Unfiltered Story #138665

, , , | Unfiltered | February 4, 2019

I worked nights during the week and long day shifts on the weekends at a popular burger place, known for their thick burgers. I have been on the clock for two hours when I hear yelling. It’s slow so I had to the back where the manager is yelling at the cooks. It turns out the young fools were bored and decided to play with the hose. They not only broke the sprayer but have torn the hose apart.

Just standing there looking at this fifteen-foot hose, I prayed I wouldn’t need it to clean the bathrooms. The connection to the sprayer was just hanging like a slinky and the sprayer was broken in two. One cook had the hose with the slinky, while the other cook had the handle part of the sprayer in his hand. Both boys were standing there soaked. The back half of the restaurant was soaked. Guess who had to clean up the dry stock and floors, ME. The fools had to clean the kitchen and freezer, it was right next door to where the hook up for the hose was located.

So the night continues, though the two bone heads now try to joke with me about cleaning the bathrooms, which I am dreading. I check the bathrooms. Woman’s is good, just some wiping down and sweeping but the men’s. There is one stall in there… just one… the rest is urinals. Will at some point a cherry bomb or a firecracker had been put in the toilet when it was full of SHIT. I just could not see someone pooping all over that stall because the ceiling and top part was also covered. This stall was ceiling to floor enclosed so a very small space with poop on every surface. Plus it was the farthest room from the front. I really needed that hose. Oh did I forget to say it was all dry and smelled.

No one complained about it and I had no clue when it happened. So I turned around walked right past the fools, who were snickering and right to the manager. I just told her to check out the men’s. She looked at me then the fools and went to see why I was near tears. I really was because I had no clue how to clean it or if I had time. Before she even returned I decided I wasn’t going to. The fools were back joking me and saying how I would be here all night. When did they learn I can’t say I just had a sinking feeling they had a hand in it.

My manager that night was the best, also she was pregnant. When she came back she was pissed. I mean fuming. She just watched them act a fool as she reached over to grab the buckets and brushes we kept near the hose before whistling.

“Since you think it is so funny, why don’t you go look yourself!” She said to them very calmly. They turned toward the kitchen to get back to work only for her to step in their paths. “Oh no. Since you boys broke the hose you are cleaning the men’s bathroom. Like you told (my name) it will take all night.” At that she thrusted the buckets and brushes into their hands and escorted them to the men’s. Her last parting words before turning the corner, “Start with the ceiling as that shit is going to be the hardest place to clean!”

I couldn’t believe what was happening. The cooks never cleaned the bathrooms because they had to stay with the food. As will as the cross contamination that could occur.

That night I learned how to make food and that my manager was a firm believer in Karma. They stayed in the bathrooms for the rest of the night. As I was leaving they were outside the men’s gagging and one of them had a streak down his back. His friend was trying to wipe it off with toilet paper. It was hilarious.

They never joked me about cleaning or ever touched the hose again. I stayed for another few years before I found a better job.

It’s Not The Drinking That Will Kill You

, , , , , | Related | January 30, 2019

(It is the early nineties when landlines in phone books are still a thing. A young man approaches my register with several cases of beer. I ask for his ID. He opens his wallet and I see that he has more than one ID. He hands me the driver’s license that says that he is 17.)

Me: “Sorry, sweetie, you have about four years before I can sell you this.”

Kid: “Oh, my bad. I gave you the wrong one.”

(He hands me a really bad fake ID that says he’s 22, but he forgets to take his real one back. I take note of his last name and address. After congratulating him on a nice try, I refuse the sale and he goes on his way. I look him up in the phone book and call his mother. I tell her that her son was attempting to buy alcohol with a fake ID. She assures me it will be dealt with. Fast forward thirty minutes: my little con artist’s dad is dragging him into the building by his ear.)

Dad: “Show me what you were trying to buy. And don’t lie, because I’m going to ask the cashier. And you’re going to get a beating for every can you tried to buy.”

(I had never felt so horrible for tattling in my whole life. I lied to the dad and said it was only a single 40-oz. This young man needed to be taught a lesson about underage drinking, but I was afraid he wouldn’t make it out alive if I told the truth.)

Sorry Not Sorry

, , , , | Right | January 30, 2019

(A customer is upset because we are out of a particular item. I check in the back — I know we are out but I do it for show — and tell the customer we are out of that item. He gets upset and starts making a scene.)

Me: “I’m sorry, but we don’t have [item] right now.”

Customer: “Why not?”

Me: “It’s most likely going to come in on the truck tomorrow afternoon.”

Customer: “You don’t have any?”

Me: “No, sorry.”

Customer: “Hmph. I don’t think you mean that.”

Me: “Huh?”

Customer: “You say you’re sorry, but I don’t think you really mean it. You need to mean it when you say sorry to a customer.”

Me: *thinking* “Well, I mean it even less now.” *speaking* “Sorry?”

Customer: “Ugh.” *storms off*

It Might Be Tough Getting The Receipt

, , , , , , | Related Right | January 29, 2019

(I’m helping a mom load groceries into her car. She has a baby and a boy about three or four years old. The mom and I are making small talk when the boy speaks up.)

Boy: “Hi!”

Me: “Hello.”

Boy: “Can we return the baby?”

Me: “What?”

Mom: “I didn’t buy the baby from the store.”

Boy: “Yes, you did; I know you did! Can we return him? All he does is fuss.”

Mom: “But I didn’t buy the baby from the store.”

Boy: “Yes, you did!”

Me: “Sorry, all sales are final. No returns or exchanges on babies.”

Boy: “Aww.”

(I hope the mom was able to get through to her kid that babies do not come from grocery stores.)

Not Quite Feline This Game

, , , , , , | Friendly | January 29, 2019

When I moved in with my roommate, he brought with him his adorable, tiny cat. My cats don’t love her, but I do. She is a bundle of inexhaustible energy and is very entertaining. Like all cats, though, she came with some bizarre quirks.

One night not long after moving in together, my roommate and I were watching a movie through his Xbox when suddenly the movie disappeared with a cheerful little three-tone beep. The console had been turned off, and sitting atop the Xbox was my roommate’s cat. She had hit the sensitive power button on the side of the box with a paw. My roommate scolded her and got up to shoo her away and turn it back on. I thought this was hilarious — I mean, how would she even know to do this? — but he was unsurprised.

I learned then that this was far from accidental on the cat’s part. He told me that she had learned a while ago how to turn the Xbox on and off, and did it on purpose — not to hear it beep, or from the simple joy of pressing a button, not even for the entertainment value of watching her human get upset.

No, instead she had somehow become obsessed with the user icon that briefly appears on screen when the Xbox signs you in. She waits eagerly for it, and as soon as it chimes and appears, she leaps at it and repeatedly smacks it ferociously. She knows that it appears when the box is turned on, so she will intentionally turn it off and then on again so that the sign-in icon will appear.

My roommate had learned to barricade the Xbox in his previous apartment, and now we had to do the same, making sure she couldn’t get to it, because she would do this nonstop if she could. Sometimes she manages to squeeze a paw past the barricade and hit it anyway. I still find it funny, but she has interrupted several movies, shows, and games. When he’s feeling generous, though, my roommate will turn the console on just for her, and wait while she smacks it, and then scoop her up and praise her. “You did it! You’re a fierce killer! You’ve saved us all!”

We still can’t decide if she’s smart or dumb, but she knows what she wants! And she’s definitely got my roommate wrapped around her littlest toe.

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