This is unfortunate for me as I have to stop bowing down in front of the clam shell grill to actually make this order.
The last griller forgot to properly pardon himself from The Clam. He's no longer with us.
Sausage biscuit. I'm cracking open a biscuit when the MOD calls to me from the front: "That sausage biscuit has cheese." Hey, they pay my check! I give it a slice of the golden wonder. Thankfully, I don't spend too long away from The Clam; my only penance is a quick sear on the knuckle.
A few minutes later, I hear some old woman yelling at the drive thru. The same manager comes up with an exasperated look and tells me to make a biscuit with no cheese! Ah-HA! I'm on to their ploy! The guilt riddled pleasure of The Holy Substance was not to be yours on this of all days, you dairy follower.
All goes quiet, except for the soft music meant to please The Clam. I'm missing not being a master anymore...but this grill...this grill better watch its back. The rush at the 5am opening has already passed, so hearing a sudden ruckus at the front counter again was unexpected. I'm near the back of the store dealing with the oven when I hear raised voices. Only words I can make out are "WITH cheese!" There's back and forth with her and the manager, and I get back to the front (read: snooping position) just in time to hear the manager tells the lady to *leave the store!*
MOD: Lady, I'm not putting cheese on it.
CS1: Well tough on you! I the customer!
MOD: Nuh uh, not after dat! Go home and put cheese on it there! *manager pushes her biscuit back at her on the counter*
CS1: *fuming* I'm never coming back!
MOD: *stone silent. Very...very scary for this lady.*
Couple of the other back workers crowd around with me.
CW, whispering after the woman leaves.: Hey, MOD...is this the same lady? What's going on?
MOD, involving animated body language: This lady demanded we add cheese to her stuff because 'she forgot.' *manager wiggling fingers around her head to make air quotes* THEN she comes back and says she doesn't want cheese cuz she's allergic. Now she comes back and says she wants some? Screw that s***, I'm not getting sued.
Does it seem like miss manager was a bit rough around the edges? She was fun to watch when she went off
Alas, your poor cheese deity will look down upon his followers and see, with displeasure, one of you trying to eat him!
Cheese Costs Extra?!
The cheese cult was not to be so thwarted by our now annoyed manager. This was one of the few times I manned the front counter. I stayed on the grill and the make line almost the entire time at that store, but sometimes managers felt it a great idea to throw me on the register mid rush.
Because working the grill was great training in speeding through a line of hungry customers!
These two guys come up. The first one orders, pays, then steps aside. He's efficient. I like him.
The second guy comes up and stares at the menu all wide eyed. It was as if the menu was glowing. Well, it was glowing. But it was as if it was...glowing. Shuddup. Anyway, he orders a sausage biscuit, add cheese. If only I'd remembered what I'd already learned of these kind...
Me: Your total is $X.XX.
CS2: ...But on your SIGN, it says $X.YY!
Me: ...well, that's the normal price, but the cheese costs extra.
CS2:
Cheese costs extra?!
Me: Yes, s--
CS2: Why didn't you tell me that?! Now I don't have enough money to buy my breakfast! I'm hungry!
Meanwhile, his friend is rolling his eyes, embarrassed, and hands him a quarter with all the body language of, "Shut up, you sack of warts."
CS2: See?! Now <whatever his name was> has to help me pay for this! Do you you think I like having hand outs?
Me:
MOD (same one as above): Sir, cheese costs extra. Now you know.
Their food arrives and they both leave.
MOD, shaking her head, hand on hips: tssh...some guys are just assholes.
When Spellers Get Angry...
Now, onto my favorite part of this job. The headsets! It was a marvelous combination of omniscience and cool. Only the cool kids got to wear the headset, and by The Clam, I was going to be cool. This happened weeks into my summer employment, where I was steadily becoming the clam grill's master! Not quite there yet, but I was challenging its authority. Burnt knuckles no longer phased me.
I would sometimes sneak over to the wall hook and slide on the privileged headset. This miraculous little device would let me listen to the drive thru speaker as the customers order. Hey, it was something to do at 6:30 am. Besides, y'know, slowly be driven insane. Then one morning:
CW (taking drive thru orders, over the speaker): Welcome to our store, how can I help you?
CS3: Yeah, I want a bre--fas- --rrito. *Even without the crackle, the sound of the engine of his car was louder than his voice*
CW: I'm sorry, sir, can you repeat that?
