Taco’ Bout Crazy

, , , , , | Working | July 2, 2020

When I am a teen, I am walking down the street, enjoying the summer sun, and sipping from a Gatorade bottle that I brought from my house. Set up in a parking lot along the street is a taco truck. I haven’t come within fifty feet of the truck.

A vendor leans out of the side of the truck and points at me.

Vendor: “Hey! Hey, you need to pay for that!”

Me: “Huh?”

Vendor: “You need to pay for that bottle!”

I shook my head at this and kept walking, but the guy actually climbed out of the truck and started chasing me. I ended up booking it down the street and outpacing him, but it was still one of the scariest events of my life at that point, and I ended up avoiding that stretch of street for a couple of years afterward.

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They’re Not Exactly Gagging For Your Business

, , , , , , , | Working | October 16, 2019

(My friends and I have been to a nightclub in the city, and instead of getting the train, I offer to drive everyone. I am stone-cold sober as I don’t like to drink alcohol; I don’t like the taste. We exit the club and see a food truck on the curb. All of my friends are a bit too drunk to want food, but I go over and join the queue. There are a few people in front of me, and finally the queue thins and it’s just me and a man that is so drunk that he can’t stand. At one point, he hunches over and gags but luckily isn’t sick.)

Server: “Anyone not had their order taken yet?”

(The drunk man in front of me ignores him and continues to gag.)

Server: “Anyone?”

(This goes on for two minutes and in the end, I roll my eyes and step forward to order. The second I open my mouth…)

Server: “Get back in line! That man was in front of you.”

(I shrugged and decided to walk away, because I had already been in the queue for ten minutes and it didn’t look like I was going to get any food any time soon. The second I stepped out of line, the man vomited over the curb and up the side of the truck.)

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Unfiltered Story #162052

, , | Unfiltered | September 6, 2019

Customer: Does the salty caramel flavor have caramel in it?

Unfiltered Story #136692

, , , | Unfiltered | January 15, 2019

One of our favorite taco trucks has a semi-enclosed, totally unstaffed eating area. You buy your food at the truck; a huge, orange truck that’s obviously the only food-making place.

I was inside to save us a space to eat, waiting for my husband to bring our tacos, reading on my phone, when two guys walked up near me and started, without trying to address me or get my attention, complain about how I wasn’t doing my job, probably checking my Facebook, etc.

I ignored them utterly as they complained for another five minutes until my husband came in with our food and we sat down. They stared at us for a quite a while until they figured out I wasn’t going to help them and they wandered away.

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The New Dairy Queen

| Right | February 16, 2015

(When I was 15 years old, a family friend had started an ice cream truck business. He needed someone to drive and someone to hand out ice cream and handle the money: two people per truck, and there were five trucks. Naturally, hunting for money, I volunteer to work the money and ice cream part. It is towards the end of the summer, and I know the ropes by then. Parents often stand on the sidewalk and give the children the money, letting them order. My customer is about five years of age.)

Me: “What can I get for you, sir?”

Customer: *giggling* “I want ice cream.”

Me: “What kind of ice cream?”

Customer: “I can’t tell you that!”

Me: “Then how will you get your ice cream? I am the ice cream queen! I control all of the ice cream in this mighty vessel.”

Customer: “I need to talk to the Ice Cream MAN to get my ice cream, not the Ice cream QUEEN! I need a BOY! I need a BOY!”

(As this was not what I had prepared for, I quickly nodded, and ducked below the counter, and got a marker, drew a mustache, and sat up and spoke in a low voice.)

Me: “Her Majesty is a new worker. What can I get for you?”

Customer: *looking relieved* “Ice cream man! I want….that one!” *points to ice cream on the board*

(And all was well… besides the mustache I had for the next week. Thank you PERMANENT marker, you did your job. Parents, everywhere, tell your children of the Ice Cream Queen. Save a teenage girl’s face from fake facial hair!)

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