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Medium Dawn Felagund of the Fountain

Foodservice Dispatches

The (Cyber) Bag of Weasels

bread and puppet

"About as much fun as a bag of weasels"...when I first saw this Irish adage, it made me think of the life of a writer: sometimes perilous, sometimes painful, certainly interesting. My paper journal has always been called "The Bag of Weasels." This is the Bag of Weasels' online home.

Foodservice Dispatches

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pissed off unicorn
I think that Bobby and I had the worst Taco Bell experience ever last night, and as Taco Bell is not exactly a purveyor of haute cuisine, this is something of an accomplishment. Bobby and I had an early pseudo-supper at the Renaissance Festival that consisted of a turkey leg for him, falafel for me, and a shared order of stuffed jalapenos, so by eleven last night, we were hungry again. And what is open after eleven on a Sunday in Carroll County but Taco Bell?

Actually, this might have been the worst fast-food experience ever, period. Bring out the trophy!

Following is a rough transcript of how things proceeded.

Employee at Counter: *blank stare*
Dawn: Hi!
Bobby: Howya doing?
Employee at Counter: *mumblemumble*
Dawn: ...
Bobby: ...  ...  Oh! ... What do you want, babe?
Dawn: Um, okay, a nachos bell grande, please, without the meat?
Employee at Counter: *tippity-tappity on touch screen*
Dawn: *waiting* ... And ... *waiting some more* And two bean burritos?
Employee at Counter: *tippity-tappity* What kind of beef?
Dawn: (Huh?) *ahem* I'm sorry?
Employee at Counter: What kind of beef?
Dawn: Oh. Um ... they're bean burritos.
Employee at Counter: Oh. *tippity-tappity* Two?
Dawn: Yes, please.
Employee at Counter: That all?
Bobby: No, I'd like a #4, please, with soft-shell tacos and beans instead of the beef on everything.
Employee at Counter: *tippity-tappity* Okay. *tippity-tappity* (Tetris high score! w00t!) Um ... a what?
Bobby: A #4?
Employee at Counter: What's on that?
Bobby: ...  ...  ...  *recovering senses* *glances at board* A Mexican pizza and two tacos?
Employee at Counter: Two tacos ...?
Bobby: Yes, soft-shell, please and
Dawn and Bobby (in unison): Beans instead of beef on everything.

(Aside: This is the detail most-often messed up on a vegetarian Taco Bell order. Many were the nights, in the follies of our youths when we did not check the bags afore arriving at home, where we went hungry thanks to the meat mistakenly placed upon our orders.)

Employee at Counter: *tippity-tappity* *tippity-tappity*
Dawn and Bobby: ...
Employee at Counter: *tippity-tappity* *tippity-tappity* (I have launched a nuclear attack on Russia from a Taco Bell touch screen! Mwahahaha!) *tippity-tappity* That's $8. *tippity-tappity*
Dawn: (Wow, that seems kind of low.) *notes Production Lady just heaped a scoop of beef on her nachos*
Bobby: *gets out cash* *takes receipt*
Dawn: *checks receipt* *notes that nothing was entered vegetarian and Bobby's order was entered completely wrong* Um ... Bobby? That guy rang in your order as just a Mexican pizza ...
Bobby: *takes receipt and attempts to explain to the guy what he wanted, a #4, not just a Mexican pizza*
Dawn: *trying to politely get the attention of the woman behind the counter, who just heaped a scoop of beef onto Bobby's Mexican pizza* *ahem* *shiftshift* Um ... *cough* Ma'am? Excuse me?
Production Lady: Yes?
Dawn (woeful): That order isn't supposed to have meat on anything.
Production Lady: *glances at screen that does not in fact indicate anywhere that the order is vegetarian* It doesn't say that on the screen.
Dawn: I know, I'm so sorry. I didn't want you to finish the whole order ...
Production Lady: Um ... thanks. *tosses out half of finished order*
Dawn: *woe* *wrings hands* *dramatic sigh* *thinks of hungry children in Africa and food wasted and production people pissed off*

Two minutes later ...

