Make it Hot

Caution: Pick up line ahead!

So there I am in MexiGong drive-thru, doin' my SexyVoice™ when an SUV pulls up with two guys my age(ish) in it. I'm running both orders and cashier duties, so I get their credit card and make the payment. When guy 1 (G1) hands the receipt thingy back, G2 says:

"Does that receipt come with your phone number?" :D

Really?

Well, we're doing a program where we want people to call in and give good reviews. If they mention my name, even better. I figured, lets turn this into something good:

"It comes with a phone number that, if you call and leave a review of MexiGong, you have a chance to win a thousand dollars!" *ching!* tooth sparkle* "Would you like any sauce with your order?"

G1: I'd like some...HOT sauce (imagine twitching eyes accompanying this)

Me: Okay, some hot sauce. (I'm getting it set up)

G2: I'd like some fiiiiire sauce!

G1: Don't give him any; he can't have any.

G2: No! I want some fiiiire sauce!

G1: He can't have any. It's too hot and it makes him cry.

G2: But I want some!

Me: I'll give you a fire sauce. (I hold up one packet and place it on the small mountain of hot sauce.

G2: Only one?

Me: I don't want you to cry...

G1: Too bad you're married

Me: Indeed

G2: He's joking! I'm not married...

Me: (laughs, trying not to snort) Here's your food.

Next car pulls up:

Older Lady: They sounded like they were in a good mood...

Me: Hey, at least you're not flirting with me (she laughs)--not that you couldn't if you wanted to--I'm sure you'd be good at it...

People interest me.

Say Again?

Today's transcript treasures...

I mean really. I want to find these people and ask them more questions.

Att: And how did the accident damage your marriage?

Wns: It ruined our sex life.

Yay! Sex! Every transcript could use a little spicing up with some sex...

Att: I don't mean to get too personal or pry--

Get personal! Pry! Pleeeeeazzze!

Att: But how many times a week did you have sex before the accident?

Wns: Oh, every day. Then after the accident, I was in too much pain to want sex as much as he did. That's when he found that woman.

Att: Do you know where he met her?

Wns: No, and I don't care.

Classmate 1 (female) to Clssmt 2 (male): See? They're still out there, you just have to look.

And the joy of reading through a piece of the O.J. trial with my teacher deadpanning O.J. saying "I loved her. I loved her very much." with the obvious subtext is "...if I wasn't a lying sack of New York sewer waste."

That, along with a two-parter on a guy who got maced at two different bars "for no reason" made for a killer day.

Serving Up Discounts

Man comes in dressed in his air-force camos and orders his meal.

Me: And I'll throw on that military discount for you...

Him: How could you tell?

Me: Well...

Him: It must have been the hair cut that tipped you off.

(oh yeah: he was pretty much bald)

Me: Ahahaha...actually it was the Jagermeister pen.

Really, the guy took me by surprise. I like to joke around with my taco consumers, but they usually make me have to work at it. Thank you, military man, for catching me off guard!

Hide Your Car Keys

I'm on a Saturday midday shift this time, and a man comes up. I recognize him as a regular in the evening when I'm at the drive-thru.

Me: I recognize you! Decided to come in the store this time?

Him: Well, I've been drinking all weekend, so I thought I'd walk.

Me: Aaahh...

Him: 12 crunchy tacos to go?

What Effect Does MexiGong Have on the General Populace?

I'm having some interesting questions come to mind.

Such as:

What is it about MexiGong that drives people to drink?

Is there something about cheap liquor that causes munchies that only MexiGong can satisfy?

I need help to understand this....

If no one responds with a plausible thought, I might have to make something up, and NO one wants that.

The item below was found in the women's restroom and brought to me by a co-worker who knows how I roll.

Scavenger Hunt!

I got to thinking about those games and retreats that highly paid execs go to where they learn to trust each other, fall, and receive multiple awkward backrubs. Even though we’re not very highly paid, MexiGong employees deserve to experience this magic.

And I’ve thought of the perfect way.

If you read the title of this post (I know not all of you do), you probably know what I mean.

There are plenty of interesting places to hide “treasures” around then place here. I’ll let you guess which ones I have actually found items in thus far:

1. Inside the trash doors, but not inside the trash CAN
2. Inside the cubby under the soft drink area, but to the side
3. Behind the seat cushions on a funky black ledge
4. Inside the water reservoirs of the toilets
5. Jammed up inside the seat cover dispenser in the men’s bathroom
6. Taped under a table or chair
7. Hidden inside a soap dispenser next to the bag of soap
8. Tucked up under the men’s sink in the insulation

Although all of these are good ideas, (and I’m sure I’ll see them in use eventually), the answers for now are E and H.

