Posts Tagged ‘Rant’

The Three Questions Lady

Two things you probably already know about me: I like swearing and I like ranting. Today’s post will include both, and I also intend to show just how little it takes to set me off! Three simple questions could do it at any given time! Enjoy!

I was working at the counter today rather than spending my whole shift in the drive thru. When you’re working at the counter, you help the drive thru team if you’re not busy.

I wasn’t busy so I went over to the window to hand out an order that was ready.

A lady is sitting there, waiting in a blue car (not the racist in a blue car, I’ve made up my mind that if she comes back, I’m going to tell her to go fuck herself, and then deny it. I’ve been there for years and never done anything like that, she’s a racist. I think the manager will take my side.) This is a-totally-unrelated-probably-not-racist-lady-in-a-blue-car. I give her the drink, followed by the bag of food. “Here you are, have a nice day.”

“What kind of pop is this?” Are you fucking kidding me lady? Standard question in my *ahem* chosen profession: ‘fries and cola with that?’ FOR THE SAKE OF MY SANITY, PLEASE FUCKING PAY ATTENTION.

I look back at the screen to see. “It’s Cola ma’am.” WHY IN THE FUCK DON’T YOU KNOW WHAT DRINK YOU PAID FOR?

“OK, is there lots of ketchup in the bag?” Ummm, I fucking doubt it since it was ready when I got here and YOU DIDN’T ASK ME FOR ANY. Do you have any idea how dumb that question is? There’s not likely to be ANY fucking ketchup in the bag, nevermind ‘lots’. Stupid bitch.

“I doubt it, but I’ll get you some,” as I reach for some ketchup packets. ‘Lots’? How the hell am I supposed to know what ‘lots’ is to you? You have one goddamned order of french fries, are you stocking up at home? Really, who cares if I know what ‘lots’ means to you, why the hell would you need THAT much anyway? “Here you go” I say as she cups her hands together apparently so she can handle this bounty of ketchup packets she thinks she’s about to receive. What is this, the fucking ketchup kitchen? Fuck off lady.

“One more thing,” she says, JESUS LADY, THE DRIVE THRU IS SUPPOSED TO BE FAST. “Is the receipt in the bag?”

I know she doesn’t know that I didn’t put the food in the bag, but THE FUCKING BAG IS IN YOUR HAND LADY. I CANNOT SEE THROUGH THE BAG. I look behind me, the receipt is not on the receipt printer, so I would assume it’s in the bag. “I didn’t get the bag ready ma’am, I only came over to help and just handed it out, it should be in the bag,” I say politely.

She looks in the bag. This endeavour took way to many seconds. I LIVE MY DRIVE THRU LIFE IN SECONDS PEOPLE, HURRY THE FUCK UP. After a little digging around she looks up with a ‘proud of herself look’ and exclaims “Oh yes, it’s here. Thank You.” She smiles and drives off.

No, THANK YOU for getting the fuck out of the drive thru – FINALLY. People in the line are possibly starving at this point, and it’s your fault lady. Go fuck yourself. See, I told you it didn’t take much to set me off.

 

 

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The Blue Car Lady

This is an open letter to the lady in the blue car that passed my window but it needs an introduction that contains a little background. Here it is: We have an employee on staff named Kenny. Kenny is Filipino. Kenny came here looking to make a better life for his family – which I assume is what my ancestors did at some point seeing as I’m not Native American Indian with my entire bloodline born and raised here. His English is fantastic, and he’s damn good in the drive thru. He should be, I trained him myself.

He often works in the drive thru when I’m not there, and sometimes with me when I am there. Today was one of the times when I was there working with him. We had a customer asking for a poutine with her combo, but she was also asking for the fry and drink to be upsized. Dumb bitch.

You cannot upsize a poutine.

Customer: I’ll get the number four combo with a poutine and cola.

Kenny: Alright, is there anything else?

Customer: Can you upsize the fry and drink?

Kenny: I thought you wanted a poutine?

Customer: Can you upsize the fry and drink?

Kenny: Do you want a fry AND a poutine?

Customer: NO I WANT YOU TO UPSIZE IT.

Kenny:  We cannot upsize a poutine ma’am.

Customer: UPSIZE THE DRINK.

Kenny: Ok, $8.50, first widow please.