Bobby: *emerges from attempt to remedy order with Employee at Counter ... scathed*
Dawn and Bobby: *simultaneously try to explain to Production Lady that the second order with two soft-shell tacos is also vegetarian (because of course, despite two-minute's worth of *tippity-tappity* it was not entered as such ... though rumor has it that a space shuttle was launched in the Arizona desert last night based on a complex code entered into a Taco Bell touch screen ...  hmmm ........)*
Bobby (to Dawn): Why don't you get my drink and go wait in the car with Alex, and I'll pick up the food.
Dawn: *thank god* Okay. *shit I'm agnostic*

A half-hour later ...

Bobby: *opens taco to apply taco sauce* Ack!
Dawn: omgwhat?
Bobby: Look!
Dawn: *looks* *squints* *looks again* Um ... where's the ... filling?
Bobby: There's lettuce and cheese
Bobby and Dawn (in unison): And that's it.

Yes, after all the rigmarole of trying to explain our orders, Bobby's tacos had no filling except a meager sprinkling of lettuce and a meager sprinkling of cheese.

Meanwhile, I wonder exactly what Employee at Counter was typing into those touch screens ... and how exactly he expected Production Lady to know what we'd ordered if he didn't somehow indicate it to her?

Maybe he was using the screen to engage his Super Sekrit Magic Telepathy? Didn't work, apparently.

Of course, Incompetent Employees are nothing to Rude Customers. After all, an Incompetent Employee + a Call to Corporate Headquarters = Gift Certificates + Free Meals. Now my days in the foodservice trenches are long past and not likely to repeat anytime soon, but I do enjoy vicariously feeling the rage caused by rude customers that I observe while eating out. Those at the top of my list:

Picky Seaters. The type that, no matter where the host puts them, immediately glances around the restaurant, finds a more "favorable" table, and loudly declares, "I want to sit there." The cousin of the Picky Seater are those that, upon being seated at a "table," immediately declare that they prefer a "booth."

Now, there are legitimate reasons for needing a table over a booth and vice versa, and it's perfectly fair to make this clear to the host upon arrival. But (to those who haven't had the pleasure of working in a restaurant), most restaurants have a seating rotation that ensures that each server gets an equal share of the tables, which means that no single server gets overwhelmed and each customer receives adequate service. It may seem silly, but "double seating" a server at the wrong time may be the difference between a stellar experience and a harried, inattentive server. This is exactly what happens when customers demand a table in a server's section who has recently been seated once or twice already.

And the fact remains that for the majority of customers, there is no special need for a table or a booth. Both are semi-firm surfaces upon which to plant one's backside. So sit down, shut up, and eat your food.

People on Cell Phones. Does this even need stating? People on cell phones in any public venue are a pain in the ass. Alas, there are times when one must take a call in public, but there is a certain decorum as well. For example, it shows minimal respect to set down the phone and give one's full attention to the server who is attempting to assist him or her. Asking about the wine list with a cell phone in one's ear and every other word interrupted with, "Uh-huh, yeah, hold one, yeah, uh-huh," is beyond rude.

Never mind the fact that if I was dining with a person who felt that the chatty Cathy on the other end of the line was worthier of attention than his/her dining companion, I think I'd leave.

Gimme Gimme Gimme ... No one is giving you anything. So please don't order, "Give me the chicken quesadilla." "I would like the chicken quesadilla" works just as well, as does, "May I please have the chicken quesadilla?"

It may sound odd--and petty--to say, but these minor nuances of language really help distinguish people who think of servers and people who think of servants, at least to those who humble themselves to wiping up ABC food on a daily basis.

As the old motto goes: You don't want to piss off the person who spends quality time along with your food.

(And for the record, as a server and a cook, I never allowed "special ingredients" to be added to food in my sights. If this meant tattling, then so be it. But I can't say that all restaurant employees are so noble.)

Diet Coke Is Not a State of Mind. As in, a server walks up to a table and cheerfully asks,  "Hi, how are you today?"

And receives the reply, "Diet Coke."

No, my friends, Diet Coke is not a state of mind, nor is Unsweeted Iced Tea or Water with Lemon.

Probably why I was not a successful server and quickly returned to my misanthropic existence as a production employee, I used to like to play with these people.

Dawn: Hi, how are you today?
Person: Diet Coke.
Dawn: That's great to hear! I'm fine too, thank you for asking. Now may I get you started with a drink or an appetizer today?

Yes, I know that such pleasantries are verbal fluff and don't mean much. But they are pleasantries and polite for a reason. And they acknowledge a human being behind that name badge, not just an order-taker who exists to serve one's whims.

