I really am liking being locked away in the kitchen away from the customers. I get to play music as loud as I want, say what I want, and be as bitchy as I want.
Today Is Wednesday, Not Sunday
I dealt with this customer a couple of times when I was the bar manager. Basically, she would always come in either on a Tuesday or a Wednesday, during the dinner rush, and ask for one of our Sunday roasts. She would always be told no, but then would go into full on whiny mode "But you alwaaaaaayys do it for meeeeee". Other managers caved into her, but I never did.
A new co-worker walks into the kitchen as I am rushing about.
CW: How would you feel about making a Sunday roast?
Me: I would be very fucking pissed off.
CW: Oh...
Me: Why?
CW: I've got a lady out there asking for one, she says we always cook her one.
Me: Oh, I know who you are talking about. Middle aged woman, curly hair, wears a business suit?
CW: Yeah that's her.
Me: Yeah, tell her to fuck off...politely.
CW: I'll tell her no then.
New co-worker walked away. He returned a minute later.
CW: Oh my God, I have never heard a grown woman whine like that! "But I alwaaaaays get iiiiiiittt!"
Me: Yeah, I knew that would happen. I've dealt with her a couple of times.
CW: Why can't we do a dinner by the way?
Me: Because it's the dinner rush, we're very busy in here, and to make her a Sunday roast would mean opening a fresh joint of beef, opening fresh potatoes, peeling carrots, cutting broccoli, cooking them, making gravy and making fresh Yorkshire puddings. All in all, it's more than half an hours work, easy. We're prepared for it on a Sunday, but today is Wednesday, and every other person in the pub has ordered burgers or sandwiches.
CW: Right, I know what to tell her next time.
Glare at me all you want
I had just finished. The kitchen was closed and my bus was due in less than ten minutes. I literally ran out the kitchen towards the back room.
CW: Oh, are you leaving?
Me: Well the kitchen is closed now, so yeah!
CW: Oh, I've got a customer who wants food.
A very stern looking man glared at me.
Me: Well, sorry, but I've turned everything off, the kitchen's closed, and I've got to go right away.
CW: Oh...
SC: But I wanted to order four meals!
Me: Well, it does say quite clearly on the menus when the kitchen closes, and it's well past that time now.
I ran towards the back room again. The SC's head followed me, giving me death looks. Two minutes later, I ran out. I had to walk past his table to leave, and was greeted with dirty looks from the whole table.
Today Is Wednesday, Not Sunday
I dealt with this customer a couple of times when I was the bar manager. Basically, she would always come in either on a Tuesday or a Wednesday, during the dinner rush, and ask for one of our Sunday roasts. She would always be told no, but then would go into full on whiny mode "But you alwaaaaaayys do it for meeeeee". Other managers caved into her, but I never did.
A new co-worker walks into the kitchen as I am rushing about.
CW: How would you feel about making a Sunday roast?
Me: I would be very fucking pissed off.
CW: Oh...
Me: Why?
CW: I've got a lady out there asking for one, she says we always cook her one.
Me: Oh, I know who you are talking about. Middle aged woman, curly hair, wears a business suit?
CW: Yeah that's her.
Me: Yeah, tell her to fuck off...politely.
CW: I'll tell her no then.
New co-worker walked away. He returned a minute later.
CW: Oh my God, I have never heard a grown woman whine like that! "But I alwaaaaays get iiiiiiittt!"
Me: Yeah, I knew that would happen. I've dealt with her a couple of times.
CW: Why can't we do a dinner by the way?
Me: Because it's the dinner rush, we're very busy in here, and to make her a Sunday roast would mean opening a fresh joint of beef, opening fresh potatoes, peeling carrots, cutting broccoli, cooking them, making gravy and making fresh Yorkshire puddings. All in all, it's more than half an hours work, easy. We're prepared for it on a Sunday, but today is Wednesday, and every other person in the pub has ordered burgers or sandwiches.
CW: Right, I know what to tell her next time.
Glare at me all you want
I had just finished. The kitchen was closed and my bus was due in less than ten minutes. I literally ran out the kitchen towards the back room.
CW: Oh, are you leaving?
Me: Well the kitchen is closed now, so yeah!
CW: Oh, I've got a customer who wants food.
A very stern looking man glared at me.
Me: Well, sorry, but I've turned everything off, the kitchen's closed, and I've got to go right away.
CW: Oh...
SC: But I wanted to order four meals!
Me: Well, it does say quite clearly on the menus when the kitchen closes, and it's well past that time now.
I ran towards the back room again. The SC's head followed me, giving me death looks. Two minutes later, I ran out. I had to walk past his table to leave, and was greeted with dirty looks from the whole table.
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