We have a new guy who was an hour and a half late the first day. He was brought in by his mum, which I thought was kinda odd for a grown man (he’s twenty-six). I let that slide but then things just got worse.
We work in a small roadside cafe/eatery, so I thought I’d get him started on small duties to ease him into the way of the place.
Me: “Can you put new toilet paper in the toilets?”
A minute or so later I hear him yelling:
New Starter: “[My Naaaaaame!], it won’t fit on the toilet roll holder!”
I tell him to bring it to me so I can show him; he’s carrying a roll of paper towel; it’s almost three times the length of the toilet roll holder.
Me: “Clive, that is a paper towel.”
New Starter: “No, it’s not.”
Me: “Yes, it is! Have you ever seen toilet paper that big in your life?”
New Starter: “Uh… no.”
Me: “Right, furthermore, and probably more perplexing – can you not see that this massive roll couldn’t possibly fit on this small bar?”
New Starter: “Yeah, I thought that was odd.”
Oh boy…
The day goes on and after the kitchen is pretty much closed except for pre-cooked baked goods, I get him to give it a general clean and ask to make sure he wipes down all the benches. I leave him to it as I assume he’s doing fine.
One of the other staff comes out.
Other Staff: “We’ve run out of toilet paper.”
Me: “What? That’s not possible.”
Sure enough, all the packs are torn open and empty except for the rolls on the holders. At this stage, I realize there can only be one culprit, and call Clive over.
Me: “Did you do something with the toilet paper?”
What is with this guy and toilet paper?
New Starter: “Yes, I used it to wipe down the benches in the kitchen.”
Me: “You used eight rolls of toilet paper to wipe down the benches in the kitchen?! Why are you using toilet paper to wipe down benches?”
New Starter: “I don’t like using the dishcloth.”
Me: “Who taught you to wipe down benches with toilet paper? Have you ever seen anyone wipe down benches with toilet paper?”
New Starter: “The cloth was dirty, and I didn’t want to clean it out.”
By this stage I’m thinking, the day is nearly over, just let it go and I’m sure it will work out fine…
I get him on serving customers pastries and the like because all you have to do is take it out of the glass bay, put it on a plate, and give it to them – he doesn’t even have to ring it up – just pop on the plate and give it out.
One of the customers orders three scones with jam and cream. He’s behind the counter doing his thing and I have a little peek and see, yes, he’s cut them in half and managed to put jam and cream on them. About a minute later the customer brings the scones back up to the counter:
Customer: “There’s something really hard in these scones, I bit down and it was like crunching on a rock or something.”
Me: *Puzzled.* “Oh, I’m really sorry about that—”
New Starter: *Cutting in.* “It’s probably just the seeds in the jam.”
Now there’s something about the way he says this that makes my alarm bells ring.
Me: “Show me what you put on these scones.”
I start marching toward the prep bench. Sitting on the bench is the bowl of whipped cream, and next to it, in a plastic bag, is a broken glass jar which contains the jam – this guy is FEEDING THE CUSTOMER BROKEN GLASS.
New Starter: “I didn’t think it would be a big deal.”
Me: “Are you f****** insane?!”
I grab the plate of mostly uneaten glass-infused scones.
Me: “How is anyone supposed to eat this?!”
To my utter… UTTER amazement he proceeds to EAT THEM, in front of me, all the while crunching on glass and flinching every time he does. I’m paralyzed dumbfounded. When he finishes eating them, he says:
New Starter: “Do you think I should go to the hospital?”
Me: “You’re fired.”
Related:
Clive Strikes Again!
Some Problems Tend To Stick Around