So concludes my foodservice dispatches.
  • Haha, I always love the confirmation that I'm not the only person in the world who gets pissed off about the little (and big) things concerning how people act in restaurants... and I've never worked in the food service industry! (Well, unless the "Doily Lady" who showed up to the arts & crafts superstore every day ate all those doilies she bought... she did seem to buy a lot of doilies every day!) Seriously though, I'm sure it's no coincidence that some job interviews are conducted in restaurants--they're an excellent place to see a person's manners in action.

    And I also have to add "tipping stinginess (and idiocy)" to the list--I could rant for hours about it, but I think you already know better than I do about the subject! ;)
    • Oh, do I ever! :^D The naivete of Americans to tipping practices makes me growl. I remember once having a conversation with a woman at the university who did not know (or claimed not to know) that servers make less than minimum wage and require tips as most of their salaries. She thought that tips were to reward superior service. So all this time she'd been getting average or good service and stiffing the person because she thought that was the way it worked? I wanted to ask, "Do you live under a rock?!?"

      But that would be rude. ;)

      Nonetheless, I gave up serving because I couldn't tolerate depending on another's whims for my living. Or their prejudices. It was no secret that the male servers in our restaurant made better tips for less work. That sort of discrimination is something you can fight in terms of wages. You're helpless when it's your tips.
  • Manners, people! What is so bad about a bit of manners?! Some of those pet peeves astound me, as in, "Ackpth, how can people be so rude??" Cell phones and gimme in particular, ai! *throws hands up in the air, disgusted*

    But now I have this terrible craving for Taco Bell...

    PS, Of Relevance - My boyfriend's sort-of-a-thesis topic, which he announced over the phone tonight, in a state of great excitement? "The History of Fast Food in America and it's impact on culture/society." Or something to that effect, I can't remember the last bit exactly. He's in the food service industry as well. ;)
    • I sometimes think that I studied psychology because of my experiences in the restaurant industry. It's an interesting look into human nature, to be sure!

      Has your boyfriend read Fast Food Nation? If not, I highly recommend it. (Actually, I recommend it to you too, and anyone else: It's an overall interesting book!) It discusses the history and current trends in the American fast-food industry and (perhaps most importantly) the impact of these trends on our society.
  • Rudeness/lack of basic civility is a pet subject for grousing that my daughter and I engage in frequently. Well, it’s natural because she was raised in another country (Mexico) and I was raised in another world (USA, but long, long ago). I was telling her a short while before reading this entry of trying to write while my son’s girlfriend watched a Mexican telenovela (volume turned up very loud on my TV very close to my computer). I was trying to tune it out and failing, when she breaks out in loud laughter. On the show she was watching, an older woman had opened her door, admitted some guests and uttered (in Spanish, of course) a commonplace Mexican polite phrase, “Welcome to your house; my house is your house.” A rather courtly way of saying, “Make yourself at home. Treat my house as though it was your own.” I said, “What’s so funny?” She says clearly disapprovingly, “That is sooo Mexican. Crazy Mexicans are always so polite.” I was speechless. I finally said, “What is wrong with being polite?” She says, “It’s so stupid.” I said, “I like people being polite.” She says, “To be polite all the time? You have to be kidding!”
    • She says clearly disapprovingly, “That is sooo Mexican. Crazy Mexicans are always so polite.” I was speechless. I finally said, “What is wrong with being polite?” She says, “It’s so stupid.” I said, “I like people being polite.” She says, “To be polite all the time? You have to be kidding!”

      o.O Oh, dear ... It's scary enough the lack of tact and manners people have, but when they admit that they don't have them because they think tact and manners are stupid ...?

      I read an interesting book a while back called Talk to the Hand, by Lynn Truss (who also wrote the book Eats Shoots and Leaves). It's about the fall of good manners in modern Western society. For a long time, I couldn't figure out the reason behind my insistence on proper manners. I'm not the sort who likes to be bound by rules without reason. But reading this book gave me the realization that manners stem from empathy for and consideration of other people: understanding that other people want to live comfortably and my behavior, in part, affects their ability to do so. I don't see what is stupid about that. I don't talk on my cell phone in line at Panera Bread, not because it's a "rule" of polite behavior, but because I don't want the people behind me in line to have to wait longer and I don't want the server to feel uncomfortable, trying to do her job around my phone conversation. Again, I don't see what's stupid about considering the impact of my behavior on other people.

