I had hoped that this weekend would be relatively quiet, what with Monday off and all the students going home. This was not the case. I swear, if I hadn't been studying moon phases for class and already known that the full moon has passed already, I'd have blamed the weekend on that.
Good thing I have Monday off too.
FRIDAY
They stuck me on the hot line because whoever's supposed to be there hasn't been, and this is the second weekend in a row now. I hate the line. And we were plating tonight. I hate plating.
For the new folks who have no clue what I'm talking about, plated meals are when we take a meat item, a carb, a garnish, and one other side and combine em on a plate in a perfectly portioned meal. We also have other hot items down the buffet line to pick from if you don't want the main plated dish.
Proof They Read Signs, Part Deux
Our checker's supposed to pull down the signs showing off the lunch offerings and replace them with the dinner ones before the gate goes up. She missed one that advertised vegan burritos. So of course students read those signs, go "ooh! vegan burritos!" and come over to the entree line expecting them. They're not there.
I'd explain they were from lunch and the checker forgot to take them down, and some walked off with an "Oh". Not this one chick.
SC: But there's supposed to be vegan burritos!
Me:Those were offered at lunch today. Our checker forgot to pull the sign showing them. I'm sorry.
SC: So there's no burritos?
Me:* uh...were you listening?* No, sorry.
SC: Can't you make some?
Me: I have neither the means nor the know-how to do so, sorry (true).
SC: Yes you can, you just won't.
Me: no...I'm not a chef, I don't cook anything down here.
SC: not true, you're in the deli all the time.
Me: Sandwiches aren't things you cook (most times).
SC: So you're not getting my burritos?
Me: I can't. There are none.
Lather, rinse repeat. 5 times over. With variations. Same answers. I needed Excedrin after that one. Thank you, Dude J.
TMI
I had a student ask me for corn starch. Just some corn starch in a sauce cup he could take back to his room because "it hurts to walk right now, things are rubbing."
Uhm. Thanks. Didn't need to know that. P.S.: Get Tough Actin' Tinactin.TM
You Say Potato....
This incident left me seething for the rest of the night. One of the big rules here is when we're plating, it's all or nothing. Meaning you either get the entree dish, or get something else. I can't dole out any part of the dish on it's own. The cooks in back get angry if I do, because they never make enough to allow that, and Dude J typically frowns upon it.
However, the ASM ( a kid a couple years older than me we'll call N) and one of the cooks tell me it's okay to give out parts. "Think of the customer," they say, and most times I'd like to. But if the other cooks catch me doing so, they get me. If I don't the other group gets me. It's a catch 22.
So this particular night was a beef tip saute with mushrooms and onions, served on a bed of mashed potatoes with home style gravy. For those not getting the entree we set out fiesta lime chicken and citrus rice.
I'd have students asking me if I could give them a scoop of mashed potatoes, and I'd have to tell them sorry and point them in the direction of the rice. An hour later I double-checked with N about the potatoes and he said to go ahead and dole them out, it's slow because most people went home for the weekend. So I did.
M, one of the cooks, came out and saw me doing that, and basically tore me a new anal pore. So it was back to saying no all over again. Around 6:10 this girl comes down and asks for just a plate of the potatoes, resulting in my spiel about how I can't and that I have to save what's left for the now quickly being devoured entree.
"That's not right," she whines, "I ALWAYS get potatoes from here."
I tell her again that I'm sorry but I can't, so she growls "That's not good enough" and storms off. A few seconds later she's marching back with C, a head float. Think Mart of Wal greeter without the smiley stickers and that's C. Awesome guy, really. One of my bestest buddies.
He tells me she's complaining about me, and I explain the situation to him. He knows how there's always a miscommunication between the two groups, so he heads into the kitchen to duke it out with M. He tells the girl just to wait a minute, but she bites back "Never mind, I'm not hungry anymore" and stomps off.
Two minutes later Cook J (the nice one who's basically my big black teddy bear) gives me the go ahead, they've got five pans of potatoes they want cleared out so they don't have to chuck em. Potato Pansy's gone, but we can see her talking animatedly to her gaggle of friends about the mean cafeteria people.
I take one of the plates I was using for the entree and heaped two scoopfuls of potatoes on it, and C took it over to her. She didn't want it, after all the whining and sniveling she did about us being unfair. C came back over with the rejected spuds, shaking his head. He's about as baffled as I am.
He ended up wrapping them up with some chicken to take home for his own dinner, but not before telling me not to give her any more if she stomps back over to change her mind. She never did (much to my dismay, I needed to deliver some pwnage).
Seriously? You just wanted to kick up some dust to try and put me in my place? Nice try. You fail.