S3: WHAT THE F*** is WRONG with you?! I said I want a BREAKFAST B-U-R-R-I-T-O! Are you stupid?! Do you HEAR me?! I said A B-R-E-A-K-F-A-S-T B-U-R-R-I-T=O! Rabble rabble rabble!
A, B, C, D, E, F, G!
Coworker walks up to the manager and points to the drive thru station. The wordless communication is obvious: "If you don't want to have to explain the body to the cops, you better get your butt back there." Meanwhile, the speller is transforming through the headset. It sounds like he's either charging up a DBZ style attack over the course of several flashback episodes, or he's preparing to void his bowels. Honestly? I'd want to see either one.
MOD clicks the communicate button on her headset and says coolly: "Sir, please drive up to the window."
He does. Enter about thirty seconds of MOD tearing him a new opening. He is not to talk to her workers that way. He's going hungry. She closes it with, "You're not welcome at this store. Don't come back!"
Overcompensation truck peels out and rushes off the property. Damn, I guess it was the bowel void.
Sticker Denied
More of a sucky manager story. At my store, we had to take these little lessons and get tested on them. If we passed, we got a sticker to put on our name tag. They were your bragging rights, just like an old beat up truck or arm candy. That was your status in the social totem pole.
Over the months there, I'd taken almost every test. Gotten almost every sticker. Still have dreams about how the potatoes are chosen to make the fries and how the rejects go to make the hash browns. Don't forget that water, air, and soap are harmful to the fried station! You know, all things that are awesome for you and me. I digress.
I never got my last sticker. The coolest sticker. The sticker with the chicken and the cow, dammit! I passed the test, but the awesome never came. I blame management for my denial into the upper echelon of the store. I fail at stickers
The Haunted Cow
This also isn't a sucky customer story. It is, however, the story of the cow. I don't know the cow's name, and I don't know the cow's story, but what I do know is that she's probably bored.
Remember those headsets? By default, they would transfer noises from the outside of the store. It was a slow time some morning, and it was a manager, myself, and drive thru taker "A" with the headsets. We're sort of shooting the breeze in the store waiting for a customer when i start hearing something over the headset.
Headset: .....moooooooooooOOO (the note raised in urgency at the end, but only for a moment)
Me: *blink, blink* ....hey, manager? A? Did you just hear a cow?
Manager, A: *staring at me with a mixture of fear and pity*
Me, pointing to the headset: Outside. Did you just hear something moo?
Manager, A: *taking a step back*
The Clam is making me hear things. It's psychological warfare. Great. So the days go by without a peep. Once again it's a pretty slow moment before the 7:30 rush, and once again I'm wearing the headset. Of course, The Clam isn't ready to give up that easily!
Headset: MOOOOOOoooooo (this one was stressed in the beginning, then got quieter)
Me, shaking my head, turning to coworker at the line: Okay, I just heard the cow again.
CW: *laughing herself crazy*
A, overhearing: *shaking her head at me, disappointed like*
A: Hey, Bronze is hearing the cow again.
Manager: Bronze, there's no cow.
Me: Yes, there is! It must be a cow...spirit. Is this store built on a graveyard?
Manager: *taking a step back*
It finally culminated a few weeks after. There were three or four people with the headsets: manager, current drive thru (A), cool coworker (G), and me.
Headset: ....mmooooo...
G: I JUST HEARD A COW!
Me: Me too!
*Insert whole store full of laughing employees)
Manager, under her breath: F***
A: Oh God, they're breeding!
CW3: Bronze, don't make me get the strap-on.
(That was an inside joke. Let's just say that I'd probably be violating a few site rules if I tell you about my then-coworkers. As much as I want to. Think the cast of any teen movie, and voila!)
Me: Dammit, G heard it too! You guys need to leave the cow alone!
G: There was a cow! Bronze isn't insane!
A: I give up
The prevalent theory was that some of the bigger engines made a moo-like sound while passing the speaker. I think this was the case for one incident, but for others I *know* there weren't any cars passing. Who knows...maybe the mystery of the cow will never be solved.
C'est bon? C'est bon.
The Cheese Cult
I've met some strange people in my life, but I think that the worshipers of the cheese remain the oddest. You see, I suspect that their organization members were banned from eating "the holy substance" for all but the holiest of days. Unfortunately for these waning member, the temptation was just too much.