      And I'm American-born and from the generation raised on technology (at least, the start of that generation), so I don't think it's old-fashioned or "non-American" to feel that way. Just considerate.
  • Yeah, I was a server for about 3 months and a snack bar cashier for about 6 months. Just eek. And don't you hate it when people won't look at you? I actually wait to answer until the server or secretary looks at me.
    • Your icon's purdy! :)

      And don't you hate it when people won't look at you? I actually wait to answer until the server or secretary looks at me.

      You weirdo! ;) Yes, that's annoying too. Any sort of behavior that makes the server feel like a second-class citizen or unimportant as compared to the cell phone/friends/whatever is rude to me. That person is trying to help me; the least I can do is make eye contact and give her my full attention ... maybe even smile a bit?! *gasp*
  • Yes, I know that such pleasantries are verbal fluff and don't mean much.

    On the contrary, verbal fluff is what humanity's all about. Aside from the fact that I'd think that the social experience is part of going to a restaurant - if I don't want to chat with my dining companions, talk to the servers etc, I can just heat a pizza at home, can't I... Of course, I'm a freak who's still utterly fascinated by dining at a good restaurant where the dance of etiquette makes up half the dinner.

    I have to admit that I'm guilty of using the Japanism of "I think I'll have the Chicken Quesadilla". But, you know. At least it's not "Gimme the chicken"? >_>
    • I agree that the social experience is an important part of dining out. My parents recently described the experience of sitting beside a family of four where every single person in the family spent the entire meal on his or her cell phone. I find it incredibly rude the parents who spend an entire meal on the phone while ignoring their kids or spouse. Why go out with a person if you don't want to talk to them? As you said, heat a pizza and eat at home.

      I have to admit that I'm guilty of using the Japanism of "I think I'll have the Chicken Quesadilla". But, you know. At least it's not "Gimme the chicken"? >_>

      That wouldn't bother me. I'll often say, "May I have the cheese quesadilla?" Do I expect an answer? Of course not! But it's just politer (I think) than, "Gimme the cheese quesadilla!" To me, it feels more like an even exchange between server and customer, rather than mistaking this for an exchange between slave and customer.
  • Putting in special requests at fast-food joints is always a dangerous proposition, no matter what that ancient Burger King jingle said. (For the record: "Hold the pickles, hold the lettuce, special orders don't upset us." You're far too young to remember it.)

    I have seen some wonderfully . . . well, not bad, certainly they were as pleasant as could be, but definitely . . . weird behavior from servers here in Hyde Park.

    Episode 1: Nudge, nudge, wink, wink, say no more, say no more!

    Say you're working at a funky, popular campus eatery. When undergrads need a place to go out to dinner, you and the pan-Asian place next door are what automatically pop into their tiny little minds. Since you're the closest "real restaurant" to the main quad, you're also the place that grad students go when they want to take professorial candidates out to lunch -- a mildly nerve-wracking experience for anyone looking for a job.

    A party of six walks in the door. Five attractive female graduate students, cool and collected (they're the ones doing the grilling for a change), are escorting a male job candidate. He's about their age, knows most of them, since he's the department post-doc, but they're Not His Friends today, and he knows it. You have two options. You can seat them at the big round table where they can have a nice friendly chat. Or, you can squeeze them all into a booth that's roomy for four, but not quite big enough for six, and has a large, spiky Moroccan lamp hanging very low over the table, thus surrounding the poor early-thirtysomething post-doc with five beautiful, charming, predatory females sitting real close and out for his blood.

    Where do you seat them? And did I mention that lots of your tastier entrees come with either red or orange sauce?

    Episode Two: Y Halo Thar, Mrs. Cake!

    Scene: Third World Cafe coffee shop, around noon. French Pony walks to the counter, money out, ready to order lunch, feeling inordinately chipper. The coffee shop employees smile. French Pony smiles back.)

    Male Coffee Shop Employee: I'm just cleaning out this machine that exploded. My friend will be right with you.
    FP: Okay! (FP decides to order the chicken salad sandwich.)
    Female Coffee Shop Employee: (big smile) Hi! How can I help you?
    FP: (return smile) Hi! --
    FCSE: Just fine, thank you! What would you like?
    FP: ... did I just miss a few lines of conversation there? ... um, chicken salad sandwich, please . . .
    • Putting in special requests at fast-food joints is always a dangerous proposition, no matter what that ancient Burger King jingle said.