I think the issue of the men’s bathroom is that it doesn’t have a trashcan. I mean, when it comes down to it, what normal thing needs to be done routinely in a man’s life in a public bathroom that can’t wait an hour? (Hrmmm…don’t answer that) So, when a man needs to take care of a little extra baggage, he’s going to try to find a way to stash it so that the next man (or MexiGong employee going in to clean the bathroom) won’t see, remember who came out last, and JUDGE.

The first set I found was E: Seat cover dispenser. “What?” you ask. And I would say, “An empty 4-pack of AA batteries and the packaging for KY Massage Oil For Him And Her.”

Then we would both collectively say “Eeeeeww….”

I ask you…really? I mean, I’ve got ideas for that batteries, but the other is confusing. In a MexiGong bathroom? REALLY?

As for the other item, this one I really like. I had leaned over to pick something off the floor (with gloved hands of course) and noticed an object in the H hiding place. What could it be?

It was a mostly empty bottle of Southern Comfort, I tell you! It had about a fifth left in it. I proudly bore it to the back, dodged into the break room and took a pic for you all (with my camera phone!) and tossed it in the trash. Then I invited the rest of the workers and my manager to see my prize.

Again I ask. Really? I may be heading into conjecture here, but I’m really trying to figure out the circumstances of this one.

There you are on a Monday, and by golly you need a drink! You go to the liquor store and plunk down $8.99 plus tax for a plastic bottle of Southern Comfort.

Now, you don’t want to go dumping something that’s 100 proof on an empty stomach, so you feel like a little MexiGong to take the edge off of that initial rubbing alcohol buzz.

“2 crunchy tacos to go” you say, and then “a water cup,” because of course, just because that’s what it’s called doesn’t mean that’s what you’re planning on putting in it, right? ‘Cause that would just be dumb.

Plus, you’ve already got a beverage.

You down those crunchy tacos like a crocodile yanking a struggling zebra down to the bottom of the river. Now you REALLY need a drink to dull the crunchy edges of those tacos hitting your stomach lining.

You head into the bathroom—some place private.

Before you realize it, 4/5s of the bottle is gone!

That’s all right. It wasn’t like you were planning on sharing it anyway.

Now’s where we start diverging:

A)

But then people start knocking on the door. After all, it has been an hour. In a drunken stupor, you accidentally ate the paper bag it came in, thinking it was a steak quesadilla with extra jalapeño sauce, and you can’t just carry the bottle out OPENly..sooo…you stuff it up under the sink; lodging it in the pipes and insulation.

Then, because you’re drunk, you forget it was there to retrieve.

B)

You hear cop sirens screech to a halt outside the door. Crap! They know what you did last summer! (finally…) It will be even worse if they catch you will alcohol on your person (never mind the fact that you’re reeking of 100 proof), so you stash it and hightail it out the other door.

C)

You realize that you are hungry again, so you stash the bottle and run out and get 2 more tacos. By the time you go back in, an intrepid MexiGong employee has removed it.

‘Kay, so in the comments, I would love to hear what explanations y’all can come up with for why I found this!

Good Luck on That....

Here's a tip for all you employmentally challenged out there.

If you are a creeper, or have creepy characteristics, it's usually better to be hired first before showing them off to the (prospective) employer.

"What?" you say while tucking sauce packets for later down the back of your trousers while telling the lobby cashier that if she really wants a good time when she gets off (when is that again?), she should come to your place and you guys can -----

But I'm getting ahead of myself. And possibly skating a little too close to dangerous waters should I finish my sentence.

A man came in the other day: tall, black hair/beard (would have to go--frown-y face!) and wide, frantic eyes, a large plastic WalMart bag clutched in hand.

Man: Are you hiring?

Me: We're usually accepting applications, we might be due for another rotation of hiring...

Man: I already TURNED in an application! They never called me back!!!!! (grr)

Me: How long ago was that?

Man: A YEAR!

Me: Ummm (you dingbat, for any place I know, they don't keep those things for more than a year...and if they got your application and didn't bother calling you when an interview day came around, there must have been something wrong with it) Try submitting one again.

Man: (takes app) They'd better call THIS time....

Me: Good luck (on that...NOT. *pout* Doesn't want to work with crazy, twitchy man precious)

It Must Have Been Important

Woman, after buying a couple of items: Do you have a cell phone?

Me: A cell phone? (I must have misheard this...)

Woman: Yeah, a cell phone. I need to call my sister.

Me: No, (not for you to use) I'm (not) sorry.

There are at least 4 things wrong with this. Can you find them all? Bonus points are available...

Work Snippits

Woman: I'd like a bean burrito with no onions, no red sauce, and no mustard.

Us: Okay...

Me to coworker: make sure you note that part about the mustard down on the wrapper so she knows for sure.

3 variations of the comment:

Them: "You have such a nice manner! You're far to nice to be working at MexiGong!"

Me: I'm glad you think so! Could you call the number on the back of the receipt and let my bosses know? You might win a $1,000! (Ha, as if)

What I'm thinking: raaaiiiissse....

