Hello! This is going to be a post about my job about McDonald's. I have many stories about working here and am sure many more will come in the future, so I may post some more. An anthology, if you will.
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Like most Americans. Wait. Like most of fortunate Americans in this recession - I have a job.
I work at your friendly neighborhood McDonald's :D
I started at the end of the summer after I graduated high school. It is my first job, though I currently have another as well. Anyways, working here has given me a perspective on life I didn't have before. I can also tell tell how much of an asshole you are by the end of your first sentence.
I can remember my first day. I was greeted by one of my numerous managers and led to the grill by a friendly bull-dyke lesbian (we were friends until she got fired). Then I was given a mop and instructed to clean the lobby. I remember being so nervous that I was perspiring a bit. It was my first job and I didn't know what to expect.
It probably didn't help that I worked in the poor / scary side of town.
The first night was crazy, by the time I got off of work I was sure I had post traumatic stress disorder. I couldn't get the beeping out of my head and I kept waking up in the middle of the night thinking I fell asleep at work.
The following weeks continued in a similar fashion. I was labeled 'the quiet one' by many of my co-workers. In fact, that attribute was the reason I got a rather meager raise at my six month evaluation despite my stellar progress.
In reality, I was taking everything in. I came from a school on the other side of town, where the average household income was about triple than where I was working. I'm not from a well-to-do family, but we went to a nice public school (except for the stupid rules). I was suddenly surrounded by all of the people that used to scare me, and I didn't understand half of their slang.
A few examples:
Cup caking: (verb) to be flirting / 'being sweet on someone'
Scraper: (noun) an automobile that has modifications that cost more than the value of the car itself. (ex: expensive custom paint, chrome rims, etc.)
What? Is that even English you're speaking?
Also, no one likes to read here. Few people liked to read at my school, but NO ONE reads here. I spend my break reading on my iPhone and people think I'm weird.
We have a notice board in the break room about new policies, promotions, and general rule enforcement. The problem is that our managers cannot write to save their life. Every week there is a new post that has several spelling and grammatical errors. I'm not the best writer, nor do I have perfect spelling and grammar, but I at least know the difference between there/their/they're, accept/except, lose/loose, and how to spell simple words.
I have actually made an activity out of proofreading the notices every week and marking them up with my pen.
Anyways, I've digressed.
So I spent several weeks keeping put and watching everything that went on around me. Then I slowly started to talk to the people who seemed the nicest. I started at the grill and stayed there for six months. I don't think I was slow, but I was always scheduled to work with the experienced workers during the busy shifts, so I ended up on the easiest task. I would spend time trying to speed up on assembly so that I could finally be scheduled there more. In the end it was all for naught, because I was put into service, where I apparently flourished. In reality I had spent time learning how to take orders by watching the others do it and memorizing their mannerisms during lulls in the day.
I must say the first few months I was terrified of all the customers. I kept thinking if I didn't make them happy I was going to get shot (Really, I did) and always apologized.
I also learned that ghetto people really like to stretch their dollars far. They always ask for the dollar menu fries - which don't exist anymore where I work. Then they complain about the prices (Really? You can't afford $1?). And then they send back their food for the slightest reason and ask for their money back and/or free food and/or their entire order replaced.
One woman asked for a sweetened tea mixed with unsweetened tea with added lemon wedges and extra ice. The total for this 32 oz. beverage? $1.09 after tax. When she received her drink, she looked aggravated.
"Is this the largest size you have?" She asked with a sneer.
"Yes, yes it is."
"I want my money back, that isn't as large as I thought it was."
WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU EXPECT FOR A DOLLAR, BITCH!? There is a sign outside clearly marked: '$1 Sweet Tea - 32 oz.' If you don't want it, then go the fuck home and make your own god damned tea.
But I couldn't say that - rather, I just apologized and had my manager ring up her refund order.
My job sucks sometimes, but it gives me something to write about here.
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This will be the extent of this post, but expect more on the subject.
UP NEXT: Shawn, the McDonald's manager extraordinaire.
Update: Confused about the title? Let me explain. My job leaves a constant french fry smell on me (Hey, I could smell worse) and I have a strong fondness for lavender scents. My sister recently described the smell of my room as 'french fries and lavender,' which she thinks makes a good combination.
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