Dude J told me he'd back me up in case she decides to cause a stir. So did C and cook J. I love 'em all. I really do.
SATURDAY
Since it was so slow, I kinda floated around but hovered near the deli. Deli was self serve tonight. Speaking of which...
I Gotta Do It?
It was pretty funny to see the students get this deer in headlights look when they realized the deli was self serve. I had some who would see me straightening things up and stand at the counter waiting for me to come over and make them something, completely oblivious to the fact the breads were turned around to face them and there were tongs in everything.
What was even better was I could just ignore them and walk around until dawn broke on Marblehead.
Out!Out!Out! part 1
I had to chase a student out of the deli tonight. Kid decided he didn't like the oranges in the basket, so he figured he'd step behind the counter and help himself to the box of oranges. I spotted him after turning around from putting knives away.
Me: Excuse me, you can't be back here.
SC:*jumps*
Me: Get out.
SC: I don't like the oranges in the basket. I want these ones.
Me: You still can't be back here. This is employees only. Out.
SC:*ignoring my order* How often do you change the fruit?
Me: I put those out there less than an hour ago. Out.
SC:*still digging in the box*
That does it. Three, no, four strikes you're out. I come over and closed the box lid with his orange filled hands inside. He can't get them out. N's nearby, watching the whole scene with great amusement.
SC: What'd you do that for?
Me: You won't get out, then you won't get the oranges.
SC: You can't do this to me.
Me: I just did.
SC: Let me go.
Me: Let my fruits go.
He lets them slip from his hands back into the box, and I slowly let him go.
SC: I can't believe you trapped me in a box.
Me: I can't believe you're an arrogant brat.
N's giggling nearby. He loves when this stuff happens. He's trying to learn from me.
SC: I'm telling your boss, and you'll get fired.
N: No she won't. I told her to do that.
SC: To trap my hands in the box?
N: It's more humane than the deli slicer. Cleaner too.
Kid settles for the fresh oranges in the basket and sulks off. N finds a table cloth to cover the boxes of fruit so the other kids aren't tempted to trespass as well.
Contains a Nut
While the checker missJ was cleaning tables she stole the sign for the desserts that states whether something contains nuts and clipped it to the back of my coat.
I warned her that next time I'd clip it to her pants if she pulled that stunt again.
N Needs Sleep
I'm filling our napkin dispensers when I hear this obnoxious "WAKAWAKAWAKA" noise coming at me. N's coming at me with a large, Pacman-esque box. I grab the tablecloth we were using to hide fruit, put it on and run away.
N only ever gets like that if he's running on 6< hours of sleep.
SUNDAY
Floated again though I primarily stayed in the deli. We only had 197 students show up. That's way less than a typical Saturday.
Out!Out!Out! part Deux
Boss S leaves the gate to the commuter cafe open halfway so we food slaves can sneak in the back way to get to the time clock. I was going under when I keep hear a faint "Excuse me" behind me. I thought nothing of it until I started to round a corner and saw a woman in her mid-forties standing in the dark, obviously closed ComCaf. Staring at me. She followed me into an off-limit area. What did she need so badly that she desperately needed to stalk me into restricted regions?
A plastic fork. For a carryout meal she trekked in.
I wouldn't give it to her until she got out of there. She couldn't understand why she couldn't be in there.
Uh....let's see...unlocked coolers, stuff still out on display....how do I know you're not going to try to waltz out of here with free food?
We're Not Bored. Really.
Dishroom likes to play really loud, really bouncy dance music to keep them going while they scrub a dub the dishes.
Helps keep us going, too, as we entertained who cared to join us for dinner with very sloppily done dance offs, general get-downs, and one very rowdy rendition of YMCA.
No Youtube video, sorry. I wish someone got it. It was fun. Even more fun when the Ghostbusters song came on, and the Steves and I did the goofy walk dance from the end credits of the cartoon.
It's Apprezirra!
(applezilla, is the translation for the above statement).
I went downstairs to try and find more Granny Smith apples in the cooler. I thought I grabbed the right ones until I brought them back up. They were green, all right. They were also at least the size of a grapefruit. These things could kill if you chucked them at somebody's head.
So we've called them Applezillas. Which led to very immature puppet shows with the tinier apples running away from the behemoths.
You're Better Than My Mom
This was told to me by a student who was visibly upset that I wouldn't be making Sandwiches o Doom today. I was flattered at first, since I didn't think I was that popular a food slave down here. Until:
"You do them better than my mom."
Dude, that's nice, but...my gutter mind put that in the wrong context.
