woe is me with my first-world problems.
I am sick sick sick of my job. Sure, I'm glad that I have it, but I am tired of getting dumped in back booth and having to beg for bathroom breaks. I am sick of getting breaks 2.5 hours into an 8-hour shift. I am tired of listening to you cough and sneeze and talk on your cell phone and hem and haw over the 6-piece versus the 10-piece and oh my god if one more person says "Can I get a, uhhhh...." I might actually snap. I am tired of hearing adult human beings order "hamboogers and cheeseboogers" and people trying to sound cultured and sophisticated ordering "an iced mocha latte."
I'm tired of biting my tongue when people order large meals with large chocolate shakes, and then complain to me about how fattening fast food is and how we're to blame for all that's wrong with America. If I get one more handful of sticky change, I am going to spit in your face. I am sick of hearing high school girls giggling in drive through. "Lol I'm ordering food like a growed-up!" I want to punch all you potheads who take six minutes to order a double and a Coke. Everyone who orders their food "to-go" in the Drive Through and then chortles like you're so funny...you should choke.
I will not tiptoe around my managers for much longer. I'm so sorry that morons keep paying for their dollar sweet teas and hamboogers with twenty and fifty dollar bills and therefore that I'm running out of singles or dimes or pennies, and that it's just so inconvenient for you to do your job instead of chatting with the runner. My bad, I haven't had a bathroom break in almost four hours, and my bladder's about to burst, and, oh, I'm worried that maybe I'm bleeding down my leg, so excuse me while I go to the bathroom regardless of your frustrated sigh. I would love to take my break right now, sure, except I'm going to be here for another seven damn hours.
Thanks, scheduling manager, for taking my availability request (early early mornings, please!) under advisement, and then constantly scheduling me evening and closing shifts. That's great. Sure, maybe it's somewhat out of your hands--not a huge demand for labor at 6am on a Tuesday, but jesus crust, did you forget that I requested opening shifts or something?
I am tired of spending the best parts of every day working at a place where I am underpaid and expected to be intelligent only when it's convenient for the customers. 90% of the time, I am regarded by you people ordering your "crunchwrap supreme thing with 'chipolte' sauce" as a drooling moron, barely even fit to speak to you. People avoid eye contact with me like I'm a bloody basilisk, and rarely deign to speak to me beyond the "gimme a 99 cent chicken sandwich and a fry." But when they want information--how far down does the parade route go? Can I take this street to 75? What happened to Wendy's? Does Popeye's get much business? Why is the sky blue? What is the population of China?--that's when I'm expected to snap to attention.
It's a paycheck. There are some okay people there, and not every customer sucks. The problem is, when I go to work in the middle of the day and am expected to stay there (most likely taking orders and customers' bullshit in a 4x4 room) until it's dark out, and my head is throbbing and I'm on my period and have been working for eight days straight, the shitty things stand out the most. Which reminds me, after taxes and everything is taken out of my paycheck, I can barely afford to buy a Big Mac meal after one hour of work--let alone one with your large chocolate shake. Not that I would, because they're disgusting, but figure that one out.
I'm tired of biting my tongue when people order large meals with large chocolate shakes, and then complain to me about how fattening fast food is and how we're to blame for all that's wrong with America. If I get one more handful of sticky change, I am going to spit in your face. I am sick of hearing high school girls giggling in drive through. "Lol I'm ordering food like a growed-up!" I want to punch all you potheads who take six minutes to order a double and a Coke. Everyone who orders their food "to-go" in the Drive Through and then chortles like you're so funny...you should choke.
I will not tiptoe around my managers for much longer. I'm so sorry that morons keep paying for their dollar sweet teas and hamboogers with twenty and fifty dollar bills and therefore that I'm running out of singles or dimes or pennies, and that it's just so inconvenient for you to do your job instead of chatting with the runner. My bad, I haven't had a bathroom break in almost four hours, and my bladder's about to burst, and, oh, I'm worried that maybe I'm bleeding down my leg, so excuse me while I go to the bathroom regardless of your frustrated sigh. I would love to take my break right now, sure, except I'm going to be here for another seven damn hours.
Thanks, scheduling manager, for taking my availability request (early early mornings, please!) under advisement, and then constantly scheduling me evening and closing shifts. That's great. Sure, maybe it's somewhat out of your hands--not a huge demand for labor at 6am on a Tuesday, but jesus crust, did you forget that I requested opening shifts or something?
I am tired of spending the best parts of every day working at a place where I am underpaid and expected to be intelligent only when it's convenient for the customers. 90% of the time, I am regarded by you people ordering your "crunchwrap supreme thing with 'chipolte' sauce" as a drooling moron, barely even fit to speak to you. People avoid eye contact with me like I'm a bloody basilisk, and rarely deign to speak to me beyond the "gimme a 99 cent chicken sandwich and a fry." But when they want information--how far down does the parade route go? Can I take this street to 75? What happened to Wendy's? Does Popeye's get much business? Why is the sky blue? What is the population of China?--that's when I'm expected to snap to attention.
It's a paycheck. There are some okay people there, and not every customer sucks. The problem is, when I go to work in the middle of the day and am expected to stay there (most likely taking orders and customers' bullshit in a 4x4 room) until it's dark out, and my head is throbbing and I'm on my period and have been working for eight days straight, the shitty things stand out the most. Which reminds me, after taxes and everything is taken out of my paycheck, I can barely afford to buy a Big Mac meal after one hour of work--let alone one with your large chocolate shake. Not that I would, because they're disgusting, but figure that one out.