The woman drives up, pays, and then advances to the second window. Kenny gives her the upsized cola. She asks him to talk to me. Please realize that she DID NOT ask for a manager, she asked for me, apparently because I’m Canadian.

I go over to the window, “Is there something I can help you with?”

She starts “Yeah, the last couple of times I came here, the employee, and it’s always that guy (pointing to Kenny) can’t understand me. We’re in Canada here; you guys need to get some Canadians in the drive thru that speak English.”

I was kind of shocked. I didn’t really know how to respond to (yes, I know I said once before that I don’t think cunt is ever an appropriate term to use, but) this racist cunt. I stammered a bit and said “Well ma’am, he works here full time and is always in the drive thru, he serves several hundred other people each day and everything seems to be fine. I’m an employee that works for this company, I don’t hire the other employees, but I don’t think there’s anything wrong with him, or his English. Would you like to speak to the manager?”

“No, just, whatever, I’ve said my piece, let your manager know and hire some English people, I think I’m speaking pretty clear English.”

“Ok,” I said and handed her the food. “Did you need anything else?”

“No.” She took the food and drove off.

Kenny asked me, “What did she say?”

“Nothing, don’t worry about it,” I said.

“She hates me because I’m not Canadian, I heard her” he responded.

“Whatever, don’t worry about it, she was a fucking bitch” I replied.

This is an employee who wants nothing more than a better life for his family and he was just put down for no reason other than his different nationality by one of the stupidest bitches I have EVER dealt with. I assume she was born and raised here. That’s really too bad, she should have been an abortion.

I asked the guy who collected the money if she said anything to him and he told me that he has seen the same lady once before and she had the same attitude.

The more I thought about it after, the more it upset me. If I didn’t need this job, there are so many different things I could have said to her:

-“Oh do you hate everyone that isn’t white?” followed by a nice window slam.

-“If you don’t like it, then don’t fucking eat here.” followed by spitting on her.

-“FIRE IN THE HOLE” as I over hand threw the food bag into her car like a grenade.

-“Hold on a minute while I get the manager” then unzip my pants and piss into her car. “Here’s the manager and I think he wants me to kick you the fuck out.”

I told my boss about this by asking “Would I get in trouble if I told someone to fuck off?”

I’ve been there for a long time, and I’ve worked side by side with this guy for years so he obviously realized that I didn’t say that. “Probably not,” he responds “but so I can cover for you, what did you do?”

That made me smile, and I explained what had happened. He pulled Kenny into the conversation at this point, told him to forget about it because some people are fucking assholes and advised him that the next time she wanted to talk to someone to get him specifically and he would tell her to “Stick her nine dollars up her inappropriate-for-Canadian-society-ass.” I swear, I don’t get raises for making my boss look good in my blog, he’s just so awesome that his comments always come up. Seriously, he doesn’t even know I have a blog.

Unfortunately, I need to keep my job so I can’t speak freely to customers at work and my only forum for complaint is this blog. If I could get away with saying what I felt, I would. So here is the open letter:

Dear Racist Cunt,

Go fuck yourself and never come here again. I would never consider doing something bad to a customer’s food, but I wouldn’t feel bad about shitting in your pop glass. Do the World a favour, and go die.

Sincerely,

Drive Thru Guy

The Beep That Broke The Drive Thru Guy’s Back

Starting on the first of May each year, we have a freezer filled with many magical and delicious ice cream flavours and it’s a big hit. In fact, there’s a couple who comes through every day and orders two cones. One, with two scoops of vanilla, and the second, one scoop of chocolate chip cookie dough with the second scoop made of half chocolate and half strawberry. The second is a pain in the ass and a speed nightmare, but we’re here to please (usually).

So, two cars after the most condescending bitch I’ve ever dealt with and the debit machine in drive thru goes down.

The person collecting at the first window informs us of this situation over the headset so my boss tells me to hold the car at the speaker and heads to the debit machine to check out the problem. “Hi, I’ll be with you in a moment” I say. There’s no point in lining up a bunch of orders and THEN telling them our debit machine is down, it just makes for a big clusterfuck.

He has to reset the machine, and that doesn’t work so he gets another machine from front counter and hooks it up to try that. Now, this all takes time with the plugging and unplugging and rebooting, etc.

I can hear the driver that I’ve asked to wait talking to her passenger…. and to me. Based on the comments, I know that she knows I can hear her.

