Well, I’m staying at a buddy’s house for a couple of days for a mini vacation in a neighboring city, actually just outside in the country, which is so awesome. No other people around for miles, the weather is absolutely perfect, plenty of entertainment with all of his ATVs, go carts, dirt bike, you name it. The shitty thing is he had to take a job on a moment’s notice. He’s a self employed private contractor and had a slow season last year, so, regretfully, he had to leave this afternoon for a great paying days worth of work, though will be back tomorrow. Hell, I can’t blame him after he told me how much he’s going to pull in for about sixteen actual physical hours of labor; more than I take home in a fucking month. Good for him though, kudos!
Anyways, he told me to just hang out and do whatever I felt like and he’d see me tomorrow early afternoon. I thought about hopping on an ATV and just go cruising around on the countryside for a while, but figure it wouldn’t be nearly as fun alone. Plus with my luck I’d flip it and break my neck, become paralyzed, and be slowly eaten alive by fire ants with no one knowing where I went or what happened, minus the missing ATV. I decided to mow the lawn instead; took four hours, but I loved it, and now, a bit later, here I am, bored, sipping on some beers. I might as well throw down a story before I prepare supper and probably pass out on the couch pretty soon.
Since I last posted, much has remained uneventful at work. I ended up accepting a decent raise in pay and just figured I’d put up with the stupidity until I absolutely couldn’t stand it anymore, and then just walk out. I’m not ever giving a notice of termination again, just will quietly leave on a smoke break. For as much as I’ve been fucked with here, it’s the least I can do to return the favor. Having that attitude tucked away in my brain has actually helped me “cope” with the day to day episodes of sheer disgust I am witness to. It alleviates some of the stress thinking I can choose to be done at any given moment and it will crush my co-workers as we are so short staffed that it’s ridiculous.
We’ve had three cooks start and quit all since the last time I posted. That’s pretty damn incredible, I think. One was excellent and caught on quickly and the other two were complete garbage. So I only regret losing that one, but he was obviously too smart and realized this place sucked right off the bat. I am surprised the other two didn’t plant roots as that would be on par, but nope, thank God.
Anyhow, before I keep rambling any longer, there is a decent story which occurred a couple of weeks ago and it involves my most hated nemesis of this shithole. It’s that idiot front of the house manager who shoved that pasta in my face. He still only pulls one shift per month though is in here at least once a week to leech his free meals, and normally bitches about something.
I was working with the one cook I actually like during an afternoon shift. We had an easy special which was basically a doctored up burrito. Everything was in the cold and steam tables so they were super quick to make and being it was a “special”, people were ordering it like it was prime rib. I never get that; you run specials and people will order it no matter what. It’s not like its cheaper, at least not at this place, and it’s generally shit we need to get rid of before it spoils. Eh, whatever.
Anyways, the orders were fairly mild and we were just finishing up a late lunch. We were serving those burritos like crazy, which again is awesome because they are fast and easy to prepare. It was a great day because I actually had competent help for a change. God forbid I have a perfect shift though.
Right on cue, here comes captain ass face manager, in street clothes because, of course, he’s not working, back into the kitchen with his plate of food in his hand. Jesus fucking Christ, what the hell does this cock sucker want this time? I honestly don’t think I’ve ever disliked any one person as much as I loathe this waste of air.
He slams, yes slams his plate down into the pass window. He looks pissed as hell, which I fucking LOVE to see as that instantly makes me happier no matter what my mood is. He says, like an arrogant asshole prick, “Can either of you tell me what is wrong with MY burrito?” I look it over, my partner in crime has a viewing, and I reply, “Nope because it’s perfect. Should take a picture of it and put it on the menu.” My cohort chuckles as we give this dick not one single ounce of respect. Remember, I don’t give a shit anymore, I’ll just leave. God, I love my new attitude!
This retard gives me the dirtiest look and say, “Oh, I forgot your old job was being a comedian!” Shut up dummy, that’s not even remotely an insult, especially coming from you. I say back, “I wasn’t joking, it looks beautiful!” My buddy spurts out, “Yeah, it does look delicious!” Fuck, I love this guy more and more every day. The parasitic manager replies, “That may be, but it has TOMATOES on it!” I say, “Yup, it’s supposed to…” as he cuts me off, “I’m allergic to tomatoes! You guys should know that by now!” Holy shit, now I’m pissed.
First of all, fuck you. Second of all, fuck you again and drop dead. Thirdly, how the hell are we supposed to know that you’re allergic to tomatoes? Fourthly, fuck off and eat a bag of hell. I say, “I don’t remember any tickets that requested no tomatoes on any items. Who was your server?” He tells me that’s not important and to fix MY mistake. Fuck that, I’m making sure we weren’t wrong, because, although it does happen on rare occasions, I know there wasn’t any tickets with this specification, and I’m not making another one until he is the person taking blame for this wasted food.
I grab a handful of orders out of the little basket they go in when finished and ask him what table number he is at. He tells me and I place the ticket in the window for his viewing pleasure. I also call over the waitress and politely ask her if she forgot to place this stipulation on said ticket. She replies while looking at him, “I had no idea you had a tomato allergy, though I don’t recall you telling me that. I’m really sorry. I must not have heard you.”
