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Why All-You-Can-Eat Is Asking For Trouble

, , , | Right | November 28, 2022

I work at a famous breakfast and pancake chain in the USA. We’re doing an “all-you-can-eat pancakes” limited deal, which has been very popular. I am working in the drive-thru.

Customer: “I’ll take the ‘all-you-can-eat pancakes’ meal.”

Me: “Sorry, sir, that deal is only available in-store, not in the drive-thru.”

Customer: “Why not?”

Me: “Well… it’s all-you-can-eat. It doesn’t really work in the drive-thru. You have to order a specific number.”

Customer: “Give me all I can eat!”

Me: “It doesn’t work like that, sir.”

Customer: “You’re discriminating against drivers!”

Me: “You can come inside to enjoy the deal, sir.”

Customer: “It’s okay. Just remember my face. I’ll drive back for my refill.”

Just Dash Right Out The Door, Mister

, , , , , , | Right | CREDIT: hotbiscuitboy | November 22, 2022

I work at a restaurant during winter and summer breaks between semesters. A [Delivery App] driver comes in.

Me: “It’s going to be about ten more minutes before your order is ready.”

Driver: “That’s fine.”

He sits down at the bar on his phone for a few minutes.

At this point, we’re pretty swamped, and I’m the only server for tables, phones, to-go orders, etc. This means every mistake that isn’t from the kitchen is mine.

In my hectic state, I make a mistake and give [Driver]’s order to another driver who has been waiting. I realize about a minute after she walks out the door with it, and of course, I have to do the walk of shame to the bar to talk to this guy.

Me: “I’m so sorry, but I messed up and gave your order to another [Delivery App] driver. You’ll have to wait another fifteen minutes or so. We’re going to bump your order to the top of the queue.”

This guy wastes NO time in standing up and pointing his finger right at me.

Driver: “I’ve been waiting for ten whole minutes! You should’ve told me!”

Me: “Sir, I told you as soon as I realized the mistake.”

I don’t know what else he expected me to do.

He starts to raise his voice. Other customers are looking over, and I’m sure I look pretty stressed because I’m sweaty from running around the restaurant and I get anxious when people are mad at me.

Due to the small size of the restaurant, my manager, who has worked with the owner of this restaurant for years, comes out of the kitchen with a no-bulls*** look on her face. Let me just say that I both fear and admire this woman for her tenacity.

Manager: “What’s the problem here, sir?”

She looks like she already knows some bulls*** is about to come out of his mouth.

The man angrily gestures with his hands while telling her that “this girl” (me) messed up his order and he’s been waiting forever, blah, blah, blah, and then he swears at her.

Big mistake. This 5’1” woman is probably tougher than anyone he’s ever met. She swears right back at him.

Manager: “She already f****** apologized to you! What more do you want?”

He tries talking over her and raises his voice again, at which point she motions to the door.

Manager: “All right sir, have a good day.”

This pisses him off, but she just keeps repeating it as he yells at her.

Manager: “You can leave now, sir. We don’t want you in here. Just leave, have a good day.”

She kept telling him to have a good day, and he finally stormed out. I never saw him again, but it felt so good to have the manager stand up for me like that. Perks of working at a local business: no one can report you to corporate, so the manager and owner can tell anyone to f*** off if they’re an a**hole.

The Creme (Brulee) Of The Crop Of Impossible Demands

, , , , , , | Working | November 21, 2022

Being a pastry chef is a lot of fun, but we really do have some “smart” customers and even coworkers to deal with.

A server comes into the kitchen and asks me this gem.

Server: “I have a customer asking if she could have the creme brulee, but not the vanilla bean one?”

Me: “Not right now, no; we only have vanilla creme brulee on the menu right now. But in a month, we’ll change the flavor to probably pumpkin.”

The server leaves and comes back again.

Server: “The guest is wondering if you could just pick out the vanilla beans for her?”

Me: “Um… no, I can’t.”

The server leaves… and then comes back yet again!

Server: “She’s asking why. Is it because you’re too busy? Because I don’t mind picking them out for her.”

Me: “No, I mean that it’s not physically possible. The vanilla beans are cooked into the custard and then set.”