Her: Three kid's meals with Sprite

Us: Nachos or (desert item that would totally give away where I worked, because it's a secret and all) on those meals?

Her: That's fine

Us: Pardon me, but WTF?

Redgirl's dulcet voice strikes again: On one day, got three comments.

Woman: You have such a nice drive-thru voice!

Me: Teehee, thanks. I used to work at a hotel. Some dude even wanted to let me know it was sexy.

Woman: (eyes light up) Oh! Yeah! I wanted to tell you that your voice would be perfect for phone sex!

Me: (smiles, thinking: Oh? And how's the money in that? Do you know anyone who's accepting applications? 'Cause, you know the money AND the hours have got to better than here...)

Co-worker food preparer on one side of the food line (A): Ok, got the 12 crunchy taco pack here

Co-worker food preparer on the OTHER side of the line (B): Um...YOU made the crunchy tacos?

A: Yeah...you asked me to.

B: I thought I asked you to make the soft tacos and burritos...

A: No...

(cue frantic looks. side one gets started on other items, and there appears a bag of available crunchy tacos in the break room. redgirl avoids buying dinner that night and has tacos instead)

Weeewaaa...(kind of) looking forward to work tonight. I prepared by drinking several shots of espresso and practicing my "earnest" flavored smile in the mirror.

I'm Sorry (No You're Not)

This is not a rant blog.

That being the case, every now and then, I notice something that I feel compelled to point out, and thus drag any readers I actually have down the rabbit hole of justification and rationalization with me. So let's go.

I have a thing about people not really meaning what they say. I reference my post on people asking "how you are?" I'm not sure I put up a post on it, but the same goes for people saying the dreaded words "we should do coffee sometime." When I whip out my calender and say "OK, what time looks good this week?" and I catch the "deer in the headlights" look, I know that they didn't mean it. Then comes the interesting task of trying to let them off the hook without them realizing you've realized that they didn't mean it. It just gets awkward.

Something I've noticed while working the drive-thru window of MexiGong is the particular habit many of my coworkers have of saying "I'm sorry" every time they mishear or mispunch something in.

Example:

Them: 5 tacos please.

Us: Okay, crunchy tacos.

Them: I wanted them soft.

Us: Sorry about that...Okay, 5 soft tacos?

Problem 1: They aren't sorry. Why should they be sorry? It wasn't really a mistake per say. Misunderstandings happen. Between you and the customer, the order will be resolved to proper correctness, and throwing out a casual "sorry about that" does not mean you are sorry. Which leads to...

Problem 2: Getting into the habit of saying sorry when you don't mean it. It's kind of like the "how are you" thing. It feels uncomfortably like lying to me. It becomes something you just say, soon to be devoid of any meaning whatsoever.

When I'm taking an order, I only apologize when something was truly a mistake on my part, not just when the customer misspoke and therefore I mispunched. And when I apologize, you can hear that I actually mean it.

It just makes me want to put my plan into effect.

A) win the lottery

B) open a restaurant of the fast food variety solely for the purposes of the following experiment:

All my employees must be absolutely truthful. When asked how they are doing, they must tell it like it is. If they are not sorry, don't say it. If a customer is being rude and crazy, you are not required to be nice. When catheter Carl comes in, you do NOT need to give him dollar bills for his skeezy pennies.

What about you? What sorts of things do you find yourself saying that you don't mean, just because it's part of your job or your life?

Taco Tales: With Extra Lettuce Because I'm Dieting

I'm happy to report that the little snippit that I wrote about insuring your spouses was not even the GOOD part of the week! I had a fantastic night at the drive through last night, in that I got me some storyz for y'all. (yes, I work tirelessly at this. it's not easy, and you're not always worth it, but I have hope)

Over the headset, I heard Lettuce Lady, aka Mrs. Iceberg ordering a tostada. She said she wanted extra lettuce, then started asking for extra of things that aren't on the tostada to begin with. My co-worker tried to explain what all was on the item, but Mrs. Iceberg wasn't having any of it. SHE knew what was most important:

"I want extra lettuce! Because you guys are real stingy with your lettuce! You only put like a tablespoon on and call it good!"

Any more lettuce than normal would really be like ordering a taco salad on a crunchy taco plate.

Man pulls in the the drive thu, finishes his order and wants a drink. 

Me: What would you like?

Him: Tall Pepsi

Me: Pardon?

Him: Tall Pepsi

Me: (silence) So...a small?

(silence, as he contemplates what he's said)

Him: Yes, actually

(we both bust into laughter, adversely affecting my menu time quotas)

Me: Starbuck much?

Him: You have no idea.

Man: I want your new burrito combo (It's a HUGE burrito, people. Around 700 calories, surpassed only in the amount of sodium -- more than 3 TIMES the amount of calories! I said this place isn't inherently unhealthy. I didn't say you wouldn't blow up like Aunt Marge and need to be buried in a piano box if you wallowed in the trough of uninhibited consumption...)

