Wednesday, May 24, 2006

GREG MY ASSISTANT MANAGER IS THE BIGGEST ASS EVER

I will kill him and eat his soul.

He was driving everybody so crazy today, that one of my favorite people quit on the spot. He was OBSESSED with getting three large salads ready for the dinner rush, and EVERY SINGLE PERSON THERE was like, "no we don't need anymore" finally everyone who had been argueing with him was gone; Lynn had quit and stormed out, Cindy was out having a smoke cause he wouldn't stop bitchign at her, and Lisa was on her break/ talking to Cindy. So what does he do? Take me away from the job I was right in the middle of, and FORCES me to make the salads, so I do, and then Lisa comes back in, and yells at me!!! RAWR! I was SO pissed.

So she's finally liek whatever, Greg do what you want, so I'm in the middle of making coleslaw, and Greg gets his lazy ass called front from the managment booth where he's sitting with his thumb up his ass bitching at Lisa so he can help Cindy who's on drive thru, front counter, AND kitchen. Now ten mintues before this he yelled at me for hekping her, and told me to get back to the salad. Now, as SOON, as he got up to drive thru, he fucked up the order a lot, and had two unpaid for orders at the same time (how the FUCK you do that in drive thru, I'll never know), so he made me take their money (whilst explaining every little detail to me as if I have the brain of a maggot). Then because the service time was above five minutes, Lisa came in and yelled at me, because it looked like it was my fault! And then she was like, "what;s this coleslaw stuff doing out?" and cleaned up everythign I was IN THE MIDDLE OF DOING. I explained, and she just walked away, totally pissed at me. At ME!!!!

So the customers are pissed because they've been sitting in their car for over ten minutes waiting for a FUCKING burger, I'm trying to figure out simultaneous cash, and debit transactions, while Greg rattles on and on, explaining shit I DON';T NEED EXPLAINED. He even showed me how to open the FUCKING BAG. They eventually havcing to come to the counter because not only is Greg such a douche he can't take an order in under ten fucking minutes, he also forgot to put in items of their order! So I had to take their additional order, and THEY got pissed at me, and stormed off!

I FINALLY get back to my coleslaw (which I've been yelled at for, like three times by now), and have to take ALL the crap out again, and start ALL OVER AGAIN. So then I'm finishing up the coleslaw salads, and what does Greg do? COMES OVER AND YELLS AT ME FOR NOT HELPING CINDY IN THE FIRST PLACE






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g;JWGFKJHDXF;JKSFHG;ZSFRGJH;SD RAWR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

GOD DAMN MOTHER FUCKING CUNT LICKING COCK SUCKING ASS BASTARD PENIS CLOWNING FUCKING ASS MASTER OF STUPID ANGRY SHIT FUCK


FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!!!!!!!~!!!!

and it is NOT over...

*sigh* so finally at two thirty, he's like, "I'm sending Alleah home early. there's nothing to do." Lisa, meanwhile is in the middle of training me on something, and she's like, all new people have to stay their full shift so they can learn everything. And he's like there's no point, there' nothing to train her on. And Lisa's like I'm in the MIDDLE of training her on soemthing, and he';s like, "well, i ahve to get my labour costs down" so, as you can see I DON'T get payed for the next half hour of AGGRAVATION which I am going to tell you about now.

So then they begin arguing about whether or not I can/should/will count my own till, and finally Cindy (god bless her smart ass mouth; it'll get her fired, but I love her for it) yells over both of them, "How about you ask her; she's RIGHT HERE" So Greg asks me, and I of course got trained in cashing out on Monday with Steve, the manager. So I say yes.

So I go to count my own til, and just before I go back their, lisa's like ask Greg if he should do it, or you should. So I ask. OF FUCKING COURSE he says, you should do it. SO I go back there and start doing it. Apparently, Lisa bitched at him for it, and slammed the rule book at him; LITERALLY slammed it into his chest.

So he goes back there, and I'm already done, but then he starts asking me all these questions, like, "what's this? why'd you do it that way? how much change do you have? how much is there in bills? are you sure? there'e nine twenties? there's nine? THERE'S NINE????????" panicing the fuck out of me, cause I'm just WTF did I do wrong? So finally, he interrupts one time more than I can take, and I';m like, "GREG...please, I need to count this all again, and extra numbers floating around in my brain don't help" so he fucks off in a snit, and then I have a problem: I don't know which number on the cashier receipt I'm suppsed to check the cash against...so I ask Greg.

