Ask Me No Questions, I’ll Sell You No Fries

| Scotland, UK | Working | October 4, 2013

(I work at a well-known fast food restaurant. I have a colleague who works in the kitchen and over the past few weeks has been turning up late, drunk and just generally always has a foul attitude. I am working on the tills.)

Me: “I’ll just find out how long that’ll be for you, sir.”

Customer: “Thanks, that’ll be really helpful. I have a train to catch soon.”

Me: “No problem at all, sir.”

(I turn to the kitchen and talk to my colleague.)

Me: “Sorry about the inconvenience, but would you be able to tell me how long—”

Colleague: “STOP ASKING HOW LONG THINGS WILL BE!”

Me: “Sorry, I know it’s frustrating for you but—”

Colleague: “STOP ASKING HOW LONG THINGS WILL BE!”

Me: “Okay, I understand you’re under a lot of stress, but a customer would like to know how long his order will take.”

Colleague: “How difficult is it to just STOP ASKING HOW LONG THINGS WILL BE?”

Me: *to customer* “I’m terribly sorry, sir, but my colleague is refusing to tell me how long your order will take.”

Customer: “Don’t worry about it; thanks for all your help anyway.”

(A few minutes later, the order is ready, and I hand it to the customer.)

Customer: “Thanks so much for your amazing service today; don’t let that b**** get you down.”

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