Thursday, April 3, 2008
My workplace scares me. A lot.
I continue to be plagued by high school robots and cheerleaders, but whereas before, it was mostly the girl robots and cheerleaders who were being and saying stupid things, an unsettling new trend is on the horizon. The boys seem to be coming from behind, trying their damndest to take the title. I don’t even know. But they’re dumb.
Por Exemplo:
1. A boy walks up to the counter and decides to maximize his jackassery by giving me hand signals to help describe to me what he is seeking, which was cheese bread. Which by the way, we have not made since the start of summer. When we did make it, it was made like a pizza, cut into triangles. So this boy, who has his hair bleached the color of a wet floor sign, starts doing some kind of strange robot/stroke/i’m choking on my own vomit hand gestures which were, I suppose, meant to indicate cheese bread.
At this point, I say to Kailey, "what the HELL was that?" The boy then says something blah blah, GOOD GODFREY! blah blah, JUST BECAUSE I’M IN HIGH SCHOOL DOESN’T MEAN I’M DUMB."
Oh you foolish little ass...I beg to differ.
Some other random boys. These boys come in EVERY day, I am not kidding. They run from the front door all 4-year-old like and push and shove each other around causing mayhem and confusion while they wait. Well, sometime between the time they order their lunch and the next day, the hard drive is erased and they seem to have forgotten everything about their previous experiences. So they decide to ask us how much Orange Chicken is. To hell with the fact that they have eaten it every day since 9th grade, to hell with the fact that the prices are CLEARLY posted. It’s a brand new day for these genuises.
They ask,"how much is orange chicken?" Kailey and I proceed to tell them it is $200 per pound. Which of course leaves them speechless while their ears send this information slowly to their overworked brains. Then, because Kailey and I are such nice girls and are never mean or sarcastic to these particular boys, their brains send back the signal that of course, this must be true. That’s right, they believed. I should have told them to drink the "magic" kool-aid.
Gymnasts. All of them.
Earlier in the week one of my least favorite frequent fliers, BOBO, came in. She is actually called Bobo 2, but that’s a different story. So anyway, Bobo comes in, rides her cart over to the deli where I am putting chicken into the hot case. Now, only fresh chicken goes into the hot case. Dur. We fry it, then bring it up front on a cart, and throw it in the hot case.
Bobo, being the annoying tool she is, asks me, "do you have any FRESH chicken?" Well, i don’t know, Bobo, is 3000 degrees and still SCREAMING from the indignities of being breaded and fried FRESH enough for you?
She gets a 10-piece and proceeds to motor away, presumably to annoy someone else, but alas, it isn’t long before she is back to bother me again by making me walk up to the front to hand her a soda cup, although all our cups are where customers can help themselves and she could have reached her own had she been willing to I don't know, stand up from the electric cart she is riding around the store.
She can walk fine, I have seen her do it one day when someone WHO COULDN'T WALK had the carts, but she will ride the cart if she can, which makes me mad because I have seen several people that seriously could barely walk but they were walking because BoBo, who can walk as well as I can was hogging up the cart. She's like a little kid. I did not see her again that day, but something tells me i haven’t seen the back of her. And that something is the fact that i see her damn near every day.
Some stupid man. Our special on Monday was Chicken Fajitas. We fixed one up and cut it in bite size pieces and set it on the counter so our awesome and super smart customers could sample it if they were so inclined. Why? I don’t know, all it did was provide a forum for more questions. Not a good move.
Anyway, said stupid man walks up, asks what the special is, is told what the special is, again, in full view of a "TODAYS SPECIAL" sign. After being told what the special is, he asks if these samples are of the special. We say yes. He asks, "is it good?" When informed that he is more than welcome to try the samples to see if in fact, it is good, he gets a look on his face like we had informed him we had just killed a kitten. He managed an amazing I’m going to cry/puke/i just peed on my shoes look. I couldn’t help myself, I was quite fascinated with his facial expression. In the end he decided he would just get the special, without even trying it. I feel I have to give him points for keeping Kristi and myself fully occupied for at least 5 minutes. Well played, sir. Well played.
The point thus far? Boys are dumb.
In other deli news, Jessica our Princess of Pirate Whore Island manager had her baby last week. At home. In her bathtub. With her other six kids watching.
Then she brought the baby to Lee’s to visit the next morning when the baby was 10 hours old. In the winter. With her husband(who is not the babydaddy).
The new baby’s name is Destini Rose. I am pretty sure she is going to have to start stripping as soon as legally possible. In fact, I might buy her a teeny pair of pasties and a little baby pole, just to move along what is pretty much inevitable given her name.
All this and my hell, it’s only Wednesday. How did my life end up like this?
Por Exemplo:
1. A boy walks up to the counter and decides to maximize his jackassery by giving me hand signals to help describe to me what he is seeking, which was cheese bread. Which by the way, we have not made since the start of summer. When we did make it, it was made like a pizza, cut into triangles. So this boy, who has his hair bleached the color of a wet floor sign, starts doing some kind of strange robot/stroke/i’m choking on my own vomit hand gestures which were, I suppose, meant to indicate cheese bread.