...




BIG MISTAKE

He goes fucking off, making me recheck all my numbers, asking me, are you sure, are you sure, OVER AND FUCKING OVER again. So I'm going fucking craszy, thinking, if he's this worried oiver my til, wtf did I do WRONG? Then he shows me which number and my amount is exactly one hundred dollars over what I'm supposed to have. I'm PANICING at this point, thinkig if I could just shoot him in the face, I could figure this all out, and it would be fine. And then he starts being like, what are you talking about? You;re ninety cents over. Not a hundred dollars, and I;m like WHAT THE FUCK??? And he's like, I just did your numbers again, and at this point I'm surprised I didn't actually implode, and he shows me the nu mber, it's nintey cents off. I'm like, that isn't right, and in any case, I;m going ith MY numbers. I am PISSED right off by now. I finally figure out, that because I'm supposed to leave a $100 float for the next cashier, I added that onto my total, and that was what was making it a hundred dollars over. He starts explaing (stuttering, and talking with his hands, and making no sense whatsoever), and it takes him ten full minutes to explain...: that the number on the register is PROFITS ONLY.


HOW
THE
FUCK
DOES
IT
TAKE
TEN
MINUTES
TO
SAY

PROFITS. ONLY.


At that point, I put the money in a bag, shoved in his face, and left wihtout saying a word to anybody. Oh yeah, and did I mention, that for HALF of that, the owner was standing there alternately watching me panic, and listening to Greg whine about how nobody listened to him, and they were all insubordinate, and how he had a mutiny on his hands.


Seriously shoot me now.

14 comments:

VivaLaPinto said...

oh yeah, btw, I was over a dollar, NOT ninety cents. FUCKER

Ky said...

i feel your pain alleah...some stupid fucking things happen there! people go absolutely crazy in those places...stick it out...its money and once you know what your doing you can tell him to screw off!

Joe Guitar said...

ohhhh that is soo shit

barbara_mary said...

Work pretty much is the worst thing ever. I vote you solve problems by making tiny little voodoo dolls of the jerkass' and jab at them during work.

Richard said...

I'm surprised you didnt Yell at them, I would of. You can always find a job elsewhere. It's a grease pit theres lots of them and they all are hiring :)
But strength to yah for sticking it out and those jerk faces need to be slapped.

<>< Mantrain

Anonymous said...

Clearly the correct course of action is asking him if he was so meticulous in his love making to other women, and wonder out loud whether or not his mother yelling at him to clean his blankey half way through puts him off his rhythm or not.

Kahloke said...

*sighs* Having gone through pretty much the same hardship, I sympathize. That being said, from an outside perspective, the story's... well, kind of funny. Not really funny, but just sort of.

If they're arseholes now, they'll be arseholes later. Don't put up with this whole business for longer than you have to. Find something better; you don't deserve a grease pit.

Pineapple Princess! said...

Yeah, alleah, get a job where they respect you and your multitudinous talents :)

VivaLaPinto said...

:) thank you guys. voodoo dolls and meticulous love making skills aside, that was a more unbelievably shitty work day than your average day, and I'm happy everybody thinks I should quit--cause I agree! lol

MattyRob said...

Oh! If you are going to quit, make sure to screw with their minds on the day you leave!!!! Make sure you do everything wrong!!! Then you can leave knowing that you left a permanent mark on all of them!

So... where is this place you work at?

Kahloke said...

My suggestion would be to tear through the drive-thru in your car blaring incredibly loud rock music (I'd suggest Jimi Hendrix playing the star spangled banner) and scream into a megaphone in the manager's face "Hasta la Victoria Siempré, you fascist necrophile!" After having thrown your uniform (emblazoned with various revolutionary phrases and crude stick figures depicting your manager in black sharpie) through the window and into the deep fryer, peel rubber before they have time to call the cops.

VivaLaPinto said...

HAHAHAHAHA, Llowyn! I may actually do part of that...but you'll have to be my getaway driver. The uniform with attached voodoo dolls, though...that's choice!

And Matt, I work at A (for ass) & W (for um...W-fuckers!) yeah. that's where I work. Ass and W-fuckers.

Kahloke said...

D-E-A-Frickin'-L

VivaLaPinto said...

SHIT! My genius is delayed. I work at Asses & Whores. ASSES & WHORES!!!!

I love myself sometimes.