(I went into work despite having a cold. By the time I’m leaving, I’m feeling my fever come back and my manager gives me some cold medicine.)
Manager: “[My Name], do you work tomorrow?”
Me: “Yeah, I close.”
Manager: “Will you be alive?”
Me: “I hope so. But, if I die, I’ll call and let you know.”
Me: “Can I get a pitcher of sangria?”
Employee: *confused* “I’m sorry; I don’t think… Yeah, we don’t do that.”
Me: *more confused* “Okay, thanks. I’ll find something else.”
(I go back to looking at the menu, which clearly lists pitchers of sangria. Two minutes later…)
Employee: “Wait, did you mean like drink pitchers? I thought you meant like a picture! Like you wanted to know what it looked like or something! I was so confused! Yeah… We do drink pitchers. I’ll get you one. I’m sorry, I was so confused!”
Me: “…It’s that kind of day, isn’t it?”
(The sangria was lovely, and I couldn’t blame her! It was Friday afternoon by the beach; she was ready to be done! Still, though… Who asks for a PICTURE of a drink?)
(I am twelve years old, and visiting my aunt and uncle. We go out to eat at a small restaurant. I am wearing a t-shirt that says the word ‘Disney,’ but each letter bears the pattern of a Disney character, such as Mickey, Winnie the Pooh, Tigger, or Donald Duck. The word happens to sit right over my boobs. I am standing by the dessert display, when a boy younger than me notices my shirt.)
Boy: “All the letters are Disney characters!”
Me: “Yeah, pretty cool, huh?”
Boy: *rubbing his hand over the letter ‘D’* “This one is [Character]…” *moving onto ‘I’* “…this one is [Character]…” *and so on*
Me: “Uh…yeah…”
(He rubbed his hand over every letter as he named the characters, needless to say also rubbing my boobs in the process. Because of his age, I didn’t think he realized how inappropriate this was or how uncomfortable it made me, and I was too shy to say anything, so I just stood stock-still, eyes wide with shock, waiting for him to get to ‘Y’ and stop touching me. I glanced over at his mother; she gave me an apologetic look but did nothing. I think she, and my aunt and uncle, were more amused than anything. I, for one, was amazed that the mother said nothing, and very relieved when the boy finally finished naming the characters and stopped. I hope his mother at least had a word with him after the fact about personal space and female assets!)
(I am working in the drive-thru during a busy breakfast rush when a snooty customer pulls up.)
Customer: *taking her food and shakes it* “How many calories is this? The girl on headset said you were going to find that for me!”
(We have the calorie count for practically every item in a program on our registers – right down to a single slice of cheese – so despite the massive line, I quickly check. For some reason, while we have the nutritional information for the breakfast sandwich as a whole, we don’t have the information on just the chicken filet, which is all she ordered.)
Me: “I’m really, sorry, but for some reason we don’t have it in our system. I know that if you go on the company website, though, they will have it under the ‘nutrition guide’ tab and—”
Customer: *disgusted* “I shouldn’t HAVE to go online. You should have it HERE!” *drives away*
Manager: *waves at receding car* “You have a nice day, too!”
Me: “If she’s that concerned about calories, maybe she shouldn’t be eating fried chicken for breakfast?”
Manager: “Seriously!”
(It’s the middle of the day on a hot, July Saturday and my friend and I decide to get some ice cream from a popular local chain. The nearest store to us is completely dark and empty when we get there.)
Me: “What? Why is it closed?”
Friend: *peers through the window* “There are three people just sitting behind the counter! You don’t think…”
(He pushes on the door which opens and the employees slowly stand up.)
Me: “Are you open?”
Employee #1: *sullenly* “Yes.”
(He turns on the lights. Almost instantly the place is flooded with customers.)
Friend: “Oh, you guys are so busted!”
(We never did find out what happened to them but I can’t imagine they kept that job very long.)