The server just looks blankly at me

Me: “Okay, imagine mashed potatoes, right? You added salt and black pepper to season it. It’s all mixed in together, right? You can’t just pick out the black pepper from it. The only way to do so would be to make a batch without any vanilla beans in it. And before you ask, no, I cannot make a batch right now without any vanilla. I make it fresh each morning, but if she wanted to call ahead and let us know, I could make it for her then. But not tonight.”

The server seems to understand and leaves… and then returns.

Server: “The customer is upset that you don’t cater to allergies. She’s highly allergic to vanilla beans!”

Me: “She’s allergic to vanilla? But she’s drinking a vanilla chai latte!”

Server: “She said she’s not allergic to vanilla, just the vanilla beans. She can go into anaphylactic shock if she has any.”

Me: “Given the fact that I make our vanilla syrup in-house with vanilla beans, and she’s been here for a couple of hours now, I don’t think she’s allergic to vanilla beans..”

The server tried to fight me more, but I told him I was too busy to deal with any more questions on this issue and to find a manager instead. The manager had my side when the server tried to argue. The lady was fine, by the way, although upset that she couldn’t have a vanilla-bean-free creme brulee that night.

Take Care Of Yourself. Period.

, , , , | Healthy | CREDIT: meeggzandbacon | November 17, 2022

It starts out as a normal Saturday night in my small-town restaurant. I come in for my shift at 4:00 pm, and I’m feeling good — ready for the busy night ahead and to make some money.

I go to use the restroom at around 5:00 pm before things start to really pick up and notice that I’m bleeding and slightly cramping. I’ve started my period early — oh, well. I do my thing and go about my business.

My cramps keep getting worse, but it is what it is. We’re busy, and there’s only one other server on with me, so I pop four ibuprofen and keep going. We’re mid-dinner rush at this point.

The cramps are getting worse to the point where I am doubling over behind the bar trying to make drinks. I’m starting to worry, so I try to call the owner who is out of town. No answer.

I go to the restroom and start throwing up. I feel like I’m going to pass out. I have eight tables in the dining area and six people at the bar. There’s absolutely no way I can leave, so I try to find coverage.

Finally, I get someone who’s cross-trained in the kitchen to help out in the dining room until I can get my s*** together. Everything’s getting fuzzy, my hearing is going out, and now I can’t stand. I call my mom.

Me: “I need you to drive me to the emergency room. Something isn’t right.”

After a break, I was not feeling fuzzy anymore, so I tried to continue to help where it was needed before I left.

My mom arrived and I left. I made it to the ER, where I passed out in the waiting area. I came to throwing up yet again what looked like coffee grounds. I was rushed back to a room immediately where multiple tests and ultrasounds were done.

It turned out that my Fallopian tube had ruptured due to pelvic inflammatory disease, which I’d had no idea I had. I had emergency surgery less than an hour later to have my right Fallopian tube removed completely and two blood transfusions because I was bleeding heavily internally.

Trust your body and don’t put your work before your health. I almost died because I didn’t want to leave my coworkers short-staffed.

I’ve Seen Every Episode Of “House”; That Doesn’t Make Me An Expert

, , , , , | Working | November 16, 2022

I received a call during work about my former husband being involved in a rather nasty traffic accident. I will not reveal the details, but I will say that he needed his legs amputated. I had to leave work early and be by his side.

When I finally come back to work, I sit in the break room and tell my coworker about this.

Me: “The doctors acted quickly, and I am grateful for that. Otherwise, he would have died of shock.”

My coworker comforts me when I start crying again. The manager is in the room at the time, although I don’t notice.

Later, when I am working, he pulls me aside and frowns at me with his arms crossed.

Manager: “Did [Former Husband] really get into an accident, or did you just want time off?”

Me: *Shocked* “He… He did. I can show you the photos—”

Manager: *Patronising* “You can’t die of shock, [My Name]; that’s a stupid Victorian idea.”

The senior manager is walking past and stops.

Senior Manager: “She doesn’t mean being horrified, [Manager]; she means sepsis.”

Manager: “Well, I watch medical shows, so I think I know more than you.”

He walked off. The senior manager told me to ignore him. When I came in the next day, I brought photos of my husband in his hospital bed for everybody to look at.