This Newest Instruction Is Getting Old

, , , , | Working | February 5, 2018

(We take pictures of the labels of some of our inventory for product tracking reasons. This happens when I am first learning how to track inventory.)

Manager: *lists some of our products*

Me: “And it’s just for those products?”

Manager: “No, do all of them.”

Me: “All of them? I thought it was only for some of them.”

Manager: “Do all of them.”

Me: “Well, I don’t know how I’m going to get to all the boxes without pulling a bunch of stuff out of the freezer.”

Manager: “Why would you need to pull anything out?”

Me: “Because there are plenty of boxes buried under boxes and I can’t see the labels.”

Manager: “Like what?!”

Me: “Most of the beef, the fries—”

Manager: “Why would you need the beef? You don’t do the beef.”

Me: “Oooookay. And the fries?”

Manager: “…or the fries. Just the ones I told you.”

Me: “So, not all of them.”

Manager: “No. Just the ones I told you about.”

(She lists them. It’s nowhere near all our inventory.)

Me: “All right. Got it. That’s what I thought. So, when you say all of them, do you mean all the boxes for those products?”

Manager: “No. Just the newest one.”

Me: “The newest one? I thought it was supposed to be the oldest one.”

Manager: “The newest one.”

Me: “Okay. So, just to clarify–“

Manager: “The newest one.”

Me: “Okay. So–“

Manager: “The newest one! The newest one!”

(I am still extremely skeptical at this point, as everything I’ve been told in the past indicates otherwise, and my manager has a habit of telling me the wrong information.)

Me: “Yes. So, if I look at the expiration date, it should be the one that expires last.”

Manager: “…”

Me: “And not the one that expires first?”

Manager: “The newest one.”

Me: “Oooookay.”

(I collect what I will need and am just about to head out the door when…)

Manager: “So, remember: it’s the next one we’re going to use.”

Me: “So, the oldest one. Got it.”

(Yes, it was the oldest one.)

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In For A Penny…

, , , , , | Right | February 5, 2018

(Working at a meat counter, I have long since come to terms with the fact that many apparently functional adults have no idea what a pound is, or a kilogram, either, for that matter, but this episode stands out in my memory. The customer looks to be about 25 or so.)

Customer: “What does 200 grams of ground chicken look like?”

Me: *puts some ground chicken in a bag and weighs it* “This is 220 grams.”

Customer: “Oh, no. I wanted pounds.”

Me: “Okay, sure. How many pounds? Two?”

Customer: “No, two hundred.”

Me: “You want 200 pounds of ground chicken.”

Customer: *with absolute conviction* “Yes.”

Me: *long pause* “Okay. Well, we don’t have that much in the store. We can probably order it in for you, but it’ll be a few days.”

Customer: *gets confused look* “What? Wait. How much is a pound?”

Me: *holds up same bag of chicken* “This is half a pound.”

Customer: “Oh! No, I’ll have two pounds, then.”

Me: “Two pounds, I can do.”

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The Confusing Battle Between Light And Dark

, , , , , | Working | February 5, 2018

(I am pre-opening for the first time by myself, not because I’m ready, but because the coworker who was supposed to do it didn’t show up, without any warning or explanation. So, when I arrive for the beginning of my shift, five minutes before we open, I’m struggling to get the over half-an-hour’s worth of work that I am still unfamiliar with finished a quickly as possible. One of the jobs is filtering the oil in the fryers, which I’m actually fairly confident I know how to do. However, I still haven’t been able to figure out how to tell which ones need to be filtered. But I remember one piece of advice my manager told me previously.)

Manager: *previously* “The lighter color in the oil means more sugar. More sugar means it’s older.”

(My manager eventually shows up and we can open.)

Manager: “[My Name], why did you filter this oil?”

Me: “Well, I wasn’t really sure which one to do until I remembered you saying that the lighter color means there’s lot of sugar in it.”

Manager: “WHAT?! Who told you that?! The lighter color means it’s new. Filtering the new oil makes it dirtier.”

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. So, the darker oil is the old oil?”

Manager: “What?! No! You see this color here?” *she directs me over to the fryers* “See, the lighter color means there’s lots of sugar in it, and that means it’s older.”

Me: “But I filtered the lightest one, and you just said that was the new oil.”

Manager: “No. Look. You see how the color is darker now than before you filtered it?”

Me: “Yes.”

Manager: “When it’s that light color, it means it’s new.”

Me: “So… New oil is light, and then it gets dark with use, and then it gets lighter from sugar?”

