My first day on the job. The woes of me. (Pretty mild)

The BBQ Pit
1

So I finally finish training and today’s the first “official” day on the job. Of course, I have some supervision, but it’s minimal now. I work in a soup/sandwich restaurant in I guess you would call it the food court in the airport, but we’re the only restaurant there, so we’re basically garunteed a monopoly. Part of my job is to work in the front and take orders, prepare the cold sandwiches and when the food is done in the kitchen, bring it out to the dining area. In the morning, there is usually a big rush and we distrubute tickets to match the order so there won’t be as much confusion.

Today is the first day I will ever have done this. So, the cook in the kitchen rings the bell indicating that the breakfast meal is ready. I look at the order sheet from the kitchen and it was number 28. So, I take it out to the dining area. I call out (loudly, might I add) “NUMBER 28”. No response. So, I walk around the area, yelling out the number “28!! 28!! 28!! THIS ORDER IS FOR 28!!” No response. Meanwhile, a bunch of old geezers are sitting at a table and I kept hearing their complaints of why it was taking so long. “Ugh. Why is it taking so long? We have to be on the plane in ten minutes.” I walk around and around, yelling “28! Please check your tickets for number 28!” Still, old geezers “What is TAKING SO LONG?!?!” They keep complaining amongst themselves.

Guess where I’m taking you with this? Right. Finally, after carrying around the hot hot HOT plate of eggs and ham and hashbrowns and toast, I walk up to each and every one of the tables and ask to see their ticket number. Guess who has it? Thaaaaat’s right. The old geezers who have been complaining about their food not arriving as soon as they order it. So, they only had five minutes to gobble down their food instead of ten. It’s their own god damn fault. But they actually had the nerve to say to me “Your restaurant takes too long to prepare your food.” Yeah, especially since I spent five minutes carrying around the god damn plate and you’re unresponsive to your food. But it was too early to argue with them. The customer is always right. I’m still new at this job.

I just know there will be more of these people as I continue working. That’s what I get for being poor.

2

If every single experience I’ve ever had of buying food in an airport is any guide, you will soon enter a new state of being where you realize that no matter how good a job you do, your customers will often act like obnoxious pricks, and no matter how bad a job you do, you still get paid the same and will never get fired. Apathy, and in some cases catatonia, will soon set in and your work day will pass in a blur. Embrace it. I recommend modifying your username to be a handy catch phrase.

Geezers: “Your restaurant takes too long to prepare your food.”
You: “Up yours.”

What are the geezers going to do? Stop flying to Canada because the food service at the airport isn’t very good? Please. Revel in the suckiness of your job and let go of your work ethic and your job pride. It’s inevitable, anyway.

<Darth Vader>It is…your destiny.</Darth Vader>

3

I try to avoid all jobs where a customer is involved, I know how obnoxious people can get. I also know all about old geezers.

4

Yea, people are assholes. Especially people “in a hurry”. You don’t matter, because they’re “in a hurry.”

5

I don’t work retail anymore, but I have in the past.

I tried never to let the occasional jerk ruin a perfectly good day. Remember, you only have to deal with them for a few moments, they have to live with themselves for the rest of their lives.

6

Sad, but true. And along the lines of what Odinoneeye said, I usually think, “Well, that guy was a jerk, but at some poin, someone had to live with him!”

Oh, and no one can read. But you’ll learn that soon enough. Don’t even bother posting signs.

7

I feel your pain. I too work in a fast-food joint in a food court and have to call out order numbers. Most people stand there, slack-jawed and drooling, staring at me like I’m gonna pull their order outta my ass.

Or…I have this type of customer: Harried parent who can’t stand there for FIVE FREAKING MINUTES while we prepare the order and go sit HALF WAY across the food court to wait. Then, after yelling their order number out until my voice is hoarse, they come back like 20 min later, complain their food is cold and tell me (like I haven’t heard it a zillion other times)that we need to get some sort of a loudspeaker system or a bullhorn.:rolleyes:

Get used to it, UpYours.

IDBB

8

7 up yours, I thought you might like this little story on the other side of the coin! :slight_smile:

My two uncles were on the road and stopped at a little diner for breakfast–they were the only ones there. The woman took their order and gave them a number. No one else has come into the diner the whole time they are there, but when the order is ready, instead of just calling them over to get it, she goes to the microphone and calls out (repeatedly), “Number 14? 14, your order is ready,” as if the place is packed. My uncle–this is just the kind of guy he is–cranes his neck and looks all around the room and then at his ticket. “OH!! That’s us!!” They, of course, are far more amused than the waitress! :smiley:

I have a feeling, though, that the old fellas you had to deal with STILL wouldn’t have known who you were calling in this situation, huh?