The front counter gets an order, and whatever weird science goes on that brings the information to my make line. This is unfortunate for me as I have to stop bowing down in front of the clam shell grill to actually make this order.
The last griller forgot to properly pardon himself from The Clam. He's no longer with us.
Sausage biscuit. I'm cracking open a biscuit when the MOD calls to me from the front: "That sausage biscuit has cheese." Hey, they pay my check! I give it a slice of the golden wonder. Thankfully, I don't spend too long away from The Clam; my only penance is a quick sear on the knuckle.
A few minutes later, I hear some old woman yelling at the drive thru. The same manager comes up with an exasperated look and tells me to make a biscuit with no cheese! Ah-HA! I'm on to their ploy! The guilt riddled pleasure of The Holy Substance was not to be yours on this of all days, you dairy follower.
All goes quiet, except for the soft music meant to please The Clam. I'm missing not being a master anymore...but this grill...this grill better watch its back. The rush at the 5am opening has already passed, so hearing a sudden ruckus at the front counter again was unexpected. I'm near the back of the store dealing with the oven when I hear raised voices. Only words I can make out are "WITH cheese!" There's back and forth with her and the manager, and I get back to the front (read: snooping position) just in time to hear the manager tells the lady to *leave the store!*
MOD: Lady, I'm not putting cheese on it.
CS1: Well tough on you! I the customer!
MOD: Nuh uh, not after dat! Go home and put cheese on it there! *manager pushes her biscuit back at her on the counter*
CS1: *fuming* I'm never coming back!
MOD: *stone silent. Very...very scary for this lady.*
Couple of the other back workers crowd around with me.
CW, whispering after the woman leaves.: Hey, MOD...is this the same lady? What's going on?
MOD, involving animated body language: This lady demanded we add cheese to her stuff because 'she forgot.' *manager wiggling fingers around her head to make air quotes* THEN she comes back and says she doesn't want cheese cuz she's allergic. Now she comes back and says she wants some? Screw that s***, I'm not getting sued.
Does it seem like miss manager was a bit rough around the edges? She was fun to watch when she went off
Alas, your poor cheese deity will look down upon his followers and see, with displeasure, one of you trying to eat him!
Cheese Costs Extra?!
The cheese cult was not to be so thwarted by our now annoyed manager. This was one of the few times I manned the front counter. I stayed on the grill and the make line almost the entire time at that store, but sometimes managers felt it a great idea to throw me on the register mid rush.
Because working the grill was great training in speeding through a line of hungry customers!
These two guys come up. The first one orders, pays, then steps aside. He's efficient. I like him.
The second guy comes up and stares at the menu all wide eyed. It was as if the menu was glowing. Well, it was glowing. But it was as if it was...glowing. Shuddup. Anyway, he orders a sausage biscuit, add cheese. If only I'd remembered what I'd already learned of these kind...
Me: Your total is $X.XX.
CS2: ...But on your SIGN, it says $X.YY!
Me: ...well, that's the normal price, but the cheese costs extra.
CS2:
Cheese costs extra?!Me: Yes, s--
CS2: Why didn't you tell me that?! Now I don't have enough money to buy my breakfast! I'm hungry!
Meanwhile, his friend is rolling his eyes, embarrassed, and hands him a quarter with all the body language of, "Shut up, you sack of warts."
CS2: See?! Now <whatever his name was> has to help me pay for this! Do you you think I like having hand outs?
Me:
MOD (same one as above): Sir, cheese costs extra. Now you know.
Their food arrives and they both leave.
MOD, shaking her head, hand on hips: tssh...some guys are just assholes.
When Spellers Get Angry...
Now, onto my favorite part of this job. The headsets! It was a marvelous combination of omniscience and cool. Only the cool kids got to wear the headset, and by The Clam, I was going to be cool. This happened weeks into my summer employment, where I was steadily becoming the clam grill's master! Not quite there yet, but I was challenging its authority. Burnt knuckles no longer phased me.
I would sometimes sneak over to the wall hook and slide on the privileged headset. This miraculous little device would let me listen to the drive thru speaker as the customers order. Hey, it was something to do at 6:30 am. Besides, y'know, slowly be driven insane. Then one morning:
CW (taking drive thru orders, over the speaker): Welcome to our store, how can I help you?
