Night-shift Tragedy and why I hate teenagers
So, one of my coworkers, who henceforth I will refer to as Valley Girl because somehow she manages to look like a California Valley girl in this bumfuck town all the way across the country from Cali, and frankly I’m impressed. Anyway, Valley Girl fell at work, and the doctors said she wasn’t allowed to work for the rest of the week. Because our GM is terrible, he didn’t schedule anyone to replace her, so tonight it was just me and Willow on one of our busiest nights of the week.
Yesterday, Button and Willow, and even I, got a talking to from Dayshift for not stocking the night before(I guess they were relaying the message from the opener?). Apparently the caramel wasn’t stocked. Wow. Even though just one week earlier, this particular Dayshift worker had closed with me, and we chatted about the unfairness of how everything comes down to closing shift to deal with, and how opening(because she opens too) doesn’t take so much work that filling one syrup that nighttime forgot is the end of the world.
So after our talking too, dayshift hightailed it out of there, and we turn around to find that the icecream machine is basically empty and there are only two waffle cones left in the container. Now, it is a big deal for Dayshift to leave crap for Nightshift, because Nightshift has so much fucking work to do already. It was the same deal today, and the same Dayshift.. No whipped cream was pulled for the front, ice cream machine was empty, and it was a fucking mess; that me and Willow got to clean up on our own. Oh yeah, and we were slammed. I don’t wanna hear that dayshift was too busy to stock or clean either, because from open to when they left at five, they did around 100 tickets. By the time we left tonight, it was in the 400′s.
As per usual for Sunday night, a horde of teenagers arrived to tear our patio apart, swamp us with work, tip us none, and be in the way. They arrived slowly, waited for all of their little friends to show up, and then all ordered simultaneously. But I was willing to give them the benefit of the doubt, until the last little shit.
I could see him from where I was, his mouth was an inch from the menuboard, and he was bending down to do it. I could barely understand him because he was so loud it came through all garbled. I told him politely that he didn’t need to be so close for me to hear him, to which he shouted at the top of his lungs “ALRIGHT!”. Then he turned to his friend and said “She told me I didn’t have to be so close so I shouted alright at her.” What the literal fuck kid? So I replied; “Yes, I can hear you just fine” and told him his total.
Why are teenagers such raging assholes? I wasn’t that much of a twat at that age, and I tipped.