Manager: “What?”

Me: “So, I should filter the lightest one that’s not almost clear? So, the second lightest one?”

Manager: “What?! No! You filter the lightest one.”

Me: “I did filter the lightest one. You said that was the wrong one.”

Manager: “Because it was new oil. You can tell it’s new because of the lighter color.”

Me: “Okay, [Manager].”

(I spoke to my supervisor later, as well as a coworker more familiar with the kitchen. They both assured me that older oil is darker oil and I could just ignore anything my manager said to the contrary. And the coworker that skipped off work on a whim? He went on to do it repeatedly, at least once every week. For this behavior, he was – no, not fired – promoted.)

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Who Needs A Soap With This Kind Of Drama

, , , , , , , | Related | February 4, 2018

(While attending post-secondary school, I share an apartment with two of my cousins, one of whom attends a different school. My program is only two years, while hers is four, so immediately after I complete my program, I have to travel away for a job. As I’m not totally moving, I keep paying my share of the rent, so I can have a room to come home to when I have days off from the job. I am at the apartment for perhaps ten days over a three-month period, May to July. My aunt, my cousins’ mom, has come to visit for a few days, in July. The apartment is a complete and utter disaster; there is a horrific fruit fly infestation and mold on dishes waiting by the sink. It’s disgusting. I am in town, as well.)

Aunt: “[Cousins #1 & #2]! This is a complete pigsty! How did it get like this? Have you guys not been doing your chores at all?”

Cousin #1: “Well, I’ve been too busy with school. I was so behind on so many assignments! My professor gave me a summer extension.”

Cousin #2: “It wasn’t my turn to do the dishes.”

Aunt: “Well, whose turn was it?”

Cousin #2: “It was [My Name]’s!”

Aunt: “But hasn’t [My Name] been away for work since May?”

Cousin #2: “Well, yes, but—”

Aunt: “So, you haven’t done any dishes since she left?”

Cousin #2: “But it was her turn!”

Aunt: “Were the dishes done before she left?”

Cousin #1: “Yes, because it was my turn before her.”

Aunt: “So, what you’re saying is that you used dishes, cooked, and so on, and left the dirty dishes for [My Name] to clean up, even though she wasn’t actually living here, and kept piling them up, waiting for her to come do them, because it was her turn?”

Cousins: “Yes!”

Aunt: “SOAP. GLOVES. NOW.”

(It was a huge relief to have them put in their place. They are wonderful girls, but it was absolutely ridiculous that they somehow expected me to be responsible for cleaning up after them when I wasn’t even living in the apartment. One cousin had to do all dishes, while I helped the other scrub out the cupboard to get rid of the fruit flies. Tip: apple cider vinegar will draw them. I now have a major sensitivity to fruit flies, and deep-clean my own house anytime even one shows up.)

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Brush That Request Aside

, , , | Friendly | February 4, 2018

(I have a medium-sized makeup collection which naturally includes makeup brushes. I saved up for two years to be able to collect every brush I need to apply my makeup, like specific eye brushes and things like that. All of my brushes are pretty expensive — none of them cost below 18 dollars — hence the time it took to create my collection. Also, being a high school student in my last year, I’ve mostly been saving up from my job and allowance. I sort of justified spending a lot on them because you should only have to buy them once and not again and again. My friend, however, uses cheaper brushes from dollar stores or online. One day, she asks me this:)

Friend: “You know, for [cosmetology class], I’m kind of embarrassed bringing in my old brushes.”

(In our cosmetology class, there are many times where we learn to apply our own makeup with different techniques, and sometimes we do facials, so afterwards we have to put on our makeup again. I’ve already done the class, but my friend just went in.)

Me: *joking* “Just hide and do it in the corner then.”

Friend: “Yeah, but I was wondering if you, like… wanted to switch our brushes for a week?”

Me: *giving her a non-believing look* “Um, really?”

Friend: “I was thinking of it for a long time. It would be fun!”

Me: “No. First of all, you know how long it took me to collect all of my brushes. Second of all, I would have to wash them before I lent them to you, and after again!”

Friend: *shocked* “I can’t believe that you would say no! I would’ve lent mine to you.”

Me: “Well, yours are more… cheap. I’m not lending mine; maybe you should have saved up for yours, too.”

Friend: “I can’t believe you. I would’ve lent mine to you for however long you wanted!”

(She then stormed off. I know that she likes my brushes, but I actually spent a lot on them; I’m not just going to hand them over for a “week.”)

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