My first such abomination of a job was at a bakery/cafe/restaurant (a bacarestaurant?). The owner only had one or two of us serving at a time. The thing about this place was that not only were there tables to seat, take orders at, bus, and bring orders to, but also people in and out constantly getting coffee and delicious pastries. And the place was slammed all day because it was in the busiest part of Yuppiesville and also had a live pianist (he was such a cool dude). If you couldn't guess, it was FUCKING IMPOSSIBLE FOR ONE PERSON TO DO ALL THAT SHIT. MAN.
And the manager would just sit there and critique you with his small beady little eyes, arms crossed. His name was Mr. Boss Man *****. Everything had to be done exactly to his stupid beady little expectations. Wait... can expectations be beady? Whatever.
Anyway, my biggest problems there were a) I was late, like, everyday, which is sad because I lived across the street (see "The Checklist of Time Wasting"), and b) I could not stop eating those stupid fucking delicious pastries for the life of me. Shit like eclairs, cookies, macaroons, croissants, you name it, it was there. How could one resist? So my cheeks were always puffed out chipmunk style, crumbs all over, and my boss did not like that.
|They were too delicious.|
Sooo there I was back at work, being generally awful at serving and getting a healthy mix of complaints and horrible tips left and right. I dropped so many trays and plates (in my defense, it was my first time serving) that Mr. Boss Man ***** had to have a talk with me. He called me down to his basement office, which was creepy (duh), and told me that if I dropped another anything, I'd be fired again. So most of the time, my days went by with me struggling to keep shit off the floor and out of my mouth. Which was really really really hard.
|Pictured: Trying to give a shit, but failing.|
I started getting quite the 'tude. I talked shit about Mr. Boss Man ***** all the time and was super lazy about waiting my tables and was an all around bad employee. But what do you expect from a 19 year old college student who had way better things to do with his time and hated his job, delicious pastries or no?
Then... Then one day I was very late. An hour and thirty-seven minutes very late. On purpose. That was how little of a shit I gave.
Of course, Mr. Boss Man ***** was livid. Because, duh, I was the only one scheduled that day. Mistake (on his part).
He confronted me and was all like "NOOR Y U NO BE ON TIME". I stared at him straight in the face, and with all seriousness said "Well Mr. Boss Man *****, as much as I would like to turn back time and not be late, I can't because my time machine is broken. Deal with it." Mis. Take.
|"I think it's the flux capacitor."|
But goddamn do I miss those delicious pastries.