For all my Working Peeps!!!
Blah, seems that all I do is rant on here...oh, well...there are more unhealthy outlets I suppose...
Anyway, this was originally intended for MySpace(it stole my soul), but I wanted to show it to some of my friends that aren't on there, so enjoy this HORRIBLY written, but meant to be funny story of my day at work!
I have an issue with lazy people....
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So, wanna hear me rant about how fucking lazy the consumer public is?
No? Too bad! Anyway, all my working whores will relate to this! Especially if you work in the fast food business!!
Okay, I work at a little pizza joint up in Mandarin called Renna's Pizza. It's real cool in all, ya know, the people I work with and everything. Management is pretty cool and laid back, but we still work our butts off. Anyway, if you're not sure what a pizzeria is, let me clue you in: IT IS NOT A RESTAURANT. In other words, if that isn't too clear: we do not wait on you, we do not clean up after you (except for wiping down tables/you're old), we do not go by and ask how you're doing unless we feel like it, we are not a fast food joint, we have other customers that do come first, you aren't always right, you're in a New York based franchise. See, we even have two tubs on a cart where you can put your trays and dishes and a trashcan only 5 feet away where you can dump your trash. Actually, hell, we have ONE MORE trash can right before you leave.
And still people find ways to amaze me with their laziness. Now don't get me wrong: if you're old and it is hard for you to walk, we'll gladly drop on by and offer to help you out. Ya know?
But lately it seems that more and more people are leaving everything on their table. The tray, dishes (full of soggy pasta or salad), and maybe even a few whole perfectly good slices of pizza. Now, sure, it's cool the first couple of times, but when everyone starts to copy this group of people...I freak out.
See, it's a vicious cycle: a group of people are lazy and leave EVERYTHING on their table. Since it's a packed house, I rush to clean it up and empty all their trash for them (in the most annoyed manner I possibly can) and I slowly start to notice eyes on me. At first, I think nothing of it. I go behind the counter and throw my rag back into the bleach bucket and run into the back to wash my hands clean before grabbing the ringing phone.
Then I see it. Two more tables left with trash piled onto the tray. Hell, maybe another with the trash laying all about, as if a gang of monkeys had decided to fling their shit all over the booth only here: the shit was napkins dripping with tomato sauce!! Of course, my partner is busy helping another rude customer who feels a nagging need to point out how our prices have changed almost 3 months ago, so I’m left having to grab the poor, wet rag from the bleach bucket and hurry to the tables.
But, what is this? A tray holding three perfectly fine pizza slices? Oh, no, they couldn’t have possibly wanted to waste this food? Not when there are children in Africa dying from malnutrition as we speak? I shake my head, murmuring about poor children in Africa as I grab the tray and reach for the drinks they had left behind. My hand is surprised. Why? Because the cup is full, topped off, as if ready to set sail with its family into the hot sun and be drunk from all day. But no, it is a waste.
I angrily pour the remains of the lunch into the trashcan and turn around to survey the dining room. My eyes fall upon the other trashcan. The one that is the farthest from the cart which holds the dirty trays and dishes. It is overflowing with the trash. I blink a few times thinking to myself, “No, nobody could be so stupid as to try and stuff their trash into a trashcan that is obviously incapable of holding said trash…they would surely take the time to walk 10 steps to the other trashcan, right?” I turn around to make sure the trashcan behind me isn’t overflowing as well. Sure enough, it is only halfway full.
