Today is my little brother's birthday. Of course he's taller than I am, but he will ALWAYS be my LITTLE brother. Sadly I didn't get him a birthday gift yet. Being broke sucks like a shop-vac. I got him a stocking (disappointingly empty even) with our favorite college team and he was pleased. He's always so appreciative of the crap I give him. Devildog isn't quite as appreciative, but then again, I give him a different type of crap than I give my brother. Anyway, on to the purpose of my post today...it's a blog about the husband.
Devildog got home from work and apparently needed to download his day with me. There was a very challenging customer who called trying to get something she honestly was not entitled to receive, and attempted to do so with sniping, name calling and lies. Really....that whole karma thing never occurred to her apparently, because it came back to bite her unsunny place. There was another associate in the store who left their assigned department hanging while he took an early lunch break, resulting in a very frazzled associate that was left behind to tend all those customers solo. Sales plan buddy, it's one of those key indicators that the big cheese in corporate offices use to determine how many hours you get to work, and if you even get to KEEP your job. I'm sure this individual simply does not care about that at all. The big puzzle of a store's day is lost on that associate. There were inventory issues needing to be sorted out and remedied. And transfers were arranged, of course I got to hear about how one store never reciprocates and how that just peeves Devildog to no end (among other things I shouldn't repeat).
Then his lunch break was no exception to the Darwinian associations. He went to McDonald's...they know him there and he never deviates from his usual. When I worked at McDonald's (looks at oldest...) 16+ years ago, we had our "usuals". Regina always got a double cheeseburger, small fries and a small coke. She ate all her meals at McDonald's and one time threw me for a complete loop when she ordered a McRib instead, laughing heartily at foiling my attempt to beat her in the door and have her order ready to go for her. There was the hoarding curmudgeon who drove a late 1960's Chevy 4 door loaded to the top with old newspapers. The trunk, back seat, floorboards and front seat were full of papers. I suspect the lack of comfortable space contributed to his crankiness (clutter does that), and he was very terse. My husband is a regular, except he's not all that eccentric as those etched into my memory of my days at the mcjob. He likes his burgers plain, and nothing has changed in all the years we've been together. No condiments please, except cheese. His McPals near the job know this and try to have his food ready for him. Today there were 6 in line, Devildog included. He and another party in line had special orders. Everyone else had stuff they generally have at the ready. This other party ordered twelve (yes a dozen) double cheeseburgers, no ketchup no pickle. This large special order was second in line, Devildog was sixth. These two individuals were getting testy because people in line behind them dared to order food that wasn't a special order, and got their food ahead of them. They were saying things like "our food? anytime soon? like now?" and other insolent things that make the employees move slower just to be spiteful. I wouldn't dream of knowing anything about this, but I've heard things indicating as much. Devildog, having been on a roll with this difficult customer and annoying coworker interjected with his rapier wit. "Oh be patient, grab a chicken and gnaw on the leg to hold you over. They have to go out back and catch the cow and slaughter it for your burgers." The crew was just waiting to see what came next. Impatient Special Ordering people got puzzled and gave quizzical looks. Devildog had to break it down for them, because their apparently excessive grease consumption fried their cognitive abilities. "What do you expect? You come in here and order not just a special order, but a LOT of a special order. It's coming, they're working on it and it will be up in a minute. Geesh." Impatient Special Ordering people were not amused. Further proof that too much grease isn't good, it zaps your humor too. Eat a salad people! The roughage might clear the blockage and you may one day laugh again. However the McCrew was really bemused by Devildog's candid assertion and he became endeared to them that much more for it.
Devildog got back to work and there was more trying of his patience. He was saying to no one in particular "I'm trying to be better. I really am, but it's hard to be nice when they're being stupid." And a nearby coworker was quick on the draw and quoted Ron White. "You can't fix stupid". And it doesn't matter how much you try, that condition is just irreparable beyond any hope.
Friday, December 26, 2008
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3 comments:
Cheezus Rice! I had completely forgot about Regina and the Hoarder! Thanks for the trip down amnesia lane! At least you didn't have to clean the bathroom after the Hoarder. He REALLY liked it when I would have to clean the bathroom and he was still in there shit painting it for posterity. I would beg off and tell him I would come back later and he would beg me to come in a clean while he was in there "doin-his-bidness". Sadly...he really got excited about that.
And in my personal opinion, Ron White is a funny guy but definitely struck a moment of comic genius when he proclaimed, "You can't fix stupid!"
Word vert: mulize. Well now that there just sounds downright painful. I would hate for someone to mulize me.
EW. Just. EW. I could have lived my life without that knowledge thankyouverymuch. ::shudder::
I am soooo glad I never worked at that McDonald's.
I did, however, work in a Starbucks in the back of a Barnes and Noble when I was 17. We had a bunch of regular pretentious writer types who felt they weren't official writers unless they had their laptops out in the back of a bookstore. They were really nice, though, and got the same iced teas every day.
We also had a game where we would guess what somebody was going to order from walking in the door. See, it was a VERY rich area of Scottsdale (even though I wasn't very rich) and a lot of people around felt they were above walking into a Starbucks that wasn't in a bookstore so they would come straight into our Barnes and Noble just to get coffee and leave. If she was 40-ish, had a HUGE rock on her finger, a blonde bob, and wore khakis, she was going to get a skim latte no foam with one shot of sugar-free vanilla. If she was teen-aged, had shoulder-length blonde hair, carried keys to a car nobody her age could ever afford on their own ever, and wore khaki SHORTS, then she would loudly declare to her friends that she was "on a diet" and needed to "watch her calorie intake" and would have "Just a frappuccino" which by the way have like 1000 calories.
Whenever somebody said they were on a diet and they were decidedly thinner than I, I would use twice as much frappuccino mix and half as much ice to double the calorie content. My frappuccinos always tasted best :)
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