‘What the fuck is taking them so long?’

‘Jesus, they better have everything ready when we get there.’

‘I wonder if our food will be comped because they’ve been fucking around for so long in there.’

‘Fuck, what are they doing?’

It hasn’t been THAT long. Under four minutes, which clearly is WAY above our time goal, but it’s a technical problem, and not something we had control over. My boss comes up and tells me that the debit is down, he can’t fix it, so I’m to let the customer know and take the order.

As if by some form of all-knowing-asshole-magic the customer knew just at that moment… “UHHHH, FUCK, HELLO?”

I am livid at this point. “My debit machine just went down so it’ll be cash only, what can I get for you?” I bark, hoping they don’t have cash and will just fuck off.

She laughs a bit, likely impressed with her fat self that her comments have pissed me off and she can tell by my not so cheery voice. “Well get two of the two scoop cones, one with vanilla and the second with one scoop of cookie dough with the second scoop made of half chocolate and half straw-“

I cut her off “Yeah I know, I make it every day.”

She doesn’t seem so impressed anymore (I guess she shouldn’t have been being such a bitch) “Well can you wait until we get to the window to make it so it’s not all melted?”

Meanwhile, we’ve cleared all the cars and there is no one ahead of them “No, you’re the only car in line and it’s already made, pull up please.”

She doesn’t respond and pulls up. Someone else gives her the cones and she leaves. Will she be back tomorrow? I don’t know, or care. I think cunt is a very strong and generally inappropriate word for any circumstance, but she will forever be known as ‘the ice cream cunt’ in my mind.

A while later, after it slowed down a bit I was dwelling on these incidents and felt bad about the way I had spoken to the second customer. I told my boss that I had been rude to her because she was cursing over the speaker. He shrugged and said “I guess that fuckin’ cum junkie should learn some manners then, don’t worry about it.”  BEST BOSS EVER!

So there you have it, the tale of the two customers and the beep that broke the Drive Thru Guy’s back.

The Three Things Lady

I feel a rant coming on. I hope you find her as stupid as I did!

“Hi, how can I help you?”

No response.

A few seconds later, “Can I take your orer please?”

The testy reply came in a hartbeat this time, “Yeah, I need a minute.” Really? I never would have guessed! YOU COULD HAVE TOLD ME. I don’t ask twice to be impolite, some people are slow to roll their windows down, aren’t quite at the speaker yet, they need to take an additional three minutes to finish their phone call before acknowledging my existance (which is fine, I don’t have a job to do or anything… but that’s another rant for another day), etc. There’s multiple reasons for them to miss the first thing I ask, apparently being a rude bitch is also on the list.

“Alright let me know when you’re ready.” I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, Don’t pull up to the speaker if you’re not ready to order. Do you drive into the car wash with the windows rolled down?

I wait for a few seconds, and then I hear some mumbling from the car. I’m not sure if they were full blown words or not because I couldn’t make them out. I also didn’t detect a passenger or a cell phone. Usually I can tell if they’re talking to a passenger, and I can tell a cell phone based on the echo sound that comes through the car speakers. The complete one sided conversation which flows quicker than if they were talking to me is also a dead giveaway. Plus, it tends to make no sense from my side of things.

Based on the ‘my-mouth-is-full-of-some-kind-of-shit-sounds’ I was hearing, I wondered if it was time to get this show on the road, “Pardon me?”

“Uh yeah, I’m just trying to figure out what I want.” NO SHIT LADY! What’s the holdup? People in this line are starving, and it’s YOUR fault. Ok, so that last line may have been pushing it a bit, but pissed off people are always telling me ‘this isn’t rocket science’ and asking ‘how hard is it to take a fast food order?’ Not hard at all, HOW HARD IS IT TO PLACE ONE? C’mon lady, the drive thru is supposed to be fast.

“Oh, sorry, is there anything I can help you with?” I wasn’t trying to pressure her to hurry up before, but I was with that line, and it usually works like a charm.

It did! “I’ll have an order of chicken fingers and…” She trailed off, OH NO!

“Would you like dipping sauce?” I try to revive things quickly.

“What kinds do you have?” she asks. I walked into that one! I should have offered a popular choice rather than leaving this genius with a vague question. Actions like that make me seem like part of a story on the Dumbass News! (When you’re done here, check that out, you’ll be glad you did!)