Oh well. Next time sweetums you'll get your speshul sandwich o doom. Don't forget to brush your teeth, shower, and give those underpants a wash. Mummy wuvs you.
and done.
Good thing I have Monday off too.
FRIDAY
They stuck me on the hot line because whoever's supposed to be there hasn't been, and this is the second weekend in a row now. I hate the line. And we were plating tonight. I hate plating.
For the new folks who have no clue what I'm talking about, plated meals are when we take a meat item, a carb, a garnish, and one other side and combine em on a plate in a perfectly portioned meal. We also have other hot items down the buffet line to pick from if you don't want the main plated dish.
Proof They Read Signs, Part Deux
Our checker's supposed to pull down the signs showing off the lunch offerings and replace them with the dinner ones before the gate goes up. She missed one that advertised vegan burritos. So of course students read those signs, go "ooh! vegan burritos!" and come over to the entree line expecting them. They're not there.
I'd explain they were from lunch and the checker forgot to take them down, and some walked off with an "Oh". Not this one chick.
SC: But there's supposed to be vegan burritos!
Me:Those were offered at lunch today. Our checker forgot to pull the sign showing them. I'm sorry.
SC: So there's no burritos?
Me:* uh...were you listening?* No, sorry.
SC: Can't you make some?
Me: I have neither the means nor the know-how to do so, sorry (true).
SC: Yes you can, you just won't.
Me: no...I'm not a chef, I don't cook anything down here.
SC: not true, you're in the deli all the time.
Me: Sandwiches aren't things you cook (most times).
SC: So you're not getting my burritos?
Me: I can't. There are none.
Lather, rinse repeat. 5 times over. With variations. Same answers. I needed Excedrin after that one. Thank you, Dude J.
TMI
I had a student ask me for corn starch. Just some corn starch in a sauce cup he could take back to his room because "it hurts to walk right now, things are rubbing."
Uhm. Thanks. Didn't need to know that. P.S.: Get Tough Actin' Tinactin.TM
You Say Potato....
This incident left me seething for the rest of the night. One of the big rules here is when we're plating, it's all or nothing. Meaning you either get the entree dish, or get something else. I can't dole out any part of the dish on it's own. The cooks in back get angry if I do, because they never make enough to allow that, and Dude J typically frowns upon it.
However, the ASM ( a kid a couple years older than me we'll call N) and one of the cooks tell me it's okay to give out parts. "Think of the customer," they say, and most times I'd like to. But if the other cooks catch me doing so, they get me. If I don't the other group gets me. It's a catch 22.
So this particular night was a beef tip saute with mushrooms and onions, served on a bed of mashed potatoes with home style gravy. For those not getting the entree we set out fiesta lime chicken and citrus rice.
I'd have students asking me if I could give them a scoop of mashed potatoes, and I'd have to tell them sorry and point them in the direction of the rice. An hour later I double-checked with N about the potatoes and he said to go ahead and dole them out, it's slow because most people went home for the weekend. So I did.
M, one of the cooks, came out and saw me doing that, and basically tore me a new anal pore. So it was back to saying no all over again. Around 6:10 this girl comes down and asks for just a plate of the potatoes, resulting in my spiel about how I can't and that I have to save what's left for the now quickly being devoured entree.
"That's not right," she whines, "I ALWAYS get potatoes from here."
I tell her again that I'm sorry but I can't, so she growls "That's not good enough" and storms off. A few seconds later she's marching back with C, a head float. Think Mart of Wal greeter without the smiley stickers and that's C. Awesome guy, really. One of my bestest buddies.
He tells me she's complaining about me, and I explain the situation to him. He knows how there's always a miscommunication between the two groups, so he heads into the kitchen to duke it out with M. He tells the girl just to wait a minute, but she bites back "Never mind, I'm not hungry anymore" and stomps off.
Two minutes later Cook J (the nice one who's basically my big black teddy bear) gives me the go ahead, they've got five pans of potatoes they want cleared out so they don't have to chuck em. Potato Pansy's gone, but we can see her talking animatedly to her gaggle of friends about the mean cafeteria people.
I take one of the plates I was using for the entree and heaped two scoopfuls of potatoes on it, and C took it over to her. She didn't want it, after all the whining and sniveling she did about us being unfair. C came back over with the rejected spuds, shaking his head. He's about as baffled as I am.
He ended up wrapping them up with some chicken to take home for his own dinner, but not before telling me not to give her any more if she stomps back over to change her mind. She never did (much to my dismay, I needed to deliver some pwnage).
Seriously? You just wanted to kick up some dust to try and put me in my place? Nice try. You fail.
Dude J told me he'd back me up in case she decides to cause a stir. So did C and cook J. I love 'em all. I really do.
