the unity against hated coworkers and customer appreciation month
January is Customer Appreciation Month for the pizza place I work at. Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, 4-8 PM: buy one get one free. The month's just started so it's not too bad yet, though my boyfriend doesn't say the words 'customer appreciation month' without shuddering and one of the other drivers-who-works-counter-sometimes has told me horror stories. I am one of two people who are working every single day of Customer Appreciation Month, at least this first week, and I'm pretty sure I made a suicide pact with the other one last night.
Last night wouldn't have been so bad. Started out kind of slow, actually: nothing really happened until about five-forty-five or six. We got a little rush, but, you know: supper rush is gonna happen. Not too bad. Wouldn't have been too bad.
There's one kid who works there that is universally hated. He's got the unfortunate combination of being utterly lazy and not doing anything mixed with an awful personality. I can handle someone who doesn't want to do shit if I can at least talk to them while I do everything, but this kid is just plain awful. Our best bonding sessions as coworkers come with our twenty minutes of bitching about this kid. He doesn't do shit. He always wants to leave early. He steals tips. He's got awful handwriting (this is mostly a driver complaint but everyone's had to deal with it, whether that be kitchen trying to decipher his tickets or us on counter trying to figure out what fucking table this goes to) and gets pissy when you ask him what the fuck he wrote down.
He put in his two weeks Tuesday and I swear to god that night we had a fucking party. Last night, though, not only did he fucking disappear constantly during the fucking rush for fucking minutes at a time, I heard that he might not actually be leaving. Which just killed all my happiness. Might have to confirm that suicide pact if that's the case, because Jesus this fucking kid.
Tonight shouldn't be so bad--four counters, one of them the most efficient closer in the world, one of them the second- or third-most efficient closer in the world, and one of them a kid I get along with pretty well, so even if we get slammed I won't be tempted to throw myself down the basement stairs, but Jesus fucking Christ.
Last night wouldn't have been so bad. Started out kind of slow, actually: nothing really happened until about five-forty-five or six. We got a little rush, but, you know: supper rush is gonna happen. Not too bad. Wouldn't have been too bad.
There's one kid who works there that is universally hated. He's got the unfortunate combination of being utterly lazy and not doing anything mixed with an awful personality. I can handle someone who doesn't want to do shit if I can at least talk to them while I do everything, but this kid is just plain awful. Our best bonding sessions as coworkers come with our twenty minutes of bitching about this kid. He doesn't do shit. He always wants to leave early. He steals tips. He's got awful handwriting (this is mostly a driver complaint but everyone's had to deal with it, whether that be kitchen trying to decipher his tickets or us on counter trying to figure out what fucking table this goes to) and gets pissy when you ask him what the fuck he wrote down.
He put in his two weeks Tuesday and I swear to god that night we had a fucking party. Last night, though, not only did he fucking disappear constantly during the fucking rush for fucking minutes at a time, I heard that he might not actually be leaving. Which just killed all my happiness. Might have to confirm that suicide pact if that's the case, because Jesus this fucking kid.
Tonight shouldn't be so bad--four counters, one of them the most efficient closer in the world, one of them the second- or third-most efficient closer in the world, and one of them a kid I get along with pretty well, so even if we get slammed I won't be tempted to throw myself down the basement stairs, but Jesus fucking Christ.
Comments
Post a Comment