You’ve Got To Cook Bacon To Bring Home The Bacon

, , , , , | Working | November 27, 2017

(A new duty manager has started with us. We come in after an extended weekend to find the entire menu changed and half the stock missing.)

Me: *after checking the stock* “What the h*** is going on?”

Manager: “Who was here on Saturday?”

Duty Manager: “Hello! My, isn’t it a mess in here?!”

Manager: “[Duty Manager], do you know anything about this? Half the stock is missing.”

Duty Manager: “Oh, I came in yesterday and cleansed the menu. It’s shocking how little of it was kosher!”

Manager: “Kosher? But we aren’t a kosher restaurant.”

Duty Manager: “Well, you should be. I’m Jewish and you should be sensitive to my religious beliefs.”

Manager: “But, we already have kosher selections. Are you seriously expecting our customers to be sensitive to your beliefs as well? What about [My Name]? He’s Jewish and doesn’t have a problem with it.”

Duty Manager: “He’s probably just a convert. I have real blood in my veins.”

Me: “Well, not that your accusation isn’t insulting enough, but if we’re dealing with respecting beliefs, shouldn’t we only have halal on the menu, as well, because of [Colleague]?”

Duty Manager: “Oh, no. It’s only the Jews you have to care about, because of the Holocaust.”

Manager: “What?!”

Duty Manager: “We deserve something back.”

(We’re all stunned into silence for a moment.)

Me: “Well, I guess I’m owed twice then, because I’m Jewish and gay.”

Duty Manager: “See?! You aren’t a real Jew, because Jews can’t be gay.”

Manager: “I’ve had enough. In my office, now!”

(We were forced to close after that day for a week to restock, and the duty manager worked that shift refusing to leave the office. About £15,000 of food was lost because of her, which the owner decided to pay themselves to avoid any further complications when dealing with conflicts of religion. It was mutually agreed that the duty manager should simply leave. Today as I was walking to work I bumped into her, causing her bacon sandwich to spray across the ground. I stared in disbelief as she tried to pick up the remains. When she recognised me, she screamed, “IT’S HARD SOMETIMES!” before storming off.)

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