      I'd extend that to casual dining too. Unfortunately, I don't have much of a choice. It's either take my chance on holding the meat or cook every night at home, which I'm not about to do. I need my nights off! :)

      Where do you seat them? And did I mention that lots of your tastier entrees come with either red or orange sauce?

      I can't speak of this particular restaurant (of course) but I know that a lot of places fail to understand the importance of having a good host, for the reason you describe and others. I remember studying to be a trainer at The Piece and reading the tips they offered for hosts. For example, if possible, don't sit people adjacent to others when the restaurant is empty. That gives them some space and some privacy.

      But most places consider the host to be an entry-level, throwaway position. The Piece sure did. The host was the 14-year-old on her first job who is trusted to make the first (and often lasting) impression of the restaurant.

      On the other hand, a really good host can make the experience that much better by putting parties at the proper sorts of tables (as in your experience), or with servers who will take best care of them, or helping to tie up loose ends on the floor, i.e. refilling drinks or cleaning up after parties with kids messier parties.

      One of the host-related blunders that drives me insane as a customer is the host who will seat a table and then ignore their existence. To give an example, Bobby and I had lunch one day at Chili's. The host sat us ... and we were then ignored by every employee in the store for the next fifteen minutes. The host walked by numerous times to seat other tables, yet never questioned why we still had (closed) menus and no drinks. This (to me) is equivalent to be welcomed into a person's house for a party and then ignored until you walk out the door and they call, "Have a nice night!" as you walk by.

      The point: a host can make or break an experience, as we have both found out. :)

      FP: ... did I just miss a few lines of conversation there? ... um, chicken salad sandwich, please . . .

      Teehee. Definitely weird!
  • I'm not vegan, but there was a time in my life when I kept kosher. Not rabbinic or anything, but I did do my best to avoid pork, shellfish, and the other major no-nos. (I'm religiously Christian but ethnically Jewish.) And that caused a major headache, so I can imagine your struggles in fast-food land. You survived, if not completely unscathed.

    *sighs loudly* at restaurant pet peeves. I never worked in a restaurant, but it always annoyed me when people did stuff like that. Waitresses are people, too, and stronger ones than me to put up with us customers all day.
    • I'm not vegan, but there was a time in my life when I kept kosher.

      Yikes. You understand what I mean, and worse, then. Most people have an idea what vegetarians can and cannot eat. But I can't say the same for most restaurant employees when it comes to guests who keep kosher! Like, "I'll take the turkey sandwich. Just to let you know, I need to keep kosher."

      Server: "Okay! Would you like to add bacon for 50 cents?"


      Waitresses are people, too, and stronger ones than me to put up with us customers all day.

      Stronger than me too. I loved restaurant work, but serving is one thing I'd like not to try again. Besides not liking to depend on the generosity or prejudices of others in determining my salary, servers get blamed for everything wrong with the restaurant, whether they can help it or not. Half of the cooks call out and food takes a half-hour? They feel that. Or if the guests get seated next to a screaming infant ... that's the server's fault too.

      Besides, I like jobs where I can tell rude people where to go and how to get there. ;) Not the case with serving.
  • Bobby: *opens taco to apply taco sauce* Ack!
    Dawn: omgwhat?
    Bobby: Look!
    Dawn: *looks* *squints* *looks again* Um ... where's the ... filling?
    Bobby: There's lettuce and cheese
    Bobby and Dawn (in unison): And that's it.

    Oh dear... so what did you do?

    Since everyone else is sharing their food stories, I have a good one. Kirsty and I went to Frankie & Benny's - a middle-of-the-road ("not fancy") Italian chain in the UK - a few months ago. Think "casual as Applebees" but with pizza and pasta (and American dishes too).

    Anyway, they sell a regular ole cheese pizza (it's called "margherita pizza" here), but it comes, inexplicably, with these gigantic tomato slices on top (to which I say that's NOT a cheese pizza - and remember Dad's tomato topping disaster at Pizza Hut? - but I digress). So I ordered the margherita pizza, hold the tomato slices on top. I also ordered a garlic pizza bread with cheese, which is made on the same base as the pizzas.

