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*rubs her face in anguish* (long, a few of em)
So, I've been gone a long time.
For a while, things were awesome at work. People who pissed me off left their jobs, and I never had to wait on a customer. And then these, in order that I remember them.
Kids, and Their Screams
Kid: MOMMY! MOMMY MOMMY!
Mom: What is it, honey?
Kid: I don't WANT the brocolli, you BIIIIITTTTTCCC--- etc.
---
Baby is crying, parents eat their pizza and salad.
Skip 30 min.
Baby is still crying, now in painful tones.
Parents talk on cell phones.
---
I am walking a pizza to a table, when a child darts under my apron. Now is a good time to note that I am 5'4''. Low clearance there >_>
I trip, because the kid was using my ankle to push off into a run, the pizza falls on the floor, the bubbling sauce and cheese splash the kid, the people at my table get up, and the kid's mother starts screaming at me <---took forever for me, but likely only six seconds.
Mom: MY BABY IS BURNED AISKJHDJKHF-
Kid: WHAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!
Me: Augh.. my back...
Mom: -TERROR TO THE WORLD OF YOUNG CHILDREN-
Kid: Mooooommmmmyyyyy!!!
I am Turning you IN
On the phone...
Me: Thank you for calling pizza place, this is Unholy Pet, ho--
Her: I need your fax number to send an order.
Me: I'm afraid not only is there no one here to receive a fex, but we do not accept orders with that method.
Her: I did this every week last year, I KNOW you are lying.
You fibbing farter. I took your order most of those times and the computer says you called with the last seven.
Me: Ma'am, even if we did accept orders through fax, our machine is locked behind a door and only a manager can open it. There are non here at the moment.
Her: Well, is Manager A there?
Me: No, there are no managers here.
Her: Is Manager B there?
Me: There are no managers here.
Her: Is Manager C there?
Me: No. No managers are here at this time.
Her: Then Owner is there. I need to talk to him.
Me: There are no managers nor is Owner here. I am the only one here who can answer the phone, ma'am. Would you like to give me your order, and we can sort it out this way?
Her: No, I need to fax it. This order is too big to tell someone and I don't have time to deal with you.
Me: Well, there won't be a manager here for another 45 min.
Her: Fine, then let me tell you the order.
So I get the info set up and we start.
Her: Grilled chicken salad, and then a--
Me: I'm sorry, I need to know what dressing.
Her: Uh.. one minute.
She comes back.
Her: Ranch.
Me: And how many dressings?
She goes again.
Her: Two.
Me: Okay.
Her: And now an italian sandwich, and then a grill-
Me: What would they like on the italian?
Her: ...bread and meat?
Me: I mean like lettuce, dressing...
Her: *huff* I am going to call you back.
Me: If you would like to leave me on hold, and go ask these people what they would like, I don't mind waiting for you.
Her: No, this is ridiculous. I am going to be talking to Owner about his unruly employess. *click*
She hangs up. Manager comes in at scheduled time, and I explain to him about what's going on, and he starts to lecture me about why I need to explain things to the customers.
I remind him that I did indeed tell the lady why I could not take a fax, and what I needed from her, and how I offered to stay on hold. A co-worker vouched for me.
He ended up taking her order, and haha- she was very receptive to a young man's voice instead of mine.
(that haha was floating in sarcasm, btw)
Well BLIP You, Too.
Two women walk in.
W1: I want the buffet and a drink, how much is it and I want pepperoni pizza and some ranch cups now.
Me: Actually, our buffet ended for lunch about an hour ago, but it starts again at fiv--
W1: Well, f6ck you. We're leaving.
She was old enough to be my grandma.
Grandma, no...
Chicken Melt Man...
CMM is an asshole.
He complains when we bring his sammich too fast, then complains that we took too long, so we just put it to him like normal, and find him stealing cinnamon bread from the buffet. Management does nothing, because he is a "good ol' boy."
CMM sees he is getting away with theft, and so begins eating pizza, salad, and dessert while he waits on his sandwich.
Management does not seem to care.
One day, I guess stupidly, I decide to take his sandwich to him. I place it down, and ask him if he had paid for the cheese sticks and pizza he had, and that I was sorry, I didn't see it on his ticket, then showed it to him.
He laughs in my face, mouth full of sauce, which splattered all over my apron and arms. Management did nothing.
