It’s An Ill Bird That Fouls Its Own Nest

(I’m working alone with my manager one night about 10 minutes before we close. I hear the fryers react as though something’s been dropped in. It’s summer, so we have all the doors and windows open, but the kitchen has none so I am confused. I go to check, and find a bird seems to have fallen in.)

Me: “[Manager], are you free? Can you come here a second?”

Manager: *walking in* “What is it?”

Me: *I point out the bird* “We need to change the oil.”

Manager: “Seriously? It’s 10 minutes before close. We’ll be here an extra half hour if we do it now!”

Me: “It has to be done.”

(The manager huffs, then fishes the deep-fried bird out with a pair of tongs and throws it in the bin.)

Manager: “Sorted. You can clean it out tomorrow.”

Me: “I’m off until Thursday.” *it’s currently Monday*

Manager: *getting annoyed* “Do it Thursday, then!”

Me: “You want to leave the fryers for three days with oil that bird has been in?”

Manager: “The heat will kill off the germs. Don’t worry about it.”

(And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the story of how I quit my first job.)