God damn you people.
Why are all customers so damn averse to making a simple decision? Every damn day, someone will tell me they want a drink. I gotta ask them what size. At the prospect of actually using their horridly atrophied brain cells, they unleash a gigantic SIGH and say.... "whatever comes with it."
This works okay during lunch, because the meals all come with a medium drink so I don't even need to ask unless they asked for a shake. But during breakfast, there's no set size of soda that comes with a meal. So I have to tell them THAT. They get all huffy and puffy and go "Regular!" No, bitch, there's no "regular" size. Look at the God damn mother fucking menu, and you'll notice that. Small, medium, large. How did you all get so damn stupid and still manage to drive here?
Once a guy kept ordering drinks and not telling me the sizes, so I had to ask him every single time. He got visibly distressed at (I'm assuming) the fact that he still had to tell me what he fucking wanted.
And another thing: What is it about my appearance that makes people assume I'm some kind of mechanical engineer? Kudos to them for being prescient enough to know that I'm a fucking genius; but I'm not that kind of a genius. What happens is sometimes the shake machine breaks down because the one we have is ancient as all hell. I would not be surprised to discover an instruction manual written in cuneiform for this thing. It is older than your mom. Anyway, they order a shake and I tell them it's broken. The response I almost invariably get:
"What's wrong with it?"
What's wrong with it? It's fucking broken, that's what's wrong with it. Out of all the people working in the store, no one is less likely to know how the shake machine works than the counter person. Chances are, the only person who really knows how it works speaks limited English at best. I'm sure you've all noticed my masterful command of the English language, so is that person me? Doubt it.
Yes, I'm arrogant today. Arrogant bloggers are always the best.
This works okay during lunch, because the meals all come with a medium drink so I don't even need to ask unless they asked for a shake. But during breakfast, there's no set size of soda that comes with a meal. So I have to tell them THAT. They get all huffy and puffy and go "Regular!" No, bitch, there's no "regular" size. Look at the God damn mother fucking menu, and you'll notice that. Small, medium, large. How did you all get so damn stupid and still manage to drive here?
Once a guy kept ordering drinks and not telling me the sizes, so I had to ask him every single time. He got visibly distressed at (I'm assuming) the fact that he still had to tell me what he fucking wanted.
And another thing: What is it about my appearance that makes people assume I'm some kind of mechanical engineer? Kudos to them for being prescient enough to know that I'm a fucking genius; but I'm not that kind of a genius. What happens is sometimes the shake machine breaks down because the one we have is ancient as all hell. I would not be surprised to discover an instruction manual written in cuneiform for this thing. It is older than your mom. Anyway, they order a shake and I tell them it's broken. The response I almost invariably get:
"What's wrong with it?"
What's wrong with it? It's fucking broken, that's what's wrong with it. Out of all the people working in the store, no one is less likely to know how the shake machine works than the counter person. Chances are, the only person who really knows how it works speaks limited English at best. I'm sure you've all noticed my masterful command of the English language, so is that person me? Doubt it.
Yes, I'm arrogant today. Arrogant bloggers are always the best.