Me: And what would you like to drink with tha--

Man: And I want that new quesedilla, the big one (750 calories: cha-chEEENG)

Me: Ok...and what did you want to drink with your combo?

Man: Can you make it an extra large? And since I'm on a diet....I'll take a diet Pepsi!

Me: (confused as to his definition of the words "diet")

Car load of young men comes through. At the menu, they are scatter-brained, can't seem to put a coherent sentence together. They keep saying the wrong thing and giving me the old

"Why is THAT there? THAT'S not what I ordered!"

(Me) "....That's the number one combo that you ordered..."

(Him) "Oh. I didn't mean that one...."

They get up to the window, and it's 4 guys in a teensy li'l old car. And it's obvious that they're all higher than Lawnchair Larry ever made it. 

Why, you ask?

Hyper man one says: "This is--this is--that is why I don't do drugs. Ever. I would be, you know, even more messed up--confused by that menu---even now than I am...

Me: Uh huh...

Hyper man two: Hey! What time do you get off? What are you doing when you get off?

Long time readers will know that I have encountered this question before, and with disastrous, yet humorous results.

Seeing as my boss was standing not too far behind me, I decided not to play with the poor drunk boys.

"Midnight, and then off to sleep!" Flash quick smile, hand food, slam takeout window.

Coworker: You should have gotten their numbers!

Me: Huh??

Coworker: Their numbers! You should have asked for their numbers!

Me: I didn't WANT their numbers....

Boss: You should have asked for their numbers...

Me: I would have liked to play with them...'Would you like some (breath) sauce with that?' <--- in my best seductive voice

Boss and Coworker: They would have given you their numbers...

All these happenings are slowly trying to eradicate the little room in my mind where lives the infamous "Catheter Carl", as some ladies from my church call him. Ah well, there's the good, the bad, and the Carls in every work place. 

And now, for some audience participation:

What is the good, the bad, and the Carl where you work? Where you've worked in the past? On your morning commute?

That Certain Boquet...

Welcome to today's lesson on the the five senses.

 These are:

Touch, sight, hearing, taste, and smell. 

If something is hot or painful, you can choose not to touch it (unless you are tied up, but we'll ignore torture...for the moment). If something is ugly or frightening, you can close your eyes or look away (...but that doesn't mean it's not there). If you don't like what some one's saying, you can put your fingers in your ears and begin a litany of "lalala". And taste? Why, do what we tell toddlers every day: Don't put that in your mouth!

While smell may seem simple as well, events of yesterday have proven otherwise.  See, there is a polite way and an impolite way to defend against each offense; like with hearing. I simple wear noise cancelling headphones to avoid vapid conversation* such as:

"Oh HELL no! She did not just wear that! She's black! B**** can't f***in' wear no booty shorts like no white girl!"

"She ain't GOT no booty!"

"Well black girl gotta have booty or she no f***in' black girl!"

*Ahem*

Problem with smell is, the most you can do is breathe through your mouth...but what then when your mouth tastes bad?

The man who got on the city bus must be the smartest guy in the world--there's nothing like securing your personal space than body odor that would drive a mother polar bear to offer her young to a wandering seal shaman on a floating iceberg if he would cut off her nose.

Told you that to tell you this:

At work, there's a man who comes in the evening and sits in a corner table, just gets himself a small soda cup, and camps for hours. The story goes that he's killed someone. Why? Because that's what he tells someone here about once a week. And who are we to argue with a murderer? Exactly. Also, after he uses the bathroom, the idea is to check it. If you do, you will get the reward of discovering a couple little liquor bottles. Empty because he has emptied them into his cup of soda.

Unfortunately, I've never had lobby at the right time to *discover* these treasures.

Friend of Bum1 comes in, we'll call him Bum2. Bum2 stinks. He stinks so badly that after about 10 minutes, the smell has wafted over to and behind the counter and sits there as a stagnant swamp miasma. Bum2 orders some burritos for himself and Bum1. He asks me to grill them AFTER he has paid. And, well, the computer doesn't let me do a side order of grilled by itself. You have to do it TO something, and we do charge for it. (don't ask me why. the only reasons I can think of include words like corporate conspiracy and racket) Then he wants a water cup. 

*Sigh*

We go ahead and grill them anyway, and I'm to tell him that next time, he has to tell us before or no-go. Like that's going to happen. Then, while we're making his food, he disappears into the men's commode.

CoWorker: You know he's going in there to take a shower.

Me: Why did you tell me that....

I notice that his water cup has something other than clear liquid in it, so it adds to the speech I have to give when he comes out. I tell him all this, and he pretends to listen while I pretend to believe him when he says he won't do it again. 