At this point, I say to Kailey, "what the HELL was that?" The boy then says something blah blah, GOOD GODFREY! blah blah, JUST BECAUSE I’M IN HIGH SCHOOL DOESN’T MEAN I’M DUMB."
Oh you foolish little ass...I beg to differ.
Some other random boys. These boys come in EVERY day, I am not kidding. They run from the front door all 4-year-old like and push and shove each other around causing mayhem and confusion while they wait. Well, sometime between the time they order their lunch and the next day, the hard drive is erased and they seem to have forgotten everything about their previous experiences. So they decide to ask us how much Orange Chicken is. To hell with the fact that they have eaten it every day since 9th grade, to hell with the fact that the prices are CLEARLY posted. It’s a brand new day for these genuises.
They ask,"how much is orange chicken?" Kailey and I proceed to tell them it is $200 per pound. Which of course leaves them speechless while their ears send this information slowly to their overworked brains. Then, because Kailey and I are such nice girls and are never mean or sarcastic to these particular boys, their brains send back the signal that of course, this must be true. That’s right, they believed. I should have told them to drink the "magic" kool-aid.
Gymnasts. All of them.
Earlier in the week one of my least favorite frequent fliers, BOBO, came in. She is actually called Bobo 2, but that’s a different story. So anyway, Bobo comes in, rides her cart over to the deli where I am putting chicken into the hot case. Now, only fresh chicken goes into the hot case. Dur. We fry it, then bring it up front on a cart, and throw it in the hot case.
Bobo, being the annoying tool she is, asks me, "do you have any FRESH chicken?" Well, i don’t know, Bobo, is 3000 degrees and still SCREAMING from the indignities of being breaded and fried FRESH enough for you?
She gets a 10-piece and proceeds to motor away, presumably to annoy someone else, but alas, it isn’t long before she is back to bother me again by making me walk up to the front to hand her a soda cup, although all our cups are where customers can help themselves and she could have reached her own had she been willing to I don't know, stand up from the electric cart she is riding around the store.
She can walk fine, I have seen her do it one day when someone WHO COULDN'T WALK had the carts, but she will ride the cart if she can, which makes me mad because I have seen several people that seriously could barely walk but they were walking because BoBo, who can walk as well as I can was hogging up the cart. She's like a little kid. I did not see her again that day, but something tells me i haven’t seen the back of her. And that something is the fact that i see her damn near every day.
Some stupid man. Our special on Monday was Chicken Fajitas. We fixed one up and cut it in bite size pieces and set it on the counter so our awesome and super smart customers could sample it if they were so inclined. Why? I don’t know, all it did was provide a forum for more questions. Not a good move.
Anyway, said stupid man walks up, asks what the special is, is told what the special is, again, in full view of a "TODAYS SPECIAL" sign. After being told what the special is, he asks if these samples are of the special. We say yes. He asks, "is it good?" When informed that he is more than welcome to try the samples to see if in fact, it is good, he gets a look on his face like we had informed him we had just killed a kitten. He managed an amazing I’m going to cry/puke/i just peed on my shoes look. I couldn’t help myself, I was quite fascinated with his facial expression. In the end he decided he would just get the special, without even trying it. I feel I have to give him points for keeping Kristi and myself fully occupied for at least 5 minutes. Well played, sir. Well played.
The point thus far? Boys are dumb.
In other deli news, Jessica our Princess of Pirate Whore Island manager had her baby last week. At home. In her bathtub. With her other six kids watching.
Then she brought the baby to Lee’s to visit the next morning when the baby was 10 hours old. In the winter. With her husband(who is not the babydaddy).
The new baby’s name is Destini Rose. I am pretty sure she is going to have to start stripping as soon as legally possible. In fact, I might buy her a teeny pair of pasties and a little baby pole, just to move along what is pretty much inevitable given her name.
All this and my hell, it’s only Wednesday. How did my life end up like this?
// posted by ~tracy~ @ 5:55 PM 
Comments:
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I know you think my kids are funny.But I beg to differ. You my dear cousin are hysterical!!! Just my brand of sarcasm. I had to go pee in the middle of reading that so I didn't have to sit in a puddle.
I am sure Amy's comment will go somethig like this about poor Destiny. "does that name come with a pole?" Thanks for the laughs. Good luck with the stupid boys. My 12 year old seems to be working towards that goal.
I am sure Amy's comment will go somethig like this about poor Destiny. "does that name come with a pole?" Thanks for the laughs. Good luck with the stupid boys. My 12 year old seems to be working towards that goal.
Hi Tracy...I followed you over from Amy's blog.
I don't think I have laughed this hard all week. Thanks! Congrats on making it to Friday!
I don't think I have laughed this hard all week. Thanks! Congrats on making it to Friday!
I should not have read that at work! I've got tears streaming down my face. It's a good thing I'm alone in my office right now.
I truly believe the Health Department ought to just send out poles when they receive the birth certificate info on babies with names like that. Seriously people! You are dooming your sweet innocent baby to a career as a stripper or waitress at Hooters.
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I truly believe the Health Department ought to just send out poles when they receive the birth certificate info on babies with names like that. Seriously people! You are dooming your sweet innocent baby to a career as a stripper or waitress at Hooters.
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