I weep for our future.
Last night, a group of maybe six or seven young teenagers (around 14 or 15 years old) came rushing up to the cafe, and, without taking any time to look for themselves, one of them blurted out, "How much is it for two tall double chocolate chip frappuccinos?" Now, we have all of our prices up on the menu. They're not hard to find. To be fair, most of us who work there don't know the prices of everything off the top of our heads. And when I'm feeling particularly bitchy and someone asks for the cost of a drink, I turn around slowly, look at the price, and read it off the menu. So, back to the teenagers. My co-worker found the price and told them one was $3.50 plus tax.
"But how much is it for two?"
...Seriously? Seriously? You're in high school, and you can't multiply $3.50 by two? Really? Of course, there is also sales tax. But it's 6%. I could understand if it was 6.25% or something. But it's 6%. (3.5 x 2) x 1.06 = 7.42. Come the fuck on. I'm terrible at math, and I could figure that out looooooooooong before that age.
I know I should give them the benefit of the doubt. They probably could do it if they tried. But that also kills me. They couldn't even be bothered to try. I don't know. I was brought up to have the price of something figured out before I got to the register, just so if I was paying in cash, I could have it all ready to go and therefore spend less time digging for money in front of the cashier.
Of course, this was also the group that included a boy who wanted a bagel with five cream cheeses. (We only have options for a bagel + one or two cream cheeses in the register, and Mike had originally rung him up for a bagel + one. So, new transaction for four cream cheeses.) "That's a dollar oh six, right?"
"A dollar oh six?" (Who phrases it that way? Really. Not "a dollar six" or "one oh six." "A dollar oh six." I do admit I was being kind of rude in the way I repeated it back to him, but still.)
"Yeah, 25 times four plus six cents. A dollar oh six." And then he looks at me like I'm an idiot. Hey, buddy, you're friends with the kids who can't multiply 3.50 by two, so don't give me that bullshit.
And, after all that, when they had been up in front of the register for a good four or five minutes and they were seemingly done ordering, I asked one more time if anyone else was getting anything. Two girls looked at me and told me they were all set. Okay, great. I moved on to the poor woman stuck standing behind them. And as I started making her drink, Mike turned to me and informed me I needed to make two more tall double chocolate chip frappuccinos...for the girls who had just told me they were done. Jesus. I...kind of wanted to throw their frapps at them. But that would be juvenile and would get me fired.
Also, I'm thinking of getting into Bones, partially because I've been seeing a lot of people online talk about it lately, and, well, I've liked David Boreanaz since Angel. God, that man is still attractive. The only show I watch religiously anymore is Lost, since House has pretty much jumped the shark. I catch Fringe when I remember to watch it, but otherwise...yeah. Just Lost. It's sad.
"But how much is it for two?"
...Seriously? Seriously? You're in high school, and you can't multiply $3.50 by two? Really? Of course, there is also sales tax. But it's 6%. I could understand if it was 6.25% or something. But it's 6%. (3.5 x 2) x 1.06 = 7.42. Come the fuck on. I'm terrible at math, and I could figure that out looooooooooong before that age.
I know I should give them the benefit of the doubt. They probably could do it if they tried. But that also kills me. They couldn't even be bothered to try. I don't know. I was brought up to have the price of something figured out before I got to the register, just so if I was paying in cash, I could have it all ready to go and therefore spend less time digging for money in front of the cashier.
Of course, this was also the group that included a boy who wanted a bagel with five cream cheeses. (We only have options for a bagel + one or two cream cheeses in the register, and Mike had originally rung him up for a bagel + one. So, new transaction for four cream cheeses.) "That's a dollar oh six, right?"
"A dollar oh six?" (Who phrases it that way? Really. Not "a dollar six" or "one oh six." "A dollar oh six." I do admit I was being kind of rude in the way I repeated it back to him, but still.)
"Yeah, 25 times four plus six cents. A dollar oh six." And then he looks at me like I'm an idiot. Hey, buddy, you're friends with the kids who can't multiply 3.50 by two, so don't give me that bullshit.
And, after all that, when they had been up in front of the register for a good four or five minutes and they were seemingly done ordering, I asked one more time if anyone else was getting anything. Two girls looked at me and told me they were all set. Okay, great. I moved on to the poor woman stuck standing behind them. And as I started making her drink, Mike turned to me and informed me I needed to make two more tall double chocolate chip frappuccinos...for the girls who had just told me they were done. Jesus. I...kind of wanted to throw their frapps at them. But that would be juvenile and would get me fired.
Also, I'm thinking of getting into Bones, partially because I've been seeing a lot of people online talk about it lately, and, well, I've liked David Boreanaz since Angel. God, that man is still attractive. The only show I watch religiously anymore is Lost, since House has pretty much jumped the shark. I catch Fringe when I remember to watch it, but otherwise...yeah. Just Lost. It's sad.