What is surprising to me is that the smell has gotten worse. I don't know if the water somehow released some sort of pent-up....something....or what. What I will say is that it was difficult not to lose my dinner, especially as I had to hold it together for another 2.5 HOURS. 

And you can't perform good customer service while pinching your nose.

The final point of this is that I do understand how difficult it can be for the homeless or those of limited means to find regular access to bathing facilities (other than our restroom), but:

: even for paying guests, 2 1/2 hours is excessive

: my normal guests don't leave chunks of food ground into the floor and liberally smearing the table where they are sitting. 

I'll take a drunk murderer over a skeevy slob any day.

*This is real. I am so not making this up. It was hilarious!

Commotion!

Ah, MexiGong! You never cease to delight me with not only your customers, but with the bonus events for your regulars!

First, you sent in Steve. Steve told me that he came in because our drive-thru was closed.

Steve: I thought it was strange, but I figured maybe you're just fixing it.

Me: Our drive-thru is open (I gesture). What would make you think so it was closed?

Steve: (Points in opposite direction) But it had signs on it saying it was closed!

Me: That's the drive-thru that belongs--er--belongED to the locally owned Mexican restaurant next door that shut down last year....

Steve was good...but you had a pleasant surprise for me. You weren't done for the night! You sent in Chad, the hopeful flashlight salesman to dart in and out of our drive-thru trying to sell a flashlight, but succeeding only in being creepy! Folk were kind of concerned; locked their car doors and such, but *I* enjoyed the fruits from your degenerative tree!

And then told a manager. I want to keep my job in your hallowed halls, after all...

When I was on my lunch, you invited the cops over for a spot of "bathroom commotion". Two of them. Must be close friends of yours, interrupting the dinner hour like this. I tried to conceal my curiosity, not wanting you to be ashamed of your employee. I knew I could get the facts from another such. In the mean time, you had another surprise! The women's bathroom looked like someone had taken 2 1/3 tacos, crushed them in a ceramic bowl and added liberal sauces of every hue, then allowed their 2 year old to paint the bathroom with the debris!

And someone gave that child a stool...as I reflect how high up some of those deposits are...

I noticed another thing, but I wanted to ask about it before I bothered you with it. After my inquiries, I have no choice.

Dearest MexiGong, Do you know where the women's restroom trash can is? It's a small little thing, lithe and black; sits between the wall and the commode? It was there when I came on shift, and there when I started my lunch. But now, you see, it's gone. No trace of it remains. Yes, I've looked everywhere--outside, in the restaurant, in the men's bathroom (oh the horror!). I just though you might like to know, knowing how women can be and all. 

But oh, MexiGong! You saved the best for last, you playful gong you! I mean, when I found out why the police were there! I have it from a number of witnesses that the aforementioned young man (Chad) attempting to sell his flashlight was found passed out in the men's bathroom with his trousers down. So the police came. And they found paraphernalia of a *particular kind* on his person. 

Which of course they did.

I would think passing out on the floor of an as yet un-mopped fast food restaurant bathroom floor pretty much requires you to be high.

So? Any ideas where the trash can has gone? Perhaps how much the druggie got for his flashlight in the drive-thru? (considering he bought something about 10 min before the "incident") Anyone passing out in y'all's various places of employment? Share the love!

Would You Like Some....Sauce With That?

I really like to take orders at the *restaurant* where I work.

This is for a couple of reasons:

A) It means I'm not having to clean anything. Taking orders is actually the most fun part of work.

B) I can use accents if my boss isn't around.

C) I like hearing what idiots people can be and commenting on this stupidity with my coworkers.

D) Come on! I get to talk on a cool ear-radio-thingy!

The other day, I was working with the General Manager; I was taking orders, she was collecting money, and she said to me "You have a really nice voice over the radio."

It got me thinking of a story from back In the Inn.

I *do* like to pride myself on my speaking skills--heck, for almost three years, talking on the phone was my job. It's all in how you pitch it and modulate it.

So there I am at the desk with GreyGirl the morning after a big town party, and a call comes in from one of the rooms.

Me: Front Desk (in my sultry, seductive way that I have*)

Him: Can I get some Gatorade?

Me: We have some here at the front desk...

Him: Can't you bring it up to me?

Me: No.

Him: Oh. (silence) Okay, I'll come down. Hey, did anyone ever tell you? You have a sexy phone voice.

Me: Hahaha....thank you....

Him: Tell you what. When I come down to check out, I'll wink at you, and if you like what you see, you can wink back!

So, an hour or two later a group of guys came up. I was busy with someone else, so they went up to GreyGirl.

Him: Did I just talk to you on the phone?

Her: Probably.

Him: So...what do you think?

Her: About your bill?

Heheheh...you see, I hadn't told her of the little exchange, so she had no idea what was going on. She said later that it would have been nice if I had clued her in. Ah well...