CS3: Yeah, I want a bre--fas- --rrito. *Even without the crackle, the sound of the engine of his car was louder than his voice*
CW: I'm sorry, sir, can you repeat that?
S3: WHAT THE F*** is WRONG with you?! I said I want a BREAKFAST B-U-R-R-I-T-O! Are you stupid?! Do you HEAR me?! I said A B-R-E-A-K-F-A-S-T B-U-R-R-I-T=O! Rabble rabble rabble!
A, B, C, D, E, F, G!
Coworker walks up to the manager and points to the drive thru station. The wordless communication is obvious: "If you don't want to have to explain the body to the cops, you better get your butt back there." Meanwhile, the speller is transforming through the headset. It sounds like he's either charging up a DBZ style attack over the course of several flashback episodes, or he's preparing to void his bowels. Honestly? I'd want to see either one.
MOD clicks the communicate button on her headset and says coolly: "Sir, please drive up to the window."
He does. Enter about thirty seconds of MOD tearing him a new opening. He is not to talk to her workers that way. He's going hungry. She closes it with, "You're not welcome at this store. Don't come back!"
Overcompensation truck peels out and rushes off the property. Damn, I guess it was the bowel void.
Sticker Denied
More of a sucky manager story. At my store, we had to take these little lessons and get tested on them. If we passed, we got a sticker to put on our name tag. They were your bragging rights, just like an old beat up truck or arm candy. That was your status in the social totem pole.
Over the months there, I'd taken almost every test. Gotten almost every sticker. Still have dreams about how the potatoes are chosen to make the fries and how the rejects go to make the hash browns. Don't forget that water, air, and soap are harmful to the fried station! You know, all things that are awesome for you and me. I digress.
I never got my last sticker. The coolest sticker. The sticker with the chicken and the cow, dammit! I passed the test, but the awesome never came. I blame management for my denial into the upper echelon of the store. I fail at stickers
The Haunted Cow
This also isn't a sucky customer story. It is, however, the story of the cow. I don't know the cow's name, and I don't know the cow's story, but what I do know is that she's probably bored.
Remember those headsets? By default, they would transfer noises from the outside of the store. It was a slow time some morning, and it was a manager, myself, and drive thru taker "A" with the headsets. We're sort of shooting the breeze in the store waiting for a customer when i start hearing something over the headset.
Headset: .....moooooooooooOOO (the note raised in urgency at the end, but only for a moment)
Me: *blink, blink* ....hey, manager? A? Did you just hear a cow?
Manager, A: *staring at me with a mixture of fear and pity*
Me, pointing to the headset: Outside. Did you just hear something moo?
Manager, A: *taking a step back*
The Clam is making me hear things. It's psychological warfare. Great. So the days go by without a peep. Once again it's a pretty slow moment before the 7:30 rush, and once again I'm wearing the headset. Of course, The Clam isn't ready to give up that easily!
Headset: MOOOOOOoooooo (this one was stressed in the beginning, then got quieter)
Me, shaking my head, turning to coworker at the line: Okay, I just heard the cow again.
CW: *laughing herself crazy*
A, overhearing: *shaking her head at me, disappointed like*
A: Hey, Bronze is hearing the cow again.
Manager: Bronze, there's no cow.
Me: Yes, there is! It must be a cow...spirit. Is this store built on a graveyard?
Manager: *taking a step back*
It finally culminated a few weeks after. There were three or four people with the headsets: manager, current drive thru (A), cool coworker (G), and me.
Headset: ....mmooooo...
G: I JUST HEARD A COW!
Me: Me too!
*Insert whole store full of laughing employees)
Manager, under her breath: F***
A: Oh God, they're breeding!
CW3: Bronze, don't make me get the strap-on.
(That was an inside joke. Let's just say that I'd probably be violating a few site rules if I tell you about my then-coworkers. As much as I want to. Think the cast of any teen movie, and voila!)
Me: Dammit, G heard it too! You guys need to leave the cow alone!
G: There was a cow! Bronze isn't insane!
A: I give up
The prevalent theory was that some of the bigger engines made a moo-like sound while passing the speaker. I think this was the case for one incident, but for others I *know* there weren't any cars passing. Who knows...maybe the mystery of the cow will never be solved.
C'est bon? C'est bon.
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