I recently (about 4 months ago) acquired a cashiering job at a local, small, family-owned Chinese restaraunt. In the time that I have worked there, I have worked up quite a rant. This is that rant.
The following groups should burn in hell:
People who rudely toss their money/credit/debit cards at me. I don’t know who pissed in your cornflakes this morning, but it wouldn’t cost you anything to hand me your payment. I would dearly love to throw your change/receipt into the street in the same manner and make you dodge traffic to pick it up.
People who tap their fingers/cards/pens on the counter.
STOP IT!
People who block the counter while waiting for someone to pack their take-out order. See that row of chairs over there by the Buddha? Go sit there. It’s going to be a few minutes. You’ve already paid, and the people behind you would like to do the same.
People who suddenly remember they are university/community college students. There is a sign over the buffet. You obviously noticed it because you are asking for the discount. You obviously didn’t notice the line underneath the “$1 off for students” that asked that you show your ID to the waitress so she may note this on your ticket and add it up correctly. Tossing it at me while I am ringing you up delays and annoys us both. If you toss it at me after I have rung you up, guess what, Boo? You ain’t getting the discount.
People who mumble on the phone. E-NUNCI-FUCKING-ATE. I don’t know what “mmph mmin mmmphr mph” is, but I’m pretty sure we don’t have it.
People who order on their cell phone. Could you please fix the volume on that thing? I hate having to ask you to repeat everything thrice or having to hold the phone eight feet away so I don’t go deaf.
People who place orders and never pick them up. That’s a special kind of stupid.
People who ask for french fries. Dude. You’re at a Chinese restaraunt. Yes we have fried chicken wings. They come with rice. You do know the difference between rice and fries, right?
Ill-mannered children. It’s very simple: children may not run around like ferrets in the restaraunt. Children may not tap the very expensive screens the owners brought all the way from Hong Kong. Children may not fling their rice like monkeys flinging poo until the carpet is littered with the grains. Shrill shrieking children should be taken into the foyer so the other customers will not stab you with forks and chopsticks. And I’m not sure I’d stop them. I’d probably be stabbing with the best of them.
Large parties with separate checks. I hate them because they cause chaos. I hate them because those who are paying with checks or credit cards do not heed the call of the cashier who is trying to save the harried cashier at the register a nervous breakdown. I hate them because they always cause a huge traffic jam when smaller groups want to pay. I hate them because they always stop to chat when they’re supposed to be signing their receipt.
School groups. We had a huge group of middle-schoolers on a field trip stop by the other day. Many people wanted to kill them. They blocked the buffet, played hide-and-seek in the bathroom, and were louder than all get-out. Middle-school teachers should get hazard pay and a $100 bonus for each child they don’t strangle.
Church parties. Tell me why we should give your 10-person group the entire back room, the room that could easily accomodate 100 people? Half the people they tell us to expect never show up, they take for-bloody-ever, and they often pay with separate checks when in huge groups. They are incredibly selfish and I dislike that. I expect I’ll be flamed for this, but that’s the way I feel.
Drunken businessmen. They’re even worse than church groups. Added bonuses of the drunken businessmen include: their loud singing as they leave, their $40 bar tabs that clear out certain brands of beer in our bar twice in a night, and their insistence on driving themselves home. I make sure I go home well after the drunken businessmen leave.
Large parties who don’t call for reservations. You’d think people would realize they have a better chance of getting a good table for their 20-person group if they call ahead and make plans with the manager. You’d think that, but you’d be wrong. My first day on the job was memorable because two–count 'em two–groups of twenty professors from the local university decided they wanted Chinese for lunch. Scramble much? This breed of person is most often seen on Sunday afternoons when their entire 12-person family decides to just drop in for lunch. Now I know why my parents always went home and made pancakes for Sunday lunch.
Of course, all this is increased tenfold since it’s the holidays. Spirit of giving, my ass.
Add your own complaints and we can have a rant party!