SATURDAY
Since it was so slow, I kinda floated around but hovered near the deli. Deli was self serve tonight. Speaking of which...
I Gotta Do It?
It was pretty funny to see the students get this deer in headlights look when they realized the deli was self serve. I had some who would see me straightening things up and stand at the counter waiting for me to come over and make them something, completely oblivious to the fact the breads were turned around to face them and there were tongs in everything.
What was even better was I could just ignore them and walk around until dawn broke on Marblehead.
Out!Out!Out! part 1
I had to chase a student out of the deli tonight. Kid decided he didn't like the oranges in the basket, so he figured he'd step behind the counter and help himself to the box of oranges. I spotted him after turning around from putting knives away.
Me: Excuse me, you can't be back here.
SC:*jumps*
Me: Get out.
SC: I don't like the oranges in the basket. I want these ones.
Me: You still can't be back here. This is employees only. Out.
SC:*ignoring my order* How often do you change the fruit?
Me: I put those out there less than an hour ago. Out.
SC:*still digging in the box*
That does it. Three, no, four strikes you're out. I come over and closed the box lid with his orange filled hands inside. He can't get them out. N's nearby, watching the whole scene with great amusement.
SC: What'd you do that for?
Me: You won't get out, then you won't get the oranges.
SC: You can't do this to me.
Me: I just did.
SC: Let me go.
Me: Let my fruits go.
He lets them slip from his hands back into the box, and I slowly let him go.
SC: I can't believe you trapped me in a box.
Me: I can't believe you're an arrogant brat.
N's giggling nearby. He loves when this stuff happens. He's trying to learn from me.
SC: I'm telling your boss, and you'll get fired.
N: No she won't. I told her to do that.
SC: To trap my hands in the box?
N: It's more humane than the deli slicer. Cleaner too.
Kid settles for the fresh oranges in the basket and sulks off. N finds a table cloth to cover the boxes of fruit so the other kids aren't tempted to trespass as well.
Contains a Nut
While the checker missJ was cleaning tables she stole the sign for the desserts that states whether something contains nuts and clipped it to the back of my coat.
I warned her that next time I'd clip it to her pants if she pulled that stunt again.
N Needs Sleep
I'm filling our napkin dispensers when I hear this obnoxious "WAKAWAKAWAKA" noise coming at me. N's coming at me with a large, Pacman-esque box. I grab the tablecloth we were using to hide fruit, put it on and run away.
N only ever gets like that if he's running on 6< hours of sleep.
SUNDAY
Floated again though I primarily stayed in the deli. We only had 197 students show up. That's way less than a typical Saturday.
Out!Out!Out! part Deux
Boss S leaves the gate to the commuter cafe open halfway so we food slaves can sneak in the back way to get to the time clock. I was going under when I keep hear a faint "Excuse me" behind me. I thought nothing of it until I started to round a corner and saw a woman in her mid-forties standing in the dark, obviously closed ComCaf. Staring at me. She followed me into an off-limit area. What did she need so badly that she desperately needed to stalk me into restricted regions?
A plastic fork. For a carryout meal she trekked in.
I wouldn't give it to her until she got out of there. She couldn't understand why she couldn't be in there.
Uh....let's see...unlocked coolers, stuff still out on display....how do I know you're not going to try to waltz out of here with free food?
We're Not Bored. Really.
Dishroom likes to play really loud, really bouncy dance music to keep them going while they scrub a dub the dishes.
Helps keep us going, too, as we entertained who cared to join us for dinner with very sloppily done dance offs, general get-downs, and one very rowdy rendition of YMCA.
No Youtube video, sorry. I wish someone got it. It was fun. Even more fun when the Ghostbusters song came on, and the Steves and I did the goofy walk dance from the end credits of the cartoon.
It's Apprezirra!
(applezilla, is the translation for the above statement).
I went downstairs to try and find more Granny Smith apples in the cooler. I thought I grabbed the right ones until I brought them back up. They were green, all right. They were also at least the size of a grapefruit. These things could kill if you chucked them at somebody's head.
So we've called them Applezillas. Which led to very immature puppet shows with the tinier apples running away from the behemoths.
You're Better Than My Mom
This was told to me by a student who was visibly upset that I wouldn't be making Sandwiches o Doom today. I was flattered at first, since I didn't think I was that popular a food slave down here. Until:
"You do them better than my mom."
Dude, that's nice, but...my gutter mind put that in the wrong context.
Oh well. Next time sweetums you'll get your speshul sandwich o doom. Don't forget to brush your teeth, shower, and give those underpants a wash. Mummy wuvs you.
and done.
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