Motherfucker…
I make my way over to the offensive trashcan only to notice another oddity: a dirty tray…propped up against THE TRASHCAN. My mind suddenly falls into a state of completely retardation for it can not comprehend what it is seeing. There is a tray…yes…a tray…it is…propped up, on the ground, against this trashcan, which is so obviously overflowing with trash…. there is a trashcan and cart right behind me…both of which could have easily prevented this state of complete stupidity…
And then I snap. I pull off the damned top to the trashcan and punch the disgusting trash downward into the cylinder. I curse under my breath and make it blatantly obvious that you DO NOT DO THAT. I then heave the trashcan all the way to the back and slowly pull the bag from it, plopping it onto the ground and tying the top. “Can’t get any worse than this, right?” WRONG. I lift up the bag and open the back door to go throw it out, but my so far dead mind jumps back to life when it makes the unmistakable discovery that something wet is dripping down my leg. Once again: motherfucker. There is a hole-a damn hole-in the bag and right where that hole is…there is-DUH DUH DUH- drink! Ah, yes, the soda tried to escape onto my pants! I throw the bag into the large trashcan out back and walk back inside saying “Fuck” again and again rather loudly (but not loud enough for the patrons to hear up front). My boss sits idly by not caring as I huff and puff all the way back up front. I then decide that this is far worse than my obsession last night. You see, I had just gotten in for work when I walked by the cart that holds the tubs and in one of those tubs was not a tray nor a dish…but trash…disposable trash…trash that goes INTO a trashcan…trash that was sitting in a tub on a carton right next to a trashcan! My mind had a seizure when I saw that.
Besides people not cleaning up after themselves, saying thank you, and wasting food, there are only a few other things that get to me. One of which involves the phone. Now, there is this silly little thing I like to call tax. You see, tax is this thing that adds a few more cents to your total, not much, but it does. Usually, though, people don’t care because depending on how much you get, tax rises. Well, sometimes when people call in to place an order, they like to ask how much it will be, which I guess is typical enough. I tell them how much it will be without tax since figuring out tax would involve me messing with the cash register and wasting paper. Well, sometimes people want tax added and are rude fuckers about it! Also, never tell people that there is a one-dollar delivery fee. Oh, no! Because one damn fucking dollar is going to seriously damage your wallet when you’re ordering from a place that requires a $10 minimum for deliveries!!! What tops all that is when people call in before 5pm(when we take deliveries) and ask to place a delivery order. When you try to explain to them that we can’t deliver until 5pm, they’ll ask “well why can’t you go ahead and take it now” BECAUSE IT DOESN’T MATTER YOU IDIOT!!!
Bah…that’s all I got for now…anyone else want to share their work horror stories? It’s always fun!!!
Anyway, this was originally intended for MySpace(it stole my soul), but I wanted to show it to some of my friends that aren't on there, so enjoy this HORRIBLY written, but meant to be funny story of my day at work!
I have an issue with lazy people....
-------------------------------------------------------
So, wanna hear me rant about how fucking lazy the consumer public is?
No? Too bad! Anyway, all my working whores will relate to this! Especially if you work in the fast food business!!
Okay, I work at a little pizza joint up in Mandarin called Renna's Pizza. It's real cool in all, ya know, the people I work with and everything. Management is pretty cool and laid back, but we still work our butts off. Anyway, if you're not sure what a pizzeria is, let me clue you in: IT IS NOT A RESTAURANT. In other words, if that isn't too clear: we do not wait on you, we do not clean up after you (except for wiping down tables/you're old), we do not go by and ask how you're doing unless we feel like it, we are not a fast food joint, we have other customers that do come first, you aren't always right, you're in a New York based franchise. See, we even have two tubs on a cart where you can put your trays and dishes and a trashcan only 5 feet away where you can dump your trash. Actually, hell, we have ONE MORE trash can right before you leave.
And still people find ways to amaze me with their laziness. Now don't get me wrong: if you're old and it is hard for you to walk, we'll gladly drop on by and offer to help you out. Ya know?
But lately it seems that more and more people are leaving everything on their table. The tray, dishes (full of soggy pasta or salad), and maybe even a few whole perfectly good slices of pizza. Now, sure, it's cool the first couple of times, but when everyone starts to copy this group of people...I freak out.
See, it's a vicious cycle: a group of people are lazy and leave EVERYTHING on their table. Since it's a packed house, I rush to clean it up and empty all their trash for them (in the most annoyed manner I possibly can) and I slowly start to notice eyes on me. At first, I think nothing of it. I go behind the counter and throw my rag back into the bleach bucket and run into the back to wash my hands clean before grabbing the ringing phone.
