Ohhh, the memories. I worked plenty of fast food jobs - I got my first one at 14, worked them pretty much throughout HS.
Nastiest Place: Ms. Winners Fried Chicken, Chamblee-Dunwoody Rd, Chamblee GA. No longer there. Had a woman who had leg issues and didn’t like standing for more than 10 minutes. Her job was to wash the dishes, a job which pretty much demanded that you stand. Her solution was to fill two tubs full of water - one with soap, the other with the “sanitizing rinse”, sit on the floor, and hand-wash the dishes, placing the “clean” dishes directly on the floor.
Qutting: It was the Summer of Live Aid and I was putting in some time at Wendy’s on Savoy Drive in Chamblee, GA. Probably my favorite fast-food job, had a crush on a blonde beauty named Darcy Dunkerley, and the shift of regulars really jelled. Anyway, this woman walks in and orders a taco salad (of which it was neither). We ran out of chili earlier, meaning that taco salads would lack this very important ingredient. I told the lady this (as I told all the customers), and reminded her before I started making the salad, er, food product.
I also remember it as being very busy, Darcy had quit the week before, and school was in session. I was also supposed to close that night, and I suspect that a high percentage of all impomptu fast-food quittings involve in some way the thought man, I really don’t want to close tonight.
Lady gets it, goes to her table, and bingo - starts poking around her food product as if it were, you know… missing something. Brings it back to me.
“My taco salad doesn’t have any chili.”
“Yes, I know. I mentioned that a number of times when you ordered it, remember?”
“No, you most certainly did not.”
“Are you calling me a liar?” (I really didn’t want to close this night. Chris was going to bring some awesome weed to the party, which I would miss if I worked all the way to 2:30!)
“I want my taco salad replaced.”
“There are millions of people dying in Africa ‘cause they have nothing to eat, and you’re whining about your goddamned taco salad? Boo-fuckin’-hoo, lady!”
“I want to see your manager!”
Guess what? I ended up not closing that evening, after all! Yeah!
Cow-orkers: I knew all the stereotypes: the ex-con working his time off, the fat blowhard who was so full of shit he squeaked as he walked, the “wise” 30-40 something that seemed to have it all together… except for the fact that they’re 30-40 years old and working as a slicer at Arby’s, the cute teenage girl that would last a month at best, the guy with the primo dope who smoked in the freezer. Had a manager steal and try to lay the blame on me (at Ms. Winners, above), had another manager make me a dish washer (Pizza Hut, Chamblee-Tucker Road, Tucker GA) then forbid me from washing the beer mugs as I was under the drinking age… then she got mad because the beer mugs kept piling up and she had to clean them.
Never worked at a McDonald’s before. BK and Wendy’s, yes, but not McD’s.