The idea of the front desk clerk having relations with the guests is always an interesting subject for me. (Espesh since Spoon Man) After hearing that, I really REALLY wanted to, when I needed to call rooms up to do the husky thing.

"So you need some...fresh...towels?"

"I'll have that sheet sent up...sir..."

(OBVs I can't say it for you on this here blog, but just try to imagine it)

When guests came from other countries, we had to be careful because (I hear) in some places, the clerk comes with the room, ifyouknowwhatimean. So lifeshighway, the question is not "does the carpet match the drapes" but "Does the hair match the decor?" Luckily, we had no Red Rooms at our place.

What about you, Dear Readers? Ever showed signs of Cruise Ship Syndrome**? If so, by all means share! My ears are burning for a good story ;D

*Being another RedGirl secret, I am loathe to divulge the particulars of what makes my voice so attractive to the opposite sex. However, since it's really just between me and you 30 or so readers, what's the harm in spreading the *love*? Coming soon then, you TOO can pick up a date! Love is just a phone call away! (And it had better stay that way, 'cause once they see you, all bets are off. But not you, my readers! I know you're all an attractive bunch)

**Being a disease in which, finding one's self in a place far from home, an attraction is had for either staff or other travelers that both know will not last, but continue to adamantly refute this notion to each other. Hmmm, I should write about romance more often! I seem to have so much to say on the subject! Even better that I have no experience; it keeps my explanations from being cluttered by facts! Hateful things, facts...

A Few Whacks on the the MexiGong

Considering that court observations are going to be rather prominent while in school and (hopefully) even more so when I get out, I now christen these new tales in the tasty rhyme-mation of Court Report.

I took copious notes, jotted down some real zingers uttered....in an actual courtroom setting. 

I know. 

Awesomely stupendous, oi?

So, tomorrow, we'll have a big helping of "So by saying suspended, you meant my license was, like, suspended?" followed by a tureen of phone threats and name calling. Entree is a pile of unopened Christmas presents, and for dessert, a dollop of brothers from different mothers spritzed with rhetorical questions from the Bench. 

But that's tomorrow's menu. 

Today, you get commentary on MexiGong. (I think of you, Funder, every time I use that, with a snicker)

At every one's nonspecific faux Mexican fast food restaurant, we have combos. Does this sound familiar? One of the most common things I hear:

Them: I want the number 4.

Me: With what to drink?

Them: I don't want nuthin' to drink

Me: Sooo...you just want to purchase 3 tacos?

either

Them: No (you idiot), I want the combo, just no drink!

or

Them: Uuhh...yeah, I guess so

My comment on this is that I think it's the pictures that draw people. Combos have pictures. The see and go "oooh! I wanty!"

Then we have Mrs. Layt. Mrs. Layte came in the Monday of Christmas week. She wanted to purchase some $5 gift cards.

Me: I'm sorry, we don't carry those. We normally carry the $10 and $20 ones, but we only have the $20 ones in stock right now.

Mrs. Layt: That's ridiculous! You had them last year!

Me: I'm not sure the company makes them anymore, because all the promotional posters only have the two I mentioned.

Mrs. Layt: You're wrong...I can't believe you people! I drove all the way down to get here--a half hour--and you're saying you don't have them?! I always get them for my family for Christmas. NOW what am I going to do???

I think it's interesting that we aren't allowed to run out of a product; that it was OUR fault that she couldn't do the easy-breezy Christmas shopping she wanted to do. She also tried to make me feel guilty for not having them when she had to drive all the way down here.  I don't know about you people, but I'll usually check on something like that if the drive is more than 15 minutes and it was all that I wanted to get. (Plus, I used patented RedGirl strategies on dealing with people trying to guilt-trip you! Works every time! As seen on the Internet! Which was invented by Al Gore! Which rhymes with smores! I like smores! They have chocolate in them....)

Then we had a woman come back after having gone through the drive-thru. She was standing to the side, waiting, while a manager was doing something on the line (food prep).

Me: What's the issue?

Coworker: She went through the drive-thru, and when she got her food home....half an hour later...it was cold.

Me: She came back for THAT?

Coworker: She's really very upset.

What really brightens my day though, is something that lifeshighway will give me black marks for, but something that, if you people know me at all should be obvious. 

I love it when people come in and order something that's not on the menu anymore.

For example:

Them: I'd like a chicken flatbread sandwich.

Me: I'm so sorry...(not) but we don't carry those anymore.

Them: (get really upset and lost looking) But I loved those!!! (proceeds to make it my personal fault we don't have them anymore. OBVs I knew he really liked them, and had a problem with him personally, so ripped down the signs when I saw him coming and bribed the rest of the staff to be in on it)

Repeat this with the enchilada burritos, the 12 taco pack, the giant, calorie laden chalupa, and several other burritos. I love the crestfallen looks on their faces, the betrayal in their eyes. "I loved you, how could you do this to me?"