Dicks.
For a while, things were awesome at work. People who pissed me off left their jobs, and I never had to wait on a customer. And then these, in order that I remember them.
Kids, and Their Screams
Kid: MOMMY! MOMMY MOMMY!
Mom: What is it, honey?
Kid: I don't WANT the brocolli, you BIIIIITTTTTCCC--- etc.
---
Baby is crying, parents eat their pizza and salad.
Skip 30 min.
Baby is still crying, now in painful tones.
Parents talk on cell phones.
---
I am walking a pizza to a table, when a child darts under my apron. Now is a good time to note that I am 5'4''. Low clearance there >_>
I trip, because the kid was using my ankle to push off into a run, the pizza falls on the floor, the bubbling sauce and cheese splash the kid, the people at my table get up, and the kid's mother starts screaming at me <---took forever for me, but likely only six seconds.
Mom: MY BABY IS BURNED AISKJHDJKHF-
Kid: WHAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!
Me: Augh.. my back...
Mom: -TERROR TO THE WORLD OF YOUNG CHILDREN-
Kid: Mooooommmmmyyyyy!!!
I am Turning you IN
On the phone...
Me: Thank you for calling pizza place, this is Unholy Pet, ho--
Her: I need your fax number to send an order.
Me: I'm afraid not only is there no one here to receive a fex, but we do not accept orders with that method.
Her: I did this every week last year, I KNOW you are lying.
You fibbing farter. I took your order most of those times and the computer says you called with the last seven.
Me: Ma'am, even if we did accept orders through fax, our machine is locked behind a door and only a manager can open it. There are non here at the moment.
Her: Well, is Manager A there?
Me: No, there are no managers here.
Her: Is Manager B there?
Me: There are no managers here.
Her: Is Manager C there?
Me: No. No managers are here at this time.
Her: Then Owner is there. I need to talk to him.
Me: There are no managers nor is Owner here. I am the only one here who can answer the phone, ma'am. Would you like to give me your order, and we can sort it out this way?
Her: No, I need to fax it. This order is too big to tell someone and I don't have time to deal with you.
Me: Well, there won't be a manager here for another 45 min.
Her: Fine, then let me tell you the order.
So I get the info set up and we start.
Her: Grilled chicken salad, and then a--
Me: I'm sorry, I need to know what dressing.
Her: Uh.. one minute.
She comes back.
Her: Ranch.
Me: And how many dressings?
She goes again.
Her: Two.
Me: Okay.
Her: And now an italian sandwich, and then a grill-
Me: What would they like on the italian?
Her: ...bread and meat?
Me: I mean like lettuce, dressing...
Her: *huff* I am going to call you back.
Me: If you would like to leave me on hold, and go ask these people what they would like, I don't mind waiting for you.
Her: No, this is ridiculous. I am going to be talking to Owner about his unruly employess. *click*
She hangs up. Manager comes in at scheduled time, and I explain to him about what's going on, and he starts to lecture me about why I need to explain things to the customers.
I remind him that I did indeed tell the lady why I could not take a fax, and what I needed from her, and how I offered to stay on hold. A co-worker vouched for me.
He ended up taking her order, and haha- she was very receptive to a young man's voice instead of mine.
(that haha was floating in sarcasm, btw)
Well BLIP You, Too.
Two women walk in.
W1: I want the buffet and a drink, how much is it and I want pepperoni pizza and some ranch cups now.
Me: Actually, our buffet ended for lunch about an hour ago, but it starts again at fiv--
W1: Well, f6ck you. We're leaving.
She was old enough to be my grandma.
Grandma, no...
Chicken Melt Man...
CMM is an asshole.
He complains when we bring his sammich too fast, then complains that we took too long, so we just put it to him like normal, and find him stealing cinnamon bread from the buffet. Management does nothing, because he is a "good ol' boy."
CMM sees he is getting away with theft, and so begins eating pizza, salad, and dessert while he waits on his sandwich.
Management does not seem to care.
One day, I guess stupidly, I decide to take his sandwich to him. I place it down, and ask him if he had paid for the cheese sticks and pizza he had, and that I was sorry, I didn't see it on his ticket, then showed it to him.
He laughs in my face, mouth full of sauce, which splattered all over my apron and arms. Management did nothing.
Dicks.
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