9

Last summer when I did my ice cream job, we used a number system for the food orders. People would order, we’d tell them to stay nearby, and they’d go to the very other end of the parking lot, and sit in their cars with the AC running. I literally went hoarse screaming out some of those orders. I’m a quiet girl, but when needbe, I can let out a roar.

Eventually, I took to bribing little kids nearby with a free ice cream if they’d walk around yelling for me. They had a lot more energy than I did.

10

Pammipoo–you are brilliant.:slight_smile: I’ve had sympathetic kids do that for me on ocassion when my voice has started going out from yelling so much.

IDBB

11

Hell, I’ve literally lost my voice at work more than once, calling out peoples’ drinks. Even when each drink order is preceded by the person’s name. Depending what kind of mood I’m in, the progression goes as follows:

“Christine, your grande nonfat mocha is ready!”
“Christine! Grande nonfat mocha at the [espresso] bar!”
“Christine, grande nonfat mocha, LAST CALL!” (this makes it sound like something dire is going to happen, but it really means I’m not gonna call the drink again for a while. Usually wakes people up)
“Christine! Your grande nonfat mocha is getting cold at the bar!”
“Christine! I’m going to keep calling your name and embarrassing you until you pick up your drink!”
“One grande nonfat mocha getting lonely at the bar!”
“For the love of humanity, will no-one claim Christine’s grande nonfat mocha?!”

The store isn’t even that big, and I’ve got a healthy set of lungs and an irritating voice. Yet somehow, these people manage to, in the two to three minutes it takes to make their drinks, forget not only what they ordered, but their own names.

12

Congratulations on starting your new job! It beats the hell out of being unemployed.

13

Well, here’s an update. It’s not just old geezers who are bad customers. There is also the “I-don’t-consume-anything-that-is-remotely-fattening-bimbo-bitch”.

Senario:

We serve a kind of fruity ice drink. It doesn’t have milk or anything, mostly sugar and ice. This Bimbo Bitch comes up to the ordering area, I ask her “Is there anything I can help you with?” as required. She says in a snotty tone that she needs a few more minutes. Fine by me. I help the next person in line because it’s slowly forming. It’s not crowded, but there are quite a few people and I don’t want a hold up. Great. So I help the people behind her and direct them to pay at the cash register. The lady comes up to me and asks for the fruity ice drink. I say “No problem! It’ll be about five minutes though.” because the people I helped before her also wanted a fruity ice drink. But see, according to BB, since she was there before them, it doesn’t matter that they ordered before her. I have to make hers first. Pfff. As if. I say “Sorry, but these people placed their order before you and I don’t want to upset anyone, but this is how we have to do things.” She gives me a snotty look as if to say “Go to hell” but she stays silent. Then, after about a whole five seconds, she says “Okay, fine, you know what? Forget the fruity iced drink. I’ll get a coke instead.” So, she goes to the drinks fridge (it’s a help-yourself) and grabs a can of coke. The cashier today was also new like me (he got hired the same day as me, but it just happened he was doing cash today). He, like me, doesn’t know where all the buttons are yet and I guess it’s not even that big of a deal because our manager’s says througout the day “Take it slow. It’s okay.” This lady, who apparently was the most important person in the world decided that being new is a crime and gave the can of coke to the cashier (didn’t even bother to put it back in the fridge, stupid bimbo bitch) and said “Fuck you. You just lost yourself a customer” and stormed away.

Well, we all just gaped at her speechlessly when she stormed away. And the cashier was really upset about that because he’s never dealt with anyone so… bimbo bitchy. The manager kept telling him it was no big deal. This stuff isn’t his (cashier’s) fault. Once in a while, we get customers like that. But he couldn’t be soothed. He was still upset because he was still pretty new and nervous.

So, to **bimbo bitch]. Fuck you. You are NOT that important for us to get upset over. You are NOT that special to require that I drop everything and take your order. And you are NOT that skinny either so get over yourself. Bitch

14

…and the villagers rejoiced!

