The Job Doesn’t Suck As Much As You Do

| New Britain, CT, USA | Working | June 1, 2016

(When I first start working in my kitchen, I am the first female cook they’ve hired in several years, and younger than most of my coworkers by at least ten years. At first they are afraid of offending me or behaving too brash for the “little girl” in the kitchen. They try to do a lot of the “heavy” work for me and tone down their language a lot or otherwise became completely silent when I arrive, but by the end of the second week I prove that I am just as strong an employee as they are and that their crude language generally doesn’t bother me because it is all in jest. On this particular day I have made a point to one of the guys that he doesn’t need to help me lift a heavy piece of equipment because I’m “just as much a man as he is,” and the running gag of the day becomes that I announce “suck my d*ck” instead of “heard” or “echo” whenever a coworker made a request.)

Coworker #1: “[My Name], can I get a side of sour cream?”

Me: “Suck my d*ck!” *I put sour cream in the serve window*

Coworker #2: “Hey, hon, I need a refill on chicken breast.”

Me: “Suck my d*ck!” *I run to the cooler to get chicken*

Coworker #3: “Fries coming your way!”

Me: “Suuuuuuuuuuuuuck my d*********ck!”

Voice Behind Me: “[My Name], can you portion broccoli for dinner, please?”

Me: *without turning around* “Suck my d*ck!”

(I turn around and instead of a coworker, it is my boss, the kitchen manager, standing next to HIS boss the DISTRICT MANAGER.)

Kitchen Manager: “Uh, what?”

Me: “I mean, suck my d*ck, SIR!”

Kitchen Manager: “Oh… Okay, then.”

(I ran off to portion broccoli, red in the face. From the fridge I hear my kitchen manager.)

Kitchen Manager: *to District Manager* “Yeah, I was worried, too, but she’s starting to fit in perfectly.”

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Just You Wait(ress)

| PA, USA | Right | May 31, 2016

(I work in a popular chain restaurant waiting tables. It is in a pretty affluent area. A mother and her daughter come and sit in my section. The little girl has a pad of paper and a pen with her.)

Me: “Hi, ladies, how are you today?”

Mother: “We’re great! Thanks for asking.”

Daughter: “Are you a waitress?”

Me: “Yes, I am. Can I get you guys something to drink?”

Daughter: “I want to be a waitress when I get older!”

Mother: *laughing* “Yes, she wants to be a waitress when she gets older. But I know that won’t happen. She’s going to go to college and get a real job. She’s too smart to wait tables.”

Me: *staring at her incredulously* “Umm, can I get you something to drink?”

(Little did the woman know, I wait tables in order to put myself through college.)

Double The Trouble

| Philadelphia, PA, USA | Right | May 31, 2016

Customer: “What’s the difference between the single fajita and the double fajita?”

Me: “The single one is for one person, where the double is usually shared as it is double the meat.”

Customer: “So you get two fajitas with the double?”

Me: “Well, no. It’s just double the meat on the skillet, which two or more people usually share.”

Customer: “So, it’s two skillets.”

Me: “No, it’s one skillet but it has double the meat.”

Customer: “So it’s meant for one person?”

Me: “No, it’s usually shared. You can have one for yourself, but it’s traditionally split.”

Customer: “So it comes on two skillets?”

Me: “No. One skillet. Double meat.”

Customer: “Okay, we want a double chicken fajita, but on separate skillets.”

Me: “So… two single chicken fajitas?”

Customer: “Yes, that sounds perfect!”

Would You Like To Wombat Your Dropbear

, | Cincinnati, OH, USA | Working | May 30, 2016

(I’m a manager in a fast-food restaurant. One night it’s kind of slow and I am having a discussion with another of our managers about how when you’re working the drive-thru you can pretty much say anything as the customers don’t really listen to what you say. He’s been challenging me to slip random words in all night. By this point it’s gotten totally out of hand into the realm of the ridiculous. Note the last several words I am “challenged” to are “koala bear” and “kangaroo,” kind of setting a mental theme. To help prove the point I say everything in my normal “drive-thru voice” and try not to laugh on speaker. The drive-thru dings.)

Me: “Funnel Web Spider!”

Customer: “Hi, I’m fine.”

Me: “That’s koala bear. What can we Australia today?”

Customer: “I’ll take a number three, please.”

Me: “Boomerang! And to eucalyptus?”

Customer: “A Pepsi, please.”

Me: “Wonderful. Anything else we can kangaroo?”

Customer: “No, that’s all.”

Me: “Great! If your sailboat is correct, your wallaby is [Total]. We’ll Sydney at the first dingo.”

(By this point all my coworkers were listening in on headsets, and were in hysterics.)

Other Manager: “He didn’t even miss a beat. I bow to the master.”

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Customers Are A Bunch Of Slave-Drivers

| Onamia, MN, USA | Right | May 29, 2016

(Someone orders some mozzarella sticks under the name Spartacus. I go to bring them out and call the name. As I did, a man stood up and announces:)

Customer #1: “I AM SPARTACUS!”

(Then another guy in the back yells.)

Customer #2: “No, I AM SPARTACUS!”

(I was smirking as I handed out the food, but once I got back to the counter, my coworkers and I were crying with laughter.)

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