A Comedy of Errors
Around 9:00 am, there is a forceful knock on my door. I know that the mailman often delivers this early now, and I am expecting a package today, so I make myself semi-presentable. Not the mailman, but it is my Jehovah's Witness stalker and his gay protege (Alex). He asks if he has woken me, and I run with it (as he knows that I work overnights). This keeps him from coming in, but he has expanded his desired stay for another time from 10 minutes to 30 minutes (though I'm sure he would be much longer than 30 minutes if I were to let him in anyway). After lying about the times of day that I'm awake (hoping that he cannot come out after dark), he makes a promise that he will find a time that works (and he always keeps his promises). Whatever, at least they're gone for now.
I then go to check the mail at 11:00 am before walking to the post office to send out my Blockbuster movies. There is no package. There is no slip saying that it is stowed at the office. I decide to check anyway. Yep, package is there with another that I wasn't expecting quite yet. Had I not decided to check anyway, it would have sat outside the locked office while other people came to get their packages over the weekend. Not okay. But I got it taken care of, so not a huge issue.
I had decided to save my DQ gift certificate for this morning on my way back from the post office. I get there and find that they have not instated the value menu (everything in Menomonie is about 6 months behind everywhere else...see the Subway gift card incident of two summers ago). No problem, though. I'll just get my usual (#7 - double cheeseburger meal). It takes a little bit and a few tries of the gift card. The cashier is a teenage boy who is new (and possibly on his first day) and doesn't yet know how to do much of anything. I felt bad for the poor guy, because he had to call over someone else on pretty much every order. Later I think I hear my number called, but there's no one at the pickup counter. There were customers at the register, so I figure that it is not my number yet (and it wasn't). Then I hear the number before me. I get up to wait closer to the pick up counter, because I notice that this order does go to the cash register and not the pickup counter. Another order comes up, and I figure it's mine. It turns out to be the order after mine. So I look over by the register, but don't see my order there. I wait a few more minutes, and another order comes up. The poor boy looks inside to see a chicken strip basket. He then realizes that he has screwed up again and given my meal to the guy after me. They are great about it and get to work on a replacement order for me. They then offer me the chicken strip basket for my inconvenience. I now have two meals for the price of free today. :D But I feel badly for the poor boy. He is clearly frazzled by this, and I want to tell him that it happens when you first start. I don't get the chance, but I do stress to the other worker that it wasn't a problem.
And now I'm off to eat my #7 and watch Terminator and Dollhouse. :D
I then go to check the mail at 11:00 am before walking to the post office to send out my Blockbuster movies. There is no package. There is no slip saying that it is stowed at the office. I decide to check anyway. Yep, package is there with another that I wasn't expecting quite yet. Had I not decided to check anyway, it would have sat outside the locked office while other people came to get their packages over the weekend. Not okay. But I got it taken care of, so not a huge issue.
I had decided to save my DQ gift certificate for this morning on my way back from the post office. I get there and find that they have not instated the value menu (everything in Menomonie is about 6 months behind everywhere else...see the Subway gift card incident of two summers ago). No problem, though. I'll just get my usual (#7 - double cheeseburger meal). It takes a little bit and a few tries of the gift card. The cashier is a teenage boy who is new (and possibly on his first day) and doesn't yet know how to do much of anything. I felt bad for the poor guy, because he had to call over someone else on pretty much every order. Later I think I hear my number called, but there's no one at the pickup counter. There were customers at the register, so I figure that it is not my number yet (and it wasn't). Then I hear the number before me. I get up to wait closer to the pick up counter, because I notice that this order does go to the cash register and not the pickup counter. Another order comes up, and I figure it's mine. It turns out to be the order after mine. So I look over by the register, but don't see my order there. I wait a few more minutes, and another order comes up. The poor boy looks inside to see a chicken strip basket. He then realizes that he has screwed up again and given my meal to the guy after me. They are great about it and get to work on a replacement order for me. They then offer me the chicken strip basket for my inconvenience. I now have two meals for the price of free today. :D But I feel badly for the poor boy. He is clearly frazzled by this, and I want to tell him that it happens when you first start. I don't get the chance, but I do stress to the other worker that it wasn't a problem.
And now I'm off to eat my #7 and watch Terminator and Dollhouse. :D