(no subject)
There is a person at work known to me only as Guy I Hate. I hate Guy I Hate. Now I know that I have been known to throw around the phrase 'I hate' lightly, but I defy anyone to work with Guy I Hate and not hate him. He is awful. I base this judgement on three seperate occurences.
Before I go into the first there is something you must know about fish market/take-out culture: When you recieve a take-out order you are responsible for going into the kitchen and putting it all together yourself. This can be a bonus because it takes at least ten to fifteen minutes for the chefs to make everything so you are garunteed at least a ten to fifteen minute window where you will not have to deal with customers or do busy work. Of course if you're waiting and the other members of the market have way too much to do you abandon take-out and help them, knowing you have about fifteen minutes.
One day we were working alone together and I was enjoying a brief break waiting for take-out to come through. Guy I Hate comes in and informs me that we're out of something or other. "Well go back into the walk-in and get some more," I tell him.
"I don't know where it is," Guy I Hate informs me.
"It's in the walk-in. It's not very big, it's in a fish tub. It's labled!"
"Well why don't you go get it and I'll do take out!" Guy I Hate is reletively knew and it's not hard to see that he's trying to steal my unofficial coffee break.
"Because I've already started putting the order together!" I lie. "Go get it yourself!"
"Are you retarded?" Guy I Hate asks with little provocation. Realizing that it will be faster to do it his way than argue I storm off to the walk-in. As soon as I get back to the market it explodes with customers, calls, and waitstaff wanting lobsters killed. I am swamped. Guy I Hate stands there for another twenty minutes waiting for food to come out watching me struggle with about ten tasks at once. He stands there knowing full well that he will be getting paid more than me to stand around doing nothing while I do both of our jobs. Guy I Hate found it very funny.
The next weekend Guy I Hate and I were closing up the market. There was no pull list so we finished closing early. Guy I Hate had arrived at work two hours after me and therefor was going to have to stay another hour to take any late night take out orders. Glen was checking out the market and when he was done I was going to be relieved. He found a bag of shrimp in the fish case we forgot about. I dashed to put it away in the walk-in. When I come back Glen has signed us out and Guy I hate has left, leaving me to work his final hour. He had also taken all the tip money for the night. I hate Guy I Hate.
It is now very late in the season and the only ones left in the fish market are me, Jake, and Guy I Hate. My last day is Monday and I haven't had any time off since Sunday. Nor will I have any until, well, Tuesday. I am schedualed to work Friday night. I went into work today and Patty told me that Guy I Hate called out sick for Friday and I will need to work his shift as well as my own. This means that I will be working from noon to 10, all on my own, on the busiest day of the week during the busiest month of the season. I want to murder Guy I Hate.
Before I go into the first there is something you must know about fish market/take-out culture: When you recieve a take-out order you are responsible for going into the kitchen and putting it all together yourself. This can be a bonus because it takes at least ten to fifteen minutes for the chefs to make everything so you are garunteed at least a ten to fifteen minute window where you will not have to deal with customers or do busy work. Of course if you're waiting and the other members of the market have way too much to do you abandon take-out and help them, knowing you have about fifteen minutes.
One day we were working alone together and I was enjoying a brief break waiting for take-out to come through. Guy I Hate comes in and informs me that we're out of something or other. "Well go back into the walk-in and get some more," I tell him.
"I don't know where it is," Guy I Hate informs me.
"It's in the walk-in. It's not very big, it's in a fish tub. It's labled!"
"Well why don't you go get it and I'll do take out!" Guy I Hate is reletively knew and it's not hard to see that he's trying to steal my unofficial coffee break.
"Because I've already started putting the order together!" I lie. "Go get it yourself!"
"Are you retarded?" Guy I Hate asks with little provocation. Realizing that it will be faster to do it his way than argue I storm off to the walk-in. As soon as I get back to the market it explodes with customers, calls, and waitstaff wanting lobsters killed. I am swamped. Guy I Hate stands there for another twenty minutes waiting for food to come out watching me struggle with about ten tasks at once. He stands there knowing full well that he will be getting paid more than me to stand around doing nothing while I do both of our jobs. Guy I Hate found it very funny.
The next weekend Guy I Hate and I were closing up the market. There was no pull list so we finished closing early. Guy I Hate had arrived at work two hours after me and therefor was going to have to stay another hour to take any late night take out orders. Glen was checking out the market and when he was done I was going to be relieved. He found a bag of shrimp in the fish case we forgot about. I dashed to put it away in the walk-in. When I come back Glen has signed us out and Guy I hate has left, leaving me to work his final hour. He had also taken all the tip money for the night. I hate Guy I Hate.
It is now very late in the season and the only ones left in the fish market are me, Jake, and Guy I Hate. My last day is Monday and I haven't had any time off since Sunday. Nor will I have any until, well, Tuesday. I am schedualed to work Friday night. I went into work today and Patty told me that Guy I Hate called out sick for Friday and I will need to work his shift as well as my own. This means that I will be working from noon to 10, all on my own, on the busiest day of the week during the busiest month of the season. I want to murder Guy I Hate.