It's really all I can do not to laugh.  Even my lips twitch a bit while I try to distract them with sad eyebrows. 

Any things y'all find funny in a similar vein? Don't be shy! No one's judging you! (except me. I'm always judging)

Taco Tales: Interactions

I was chatting with a friend about work:

Him: I never go there

Me: Why? Don't like the food?

Him: Oh, the food's fine. It's the, you know, PUBLIC.

Me: True, that is the downside.

So, I'll share a few treasures just in case you can't imagine the entertainment yourself.

(A)

Even though my workplace is a completely generic, non specific Mexican-style fast food eatery, I think the general public knows the nature of combo meals in that they come with a drink...that's the point.

So when Ms. Starving pulls into the drive-thru and says she wants combo number 5...

Me: And what did you want to drink with that?

Her: I don't want nothin' to drink!

Me: So you don't want the combo?

Her: I want the combo, just don't be chargin' me fo' that drink!

Me: Ok (removes combo and just punches in the three tacos)

(B)

I've just clocked in and am waiting to get my drawer. At the beginning of a shift, we count our drawer to make sure it's at the right amount, then we are assigned to a register. I don't have my drawer yet.

A man is lurking around the counter, looking at the menu:

Me: Sir? Were you wanting to order?

Him: (nothing)

Me: (waits for a minute, he's still perusing) Were you needing to order today sir?

Him: (nothing, so I can only assume he plans on taking a while)

Him: (after a minute or two of me standing there) I want a medium soda and a --

Me: I'm so sorry, I don't have my drawer yet; let me find someone to take your order.

I go to get someone, but when I turn around, he's gone. Huh? I get my drawer and go to open the register. He pops out from somewhere and comes up to me again.

Him: (mumbles something or other; I can't make it out)

Me: I'm sorry, what was that?

Him: (mumbly mumbly, then something that sounds like:) How long have you worked here?

Me: I'm sorry, I can't understand you....

See? You should be proud of me! I'm starting to remember not to answer just any question!

Him: (gives me a really dirty look and says:) You understood me (and then walks away)

What was strange was that I was getting the *trying to pick you up* sort of vibe which is really strange because I never get that, even when it's happening. Things have to be pretty straight forward for me.

However, that does NOT mean approaching it like the following man:

I'm at a bus stop in a shady part of Sac and a man of questionable demeanor (and dress. and smell. and age. and, well, everything) approaches me.

Bum: You got any change?

Me: I don't carry cash, sorry (truth)

Bum: (sidles a little closer) Hey...you got a boyfriend?

Me: No (truth, should have lied)

Bum: You want one? (leers)

Me: No (broad lie, specific truth. Don't want YOU)

Bum: How 'bout a husband? You want a husband? (smiles)

Me: No (broad lie, specific truth. want one...with TEETH!)

Bum: (disappointed)

Me: (mildly creeped out, excited for future blog post on the subject)

Taco Tales: Learning Curve

When you start a new job, there's an inevitable learning curve:

You start, screw up a lot

Hmm...I kinda know my way around now...

Yay-ya! I'm not half bad!

I thinks I gots this!

Oh (expletive deleted) I guess not...

Yup. That last stage happened last night. Maybe aided by the fact that I forgot my hat on the bus from Sac (hopefully I can get it back today). Walked in early to finish changing, realized I'm missing my hat (I'm still more than 5 minutes early at this point) and I'm about to call the bus company. The girl on the register calls over that they need me to clock in NOW!

Me: "I'm trying to locate my hat. Do we have a spare?"

Her: (to shift leader) Do we have a hat?

Him: (yells over) No! We don't have any extra HATS!

'kay. I could tell he was busy. And, to give him the benefit of the doubt, maybe the last 3 people came on by asking that same question.

But seriously? Not only are you going to ask me to clock in early, but you're going to get your knickers in a bunch because I was going to use that extra 5 minutes to locate said hat?!

Fortunately, they found one...eventually. When I was done with my shift, I stashed (ie HID) it in case I can't have someone get it from the bus depot by later today.

So, today's count:

Hopeful leers of teenage boys: 1

Kids I was consciously nice to keep my job: 5

Kids I probably slighted because I didn't remember to be nice to them: um...a lot?

Vans with a vase of flowers attached above the passenger's door to stick straight up out of the roof along with a Breyer-type horse super glued to the top-middle-front of the roof with a sting tied to a hoof with the other side tied somewhere inside the car in case the glue failed: 1

Women who rode in said van than wanted to tell me (and did) about morbidly obese friend who is in the hospital with kidney problems who is on dialysis who "is probably gonna die real soon" : 1

Husband of said woman of said man that was in the bathroom for around 1/2 hour and the reason I waited another half hour to check it: 1

**so...what do you think? "Taco Tales"? Slap the icon on whenever? "Bell Blogging"? Other ideas?

Gnomes!

