Finger Flavor

| MI, USA | Working | April 4, 2016

(I am recently hired at a popular burger chain. I’m doing dishes and washing a vegetable cutter in the same fashion I’d watched another employee wash it a few days prior. I end up cutting myself on it but decide not to go to the hospital for treatment because it isn’t a serious wound. A while later, after I can bandage it, I’m back out on lobby, sweeping. We have a new shake mix that is a very red color. I don’t realize until later that someone dripped some of it leading away from the sink to the break area.)

Coworker #1: “Is that blood?”

Coworker #2: “I really don’t think that’s blood.”

Coworker #1: “I know a girl cut her hand earlier.”

Coworker #3: “OH, MY GOD! SHE CUT HER FINGER OFF!”

Their Logic Is A DuD

| GA, USA | Working | April 4, 2016

(I work as a civilian contractor for the Department of Defense. My time is spent on military bases, so I am required to wear a uniform similar to the military type, though mine says “Civilian Contractor” where the name would be on the breast. After one long day at work, I decide to head over to a local chain burger place to get something to eat before heading to my motel room to crash. Since I’ve just left the base, I am still in uniform, and don’t feel like heading to change. That’s how tired I am. Going inside, I wait patiently to be served, and then step up to the counter when my turn comes.)

Me: “I’ll have a [Order], and a large tea.”

Cashier: “You get a military discount if you have your ID.”

Me: “I’m not military.”

Cashier: “Then why are you dressed like that? It’s not hunting season…”

Me: “I’m DoD. So, no discount.”

Cashier: “There’s no such thing as ‘DoD.’ You mean EoD.”

Me: “No, DoD.”

Cashier: “I’m not serving you.”

Me: “Why not?”

Cashier: “I’m tired of you fakes coming in here and trying s***. Get you’re a** out of here before I call the police!”

Me: “Let me talk to your manager.”

Cashier: “No.”

Me: *raising voice* “I said, I want to speak to your manager, NOW.”

(At this point someone comes from the back, looking around. From the different uniform, I gather that the person is a manager.)

Manager: “What’s the problem?”

Cashier: *before I can speak* “He thinks he can lie to get a meal discount.”

Manager: “Is that true?”

Me: “No. As I told your genius here, I’m not in the military. I work for the DoD. I don’t want a discount; I just want to get my burger and tea and then go back to my room to sleep.”

Cashier: “DoD.” *scoffing* “I told him there’s no such thing. Stupid idiot can’t even keep his story straight. It’s EoD!”

Manager: “Look, I don’t want trouble, but if you don’t leave now, I’m going to have to call the police. Impersonating a soldier is a criminal offense.”

(About this point I hold up my hands.)

Me: “Fine. I’m done.”

(I head out and make a quick call to the owner — how I know him will become clear. He tells me to sit tight and he’ll be right there. About five minutes later, he drives up and I explain everything to him in the lot. We head back inside. The cashier sees me coming in, followed by him, and quickly turns to call the manager forward. The exchange is short but sweet.

Owner: “Now, correct me if I’m wrong here. A customer came in, ordered something, and you took it upon yourself to berate and embarrass him because you two morons think you know everything there is to know in this world?”

Manager: “He’s a liar, sir. Look, he keeps saying he works for the DoD. Everyone knows there’s no such thing. He means EoD…”

Owner: “No, you idiot. He means DoD. DoD as in Department of Defense. He works for the government; in particular, a defense contractor.”

Manager: “And you believe that?”

Owner: “Considering he’s engaged to my daughter, and I used to work for the same contractor he works for? Yeah, I’d say I believe it.”

(Heading outside with the him, we shared a laugh, and then a serious warning that he is going to tell my fiancé the whole story, and I’d never get to live it down. I still haven’t. Though now I do change before I go out for dinner — just in case.)