    Well the garlic bread was fantastic and then my pizza arrived. Kirsty and I poked at it and something didn't seem quite right. I began cutting into it, only to realise there was no sauce on the pizza (our waitress was German and we'll give her the benefit of the doubt by assuming it was a language issue). Stranger still, when we finally tracked someone down to report the error, she apparently knew about it already and said, "But you didn't want sauce." :-|

    So what, then, was the difference between the garlic pizza bread with cheese that I just ate and the cheese pizza hold the tomato sauce that you're trying to make me eat, other than the fact that the pizza is GBP2.00 more expensive? *Falls over*

    (They did fix it btw, and gave us a voucher for GBP5.00 off, which we never used because it expired pretty quickly. And I did feel bad for our German server, who was obviously new. Oh well.)

    Now how appropriate is my icon?! :-P
    • Yikes. That's a bad situation indeed. And it's one of those things where there's a tiny line between one special instruction and another (tomato sauce versus slices), yet it'd be really rude to make too big a deal out of this, like, "Now you know that it's tomato slices I don't want? I still want the sauce. You know this? Right? Can I check your notepad to be sure??" :^D
  • Dawn: *thank god* Okay. *shit I'm agnostic*

    Hahaha, well you didn't say God, so it doesn't count, right?

    "May I please have the chicken quesadilla?"

    This is what I say (only "could I..." because I talk good English), then I feel kind of silly, because what server is going to say, "No, you cannot have that!" ?

    Dawn: Hi, how are you today?
    Person: Diet Coke.

    Maybe they're trying to say that they're feeling gassy and acidic and are bound to leave a nasty aftertaste. In which case, it's quite an appropriate answer, because at least two of those things are shown to be true! ;P

    Edit: Stoopid italics.
    • Ha! Very true. Now what would you say if they replied, "Iced tea? ...

      with lemon??" :^D
      • Maybe "Iced tea" means that you are spicy and/or flowery? With lemon means you're tart. Or else a perv, and are asking for something completely unrelated to the fruit...

        ...I probably should've put that in strikethrough, eh? ;P
  • sounds like a similar situation hubby had with his friend when they went to a taco bell really late too. ^_^ though they headed home before they noticed it was a messed up order. ugh! The El Pollo Loco down the street got the order wrong EVERY TIME we went there. It didn't matter, it ALWAYS was wrong somehow. *slaps forehead*

    oy, well I hope you do get some gift certificates or something! It is so absolutely frustrating when the franchise owner and the managers actually there do nothing about it.
    • I've learned the hard way about checking orders before leaving the store or parking lot. Bobby and I went hungry once because (we were both vegetarian at the time) Taco Bell put meat on our entire order. And it's not exactly something we could pick off. :(

      I reach a point with restaurants where they mess up to a point where I just won't go back. Even coupons can't fix it.
  • Is it me or are those two employees confused about the status of beans? I mean, they are vegetables and therefore vegetarian food... O.o poor beanies, all they wanted to be were veggies.
    • Lol! Well, yes, but when you consider the state of American science education, I'm not surprised that they don't know what beans are. For example, I get this a lot.

      Dawn: I'm a vegetarian, so I don't eat animals.

      Random Person: So why don't you get the shrimp alfredo?

      Dawn: ...
      Because I'm a vegetarian, so I don't eat animals?

      Random Person: But shrimp aren't animals!

      To which I like to reply, "Then wtf do you think they are? Plants??"
  • *Agrees COMPLETELY*

    I work in a shop on a retail park, and people are so amazingly RUDE sometimes. On cell phones, or you smile, ask them how they are and get looks of disgust in return and things like that - it's horrible!

    I only work holidays, christmas, easter and summer, because the rest of the time I'm at Uni, but every time I come out of work I am raging over some customer-or-other who has driven me crazy in work.

    And, expecially now as I work in a shop myself, I hate when shop assistants are rude - I like to think that I manage to at least be POLITE to the people I am serving, even if they are being a pain/rude/whatever, so I hate when I don't get the same in shops and...ugh! I am so glad I am off work again now! This is a real annoyance spot for me, lol


    *quietens down*

    • Ack! We should rant together sometime. ;)

      I offer you this icon, one disgruntled ex-service employee to another.

      I agree too about rude people who work in the business. I make every attempt to be polite and understanding to people who work in restaurants or customer service. And so when I get treated rudely after all of that, I do not take it well at all.

      It takes zero effort to smile and take a pleasant tone of voice, for example. This goes for customers and employees.
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