I explain what we have, she eventually picks one, and I sense light at the end of the tunnel. “Was there anything else for today?”

“Yeah, I’ll have an order of fries.”

“Alright, and is that going to be everything?”

“Did I ask for 7-up?” Did I hear that right? Did you ask for 7-up? THIS FUCKING ORDER CONTAINS THREE ITEMS (assuming you want the pop and arent checking in case it’s an involuntary question you tend to ask) Do you have a bad case of some sort of weird and rare pop tourettes? AND YOU’RE ASKING ME IF YOU ORDERED A DRINK?

“No, did you want a drink today?”

“Oh, yes please.” Oh really, you did huh? Well, I can think of something that would have saved us both a FEW HUNDRED SECONDS. Usually in a fast food restuarant , a main item with a fry and a pop is something us ‘industry insiders’ call a GODDAMNED COMBO LADY. Furthermore, it shouldn’t take you four and a half fucking minutes to order one. Afterall, the drive thru is supposed to be fast! There, that feels better 😉

 

 

The Same Thing Lady

The first customer of the day for me today was not pleasant, to say the least. I began work at 11 am and we were having our usual lull between the breakfast and the lunch crowd. BEEP – my headset rings to alert me that there is a customer waiting to place an order. It’s not really a beep, but I can’t spell a word that describes the sound it makes.

“Hi, can I help you?” I start cheerfully.

“I’m going to take a few minutes if you don’t mind, to look at the menu.”

A couple of things are wrong with this already. First, yes I MIND, the drive thru is supposed to be quick and efficient. If you don’t know what you want, why did you pull up to the speaker? Second – A FEW MINUTES? Are you studying the menu for some fast food exam? A moment is annoying enough, but a few minutes? C’MON! There’s a timer in here and I have a job to do. I have to be polite though, “Alright, no rush, let me know when you’re ready.”

This lady MEANT a few minutes. For two and a half minutes I listen to back and forth chatter between her and her passenger. “Well, I want this, but I don’t know if it’s enough… Maybe I should get that… Or maybe this instead”… and on and on and on. You’re not in a focus group discussing ou menu here, and then FINALLY she starts placing her order. This was another two minute ordeal, which at some points included both passengers talking at the same time, neither seeming to be familiar with the menu at all. This is not an acceptable way to place an order, but I’ve been dealing with people like this on a daily basis forever, so we struggle through it and she proceeds up to the window.

The driver is a BIG lady, and I’m not one to judge, but she’s wearing a zip up hooded sweatshirt that says ‘police’ across the front. Yeah, right. What are you, the captain of the cheeseburger police? Ridding our planet of cheeseburgers five or six at a time? Obviously working overtime? As I’m giving her the order, I give her a tray filled with her drinks first. “And here are your colas for the combos and the juice for the kids meal.”

In what must have been her rudest tone “Uh yeah, we’re missing a juice.”

I normally never speak to a customer in a confrontational tone, but this fatty was pushing my buttons. I looked at the display screen that shows the order. “I only have one kids meal rang in here.”

With a sharp tone she replies “Yeah, well we ordered two.”

We have several different choices for kids meals. “Oh, must be my mistake then.” (For the record, I don’t think it was, but what can ya do?)

“Yeah because we ordered two.” Thanks, I got that the first time you said it, 12 seconds ago. “I’ll get you what you ordered, which kids meal was it?”

“Same thing!” she snaps. Oh man, it’s all I can do to restrain myself from yelling into the kitchen, ‘I screwed up  and I need a SAME THING over here.’  I instead go into the kitchen and advise the employees that I need another kids meal made the same way as the last one.

Once I have the kids meal I bring it to her with a smile. This ray of sunshine glares up at me “There’s no tomato on my chicken sandwich right?”

DID YOU ORDER NO TOMATO? If that’s what you ordered, then that’s what I rang in. Unfortunately, I LEFT MY X-RAY GLASSES AT HOME AND I CAN SEE THROUGH THAT BAG ABOUT AS WELL AS YOU CAN. I didn’t personally make the sandwich, nor do I have time to watch everything the kitchen does. I look to the screen, it says no tomato, “Nope, that’s what I rang it, so no tomato on your sandwich!”

I hope there were two tomatoes on that sandwich.