15

Yep. I’ll do my job the best I can, and if it involves customer service then I’ll try to make the customers happy, but the day I start to care about losing one of the nasty ones would be the day my name was on the ownership papers.

“You just lost yourself a customer!”

“Promise?”

16

up yours, every time I witness an incident like yours, I have the fantasy of grabbing the offending party by the shoulders, shaking them like an unmixed paint can, and yelling, “Are you having a bad day or just an asshole in general? Now go back there and apologize to the poor person who never did you a bit of harm.” But, of course, I don’t (usually). As anyone else who’s ever worked in retail, I have my fair share of “customer from hell” stories, but there’s been a couple of times when I was the not-so-innocent bystander and actually inserted myself in the situation.

One of the joys/sorrows of being drunk in a public place is that your social censor nods off. You know, the part of you that says, “Yeah, that may sound like a good idea now, but you’ll be sorry for it later.” After a evening of pub crawling, my friend and I retired to a neighborhood McDonald’s for burgers and fries. As we’re enjoying said burgers and fries at one of the tables, I hear a loud screechy sound coming from the counter. It’s a 30-ish woman in stylish dress lambasting the poor guy at the cash register. Now, I don’t know what the guy did to deserve this dressing down . . . it might have been something horrible. But the lady went ON and ON, and the poor kid just stood there, red faced, obviously excruciatingly embarrassed, mumbling “I’m sorry . . .” I mean, what else could he do? After what seemed to be about 5 straight minutes of hurling abuse, she grabbed her order and stalked for the door.

I couldn’t help myself. In as loud a voice as possible, but without yelling, I said, “Damn, what a bitch!” The entire restaurant froze. My friend began to slide under the table. The woman stormed back in, about as close the spontaneous human combustion as I’ve ever witnessed. To all the counter personnel, she barked, “Who said that?!”

All eyes went to me. I said, “I did.” By this time, my friend’s head, I swear, was below table level.

But all that happened was that she gave me a go-to-hell look, and stormed back out. Damn. I’ve always wanted to use the line: “But in the morning I’ll be sober, and you’ll still be a bitch.”

I never have used the line. One my life’s regrets.

17

Ugh. I see my last post was a little screwed up.

But today’s story is about people who are just so arrogant. I have yet another story to tell about a Foreign Arrogant Bastard. (European, most likely)

This FAB comes up to the counter. I ask him if there’s anything I can help him with. He says he wants coffee. I guesture towards the cashier, where the coffee pots are. He points to the specialty coffee machine behind me (they make only specialty coffee like lattes, mochas, expressos, ect) and asks me to make him FRESH coffee from that. At this point, I’m slightly confused because it’s for specialty coffee only. So I ask him if he wanted an expresso or latte or a specialty coffee. He’s like "No. No. No. I want fresh coffee from that (pointing to coffee machine). I smile at him and explain to him that it’s specialty coffee only and guesture towards the coffee pot by the cashier. He frowns at me. Says in a snotty tone. “I don’t drink from the pot. Make me a coffee from that.” I smile. I say “I’m sorry, that’s for specialty coffee only. If you want fresh coffee, there is a pot by the cashier. It’s fresh. We change it every half an hour.” He gives me a look of disgust. He says “I. Don’t. Drink. From. The. Pot.” He stares at me. I smile. I shrug. There’s nothing I can do, now is there? He leaves in a huff. As if I’m the one being unreasonable. Maybe it was his European accent, but he was so snotty and arrogant. I don’t think I should have smiled at him.

Oi. Each day, there’s at least one bad customer. Oh well. It’s not like I hate my job. It’s just that there are so many bad customers.

18

Now, let me think, where could he be from where people usually poison the coffee in pots in restaurants? Hmmmm. Sorry, drawing a blank here. Maybe you could draw people like that a mug of hot water and dump a teaspoon of instant coffee in for them. That’d learn 'em. :smiley:

19

He doesn’t drink from the pot? What does he do-stick his mouth under the drip?

www.customerssuck.com

20

Is the “specialty coffee machine” an espresso-type machine? Or one of them “push the button look it’s a cappuccino no really” machines? It’s possible he wanted an Americano (espresso and hot water).

He was, however, a buttmonkey. If you’re that picky about your damn coffee, learn how to order it. “I don’t drink from the pot” indeed. I would’ve busted a gut keeping myself from saying “That’s not what your plumber says. Really, sir, you need a better adhesive so your toupee doesn’t fall into the bowl.”