Then I see it. Two more tables left with trash piled onto the tray. Hell, maybe another with the trash laying all about, as if a gang of monkeys had decided to fling their shit all over the booth only here: the shit was napkins dripping with tomato sauce!! Of course, my partner is busy helping another rude customer who feels a nagging need to point out how our prices have changed almost 3 months ago, so I’m left having to grab the poor, wet rag from the bleach bucket and hurry to the tables.
But, what is this? A tray holding three perfectly fine pizza slices? Oh, no, they couldn’t have possibly wanted to waste this food? Not when there are children in Africa dying from malnutrition as we speak? I shake my head, murmuring about poor children in Africa as I grab the tray and reach for the drinks they had left behind. My hand is surprised. Why? Because the cup is full, topped off, as if ready to set sail with its family into the hot sun and be drunk from all day. But no, it is a waste.
I angrily pour the remains of the lunch into the trashcan and turn around to survey the dining room. My eyes fall upon the other trashcan. The one that is the farthest from the cart which holds the dirty trays and dishes. It is overflowing with the trash. I blink a few times thinking to myself, “No, nobody could be so stupid as to try and stuff their trash into a trashcan that is obviously incapable of holding said trash…they would surely take the time to walk 10 steps to the other trashcan, right?” I turn around to make sure the trashcan behind me isn’t overflowing as well. Sure enough, it is only halfway full.
Motherfucker…
I make my way over to the offensive trashcan only to notice another oddity: a dirty tray…propped up against THE TRASHCAN. My mind suddenly falls into a state of completely retardation for it can not comprehend what it is seeing. There is a tray…yes…a tray…it is…propped up, on the ground, against this trashcan, which is so obviously overflowing with trash…. there is a trashcan and cart right behind me…both of which could have easily prevented this state of complete stupidity…
And then I snap. I pull off the damned top to the trashcan and punch the disgusting trash downward into the cylinder. I curse under my breath and make it blatantly obvious that you DO NOT DO THAT. I then heave the trashcan all the way to the back and slowly pull the bag from it, plopping it onto the ground and tying the top. “Can’t get any worse than this, right?” WRONG. I lift up the bag and open the back door to go throw it out, but my so far dead mind jumps back to life when it makes the unmistakable discovery that something wet is dripping down my leg. Once again: motherfucker. There is a hole-a damn hole-in the bag and right where that hole is…there is-DUH DUH DUH- drink! Ah, yes, the soda tried to escape onto my pants! I throw the bag into the large trashcan out back and walk back inside saying “Fuck” again and again rather loudly (but not loud enough for the patrons to hear up front). My boss sits idly by not caring as I huff and puff all the way back up front. I then decide that this is far worse than my obsession last night. You see, I had just gotten in for work when I walked by the cart that holds the tubs and in one of those tubs was not a tray nor a dish…but trash…disposable trash…trash that goes INTO a trashcan…trash that was sitting in a tub on a carton right next to a trashcan! My mind had a seizure when I saw that.
Besides people not cleaning up after themselves, saying thank you, and wasting food, there are only a few other things that get to me. One of which involves the phone. Now, there is this silly little thing I like to call tax. You see, tax is this thing that adds a few more cents to your total, not much, but it does. Usually, though, people don’t care because depending on how much you get, tax rises. Well, sometimes when people call in to place an order, they like to ask how much it will be, which I guess is typical enough. I tell them how much it will be without tax since figuring out tax would involve me messing with the cash register and wasting paper. Well, sometimes people want tax added and are rude fuckers about it! Also, never tell people that there is a one-dollar delivery fee. Oh, no! Because one damn fucking dollar is going to seriously damage your wallet when you’re ordering from a place that requires a $10 minimum for deliveries!!! What tops all that is when people call in before 5pm(when we take deliveries) and ask to place a delivery order. When you try to explain to them that we can’t deliver until 5pm, they’ll ask “well why can’t you go ahead and take it now” BECAUSE IT DOESN’T MATTER YOU IDIOT!!!
Bah…that’s all I got for now…anyone else want to share their work horror stories? It’s always fun!!!