A Hot Slice Of Common Sense, Part 2

| NC, USA | Right | April 4, 2016

(I’m the stupid customer in this one. My sister and I went to a custom sandwich shop for a late lunch, and I’m pretty tired. Note: this place offers two different little pizzas, one big and round, and the other, newer, is thinner and square.)

Employee: “What can I get for you?”

Me: “A personal pizza, please.”

Employee: “What kind?”

Me: “Uh, circular.” *holds hands to show the size and shape*

Employee: “I mean, cheese, pepperoni, you know…”

Me: “Oh! Veggie. It’s a veggie.” *I turn to my sister* “Did I really just… Oh, my god.”

Sister: “Yeah.”

(I had to keep from laughing at myself the whole rest of the order!)

Related:
A Hot Slice Of Common Sense

Should Have Gone With The First Order

, | Coruscant | Right | April 2, 2016

(I work at a fast-food place on Coruscant. A couple of robed customers come up.)

Customer #1: “I’ll have the Boba Fettuccine pasta salad with some Sarlaactose-free dip, some Darth Tatertots, and a Grand Muffin Tarkins.”

Customer #2: “I’ll get the Obi-Wan-Kebab, a side of Chewbaklava, and some Qui-Gon-Ginger-snaps.

Me: “Okay, that all comes to 159 galactic credits.”

(The customer then does a weird hand movement.)

Customer #1: “This food is free.”

(As weird as it sounds, I feel compelled to agree with them.)

Me: “This food is free.”

Customer #2: “And you will give us coupons for future free meals.”

Me: “And I will give you coupons for future free meals.”

Customer #1: *really getting into it now* “And you will bring back the McRibba-The-Hutt—”

Customer #2: *interrupting* “Dude, c’mon. Even Yoda can’t bring that back.”

Customer #1: “Fiiiiine.” *to me* “Please let us know when our order is ready.”

Me: “Certainly, sir. I’ve put that order in for you.”

(They walk aside and I serve a few more customers, when I see that their order number has come up but not been collected. I turn to my coworker who prepared the order.)

Me: “Why didn’t those two guys collect their food?”

Coworker: “I don’t know. I called out ‘Order 66 is ready!’ but then they just went all pale and just ran out the door…”

I Will Follow You Into The Darkside

| Coruscant | Friendly | April 1, 2016

(I am having a hard time at the New Jedi training academy. It doesn’t help that the only Jedi in existence, Luke Skywalker, is my uncle, and that I am named after another great Jedi, Ben Kenobi, and my mother is a princess and beloved resistance leader. The pressure is so intense that I just can’t take it. Luckily, I have made a new friend called Hux, and after working out that we have some things in common, we meet up to discuss things at a fast food place first thing in the morning when it opens, because that’s, like, so hardcore. We’ve placed our order and we’re sitting down at a table, waiting.)

Me: “So… isn’t everything in the galaxy so lame?”

Hux: “I know, right? The lamest.”

Me: “I just wanna go into my dark place and just die.”

Hux: “That would make a great song.”

Me: “Yeah, it would.”

Hux: “We should start a band!”

Me: “Yeah! Then we could let the whole galaxy know about our pain!”

Hux: “Yeah, but we need a kick-a** name first. Something super intense.”

Me: “Yeah. What should we call our group?”

(At this point the only employee starts calling out to the restaurant.)

Employee: “Someone’s order is ready!”

Hux: “AC-DC3PO?”

Me: “Nah, that’s too metal.”

Employee: *a bit louder this time* “The first order of the day is ready, guys!”

Hux: “My Chemical Bromance?”

Me: “Better, but still not dark enough.”

Employee: “Guys! You’re the first ones here! The first order is ready!”

Hux: “Blaster For My Valentine?”

Me: “Aggressive. I like it, but we need to think bigger.”

Employee: “LAST CALL FOR THE FIRST ORDER!!!”

Hux: “Death Star For Cutie?”

Me: “Almost there…”

Employee: “FIRST… ORDER!”

Hux: “Oh wait! That’s us!”

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