I start getting a little bummed out because I was counting on this to be the eight hour a month manager’s fault, but that’s okay if she didn’t hear him, it’s understandable plus she’s a sweetheart. Dick licker states that he did not say anything because, not shitting you, “After five years of working here, I can’t believe no one knows that I’m allergic to tomatoes. I am a customer just as much as I am an employee!” The waitress gets upset, turns and walks away.
FUCK THAT! You complete piece of trash! Who do you think you are?! You shouldn’t even be considered an employee, or a customer for that matter. You don’t ever PAY for anything and do nothing positive for this business by having it serve you. You are a freeloading sponge, and a prick asshole to boot.
I begin to come unglued. I snap at him, though still in a semi calm manner, “None of us here can read your mind. You need to explain these things rather than EXPECT any of us to magically know, just like a CUSTOMER would need to do. We’ll make you another one right away and have someone bring it out.” He is so lucky that’s all I said. Visions of the back door began floating throughout my head. Come on, do it! Crush this slimy twit and just leave! Nope, can’t do it, though am glad I still considered the option.
He says, “Thank you, it’s not that big of a deal.” YOU are the one who made it a big deal by being a pompous fucktard, you know, you’re overall personality. How hard would it have been to actually treat us like human beings and instead said, “Hey guys. I forgot to tell the waitress I didn’t want tomatoes because I’m allergic to them. Can I get another one please?” I would have been like, “No problem! Don’t go anywhere because I can have a new one in twenty seconds for you!” Badda bing badda boom! Easy! But noooooooo! So once again, you look like a shithead, and most importantly, were once again proven to be wrong and the one at fault. When will this douche bag learn?
He leaves the kitchen and now both of us cooks are fuming. The other cook tells me that we shouldn’t even make him another one. I agree but say to just make it and be done with it. What happens next makes me basically worship my co-worker from that point on.
He asks me to throw him a tortilla shell. What? Why would I do that, they are right next to him. I say to him, “Huh?” He replies that he can’t reach them. What the hell? Alright, he’s just goofing around and I smile, walk over, grab a shell and hand it to him. He won’t take it. He says, “No throw it to me, you know, like a Frisbee.” Still confused, I take a few steps back and toss it like a disk. He throws his hands up in the air and lets it hit him in the chest. It falls to the floor and he places his boot directly down upon it with a loud stomp! He picks it up while saying, “Whoops!”, and proceeds to make the manager’s burrito! Holy shit, this is too epic! I am literally crying tears of sweet laughter and justice!
I could NEVER do that, EVER. No matter whom it was for, under any circumstance. I just couldn’t bring myself to fuck with anyone’s food, even an enemy such as that manager. However, in this case, I will not say one fucking word about this situation to anyone else at work. In another post I explained to you that I did “narc” on a co-worker years ago for spitting on paying customers’ food, because that’s atrocious, but not for this. Call it a double standard if you want. I don’t care. You all can call me a piece of shit and refuse to read this blog from here on out if you choose to do so, but I was ECSTATIC that this was taking place. Fuck I love that guy.
The burrito goes out, now without tomatoes, though a bit extra added from the bottom of his boot and the floor, I’m sure. He watches the dishwashing station like a hawk because he wants to make sure the manager eats it. Sure as shit, the plate eventually comes back clean. Ah, it’s going to be a good day after all, all thanks to you my friend. To add additional insult, I ask the manager on duty to make sure she tells the leech to initial the waste sheet before he leaves because it was his and only his fault. She said she sure would. Supposedly he started arguing with her about how he shouldn’t have to do that because he’s a customer that day. Cry more you big baby. She wisely reminded him that he was using a manager’s perk, so it still falls under an employee error. Ha-ha, suck it nerd!
Minutes later, he comes slouching back, heads to the sheet, and jots something down. When he leaves I go over to witness his ultimate submission. He wrote down the items, but where we’re supposed to initial, instead of his, are different letters that do not coincide with his name. I ask around who has these initials and we find out it’s the waitress who took his order. What a despicable low life piece of garbage. I completely black out that line with a marker and write his name, item, date, time, and initials all in capital letters. I leave a snide comment in the “reason” section, hoping to further degrade said manager. I can’t wait until he sees it, though he probably never will because the sheet will be gone by the time he actually pulls another shift, you know, about a month from now.
Fast forward to present time. The sheet is now gone and another in its place. I still have yet to see him working or eating, though I’m sure he still comes in to grab his free meals. He has access to this sheet as a manager, but I can’t see him ever looking at it as he’s just a dildo bottom feeder who cares only for his complimentary dinners and self-righteous status.
With my new and improved attitude, I welcome many more confrontations with this dickhole. I still do my job to the best of my ability and treat everyone with respect, so long as it’s returned. Everyone really likes me, especially the server staff. I finally have given myself the right to be verbal should the need arise, rather than clamming up and just taking the abuse as before. It’s just now I have given myself an out, which I feel is completely justifiable.
Anyways, this was a long one. Thanks for reading it if you happened to make it the whole way through. I’ll try to compile some more tales from the grill (hmmm, maybe I should rename this blog to that) when I get home. Until next time, in another day in the life of a line cook.
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