I used to be a bit indifferent about lawn ornaments even though I recognized that the pink plastic flamingo was the height of tackiness. (And glowing ones? Don't get me started...)

 

After discovering the Yard Art Game, these views changed. Now, I am a somewhat rueful champion of the lawn gnome...and of golden manatees. Which I hear are selling rather well on cafe press these days.

 

Which was why, when working the drive-through window at Taco Bell last night and  young man in a dented green truck pulled up for his Fat Fiesta (*ahem* His XL Chalupa) I was a bit taken aback by the contents of his truck bed.

 

Three lawn gnomes along with a few cuttings and a shovel.

 

If you know me at all, are a regular reader, you know the kinds of things I started thinking. Is it not a heinous crime to steal a gnome? Were they kidnapped? Used as payment for "lawn service"? (hey, you know what they say about gardeners and pool boys) Possible Mafia hit with shovel to bury the evidence?

 

Of course, much in the spirit of learning as a Walmart clerk not to comment on items bought, I wasn't going to bring the subject up. "So, uh, nice gnomes you got there...." See? Awkward....

Sexual Harassment

What do YOU know about sexual harassment*?

 

I mean, I assume it's bad. What I don't expect is for you to show me a lengthy video featuring a man in suspenders and a 90's haircut in front of a large empty fish tank outlining in explicit detail how exactly to go about doing said harassment if you so chose. With "skits" of each type. (I mean, it's also possible that they WERE real, and whoever was manning the security footage let it go so's they could get the goods for a training video that they could then copyright and sell to various franchises across the country)

 

Sexual Harassment Option 1:

 

Bug people for dates even when they said no. Then, follow them into the stock room and when your backs are to each other, poke out your butt and gyrate it on theirs. You will know you are successful if you hear cries of "hey! stop it!". Then explain to the young handsome manager that touching other people in the stock room is unavoidable. This option works best if you are slightly creepy-looking to begin with.

 

SHO 2:

 

Get yourself into a management or supervisory position so you can force your minions to enter into "relationships" with you. This is an especially good option if you are a woman in your mid 30s and want a little action with some of the hot young stuff. Make sure you use the word "relationship" when making your flirty advances. This is suitably creepy, yet defendable to your superior: "I want working relationships with ALL my lackeys".

 

SHO 3:

 

Find the middle-aged man on staff (all restaurants are required to have at least one for diversity's sake). In the break room, pressure him for details about his date the previous night. Because he told two young women less than half his age about the date hoping they could offer...advice? Hangout hotspots? A shoulder to cry on when it didn't go well? Make sure you and your sycophant flank him so he can't get away easily. Then pull out the thumbscrews and grill him about his lady friend. Fun for all! (except him)

 

SHO 4:

 

This option is good for men, because I think only they can pull it off with the proper amount of offensiveness. (how much offensiveness? a LOT. Trust me folks, to do this, you need to be able to leer, and I haven't yet met a woman who could leer half as well as a man) So. You need to grab the person you want to make uncomfortable for a makeshift ruse, like taking inventory of the canned goods closet. Then, halfway through, look behind her at the woman loading up a cart with unidentifiable objects. Then say "Man, look at THAT! What a body..." Your victim will try to get back to work, but you should pepper the conversation with more snippets such as "Hot damn, how does she even work here with a body like that" and "I'd sure like to get my hands on those curves". With the proper facial expression, it will do wonders for your reputation (as a lecher).

 

 

So, especially as we got to the end, I found myself excited about all the ways to harass someone that I hadn't known about before. And then suspender man came on again and said "Sooo...all that stuff we just showed you? Yeah, don't do any of it." Me: "The why the heck did you SHOW it to me and get me all excited??!!"

 

I also find it interesting that these videos and courses are always about your fellow co-workers and never about the public, which happens a whole heck of a lot more.

 

*yeah, yeah. SH is not for the weak of stomach, or even for ppl who actually strive to be morally righteous. Perform these options at your own risk, and the risk of pepper spray. Redgirl is not responsible for your subsequent unemployment and/or possible incarceration. Be good boys and girls.

Job!!

Some of you know that I'd been looking for a job, and moreover, that I got one.

Where you ask?

At "Mexi Gong", the bell of all tacos: "Mexican inspired" quick cuisine as a "Service Champion". (as opposed to a Food Champion)

And you, my readers know what this means. Oh yes. Delicious stories in the customer service field of the kind I am so good at. I doff the vest and tie for the Ball Cap of Knowledge and the Polo Shirt of Barely Restrained Enthusiasm.

To kick things off, my next post will walk you through the videos and training material because I had too....and I am firmly in the school of thought that misery and suffering loves company. (Plus I had to restrain my laughter at some REALLY inappropriate times because the manager might think I wasn't taking things like sexual harassment seriously. As if.)