You Know Who You Are

So here's the routine when I come to work:

I walk in.

I punch in.

Then I go to the back 'office' area, (If you can even call it that) and I read the 'message of the day' on the white board.

The white board is very important. In it lies the endless list of things that still need to be done, fault finding, usually grammatically incorrect, an ever so slight hint of positivity (rare) and 'have a great day' message from our manager.

Terrific.

I have to hunch over to read the board most times because most everyone I work with is considerably shorter than I, and then get to work. The messages usually don't apply to me but I read them anyways.

Well, in a word I am organized.

"A place for everything and everything in its place"
--Mother

Ive been taught well.

So anyone who is like me and has worked for fast food can relate to my daily frustration.

It may sound crazy, but I choose to do the dishes of my own free will and choice every time I work. It also helps that no one else ever does the dishes anyways.

Some how (in a sad kinda way) I derive a certain amount of satisfaction in creating order from chaos.

Take the sink for example. The sink area and every available surface in the surrounding area (including the floor) with its accumulation of dirty dishes awaits my daily rescue.

What would they do with out me?

Every night I work, I turn the danger zone into a systematically ordered work environment.

My favorite thing to do is to sort all of the lids by size, shape and type. The big lids go on the bottom shelf and small lids go on the upper shelf.

Its all so simple. No one else gets it.

Well, fast forward to tonight's shift and to my nightly organizational ritual...

First I begin the routine.

I walk in.

I punch in.

Hunch over to read tonight's message which reads:

"Please don't put all the small lids up on the top shelf! They are to be in reach of me! That includes the silver ones too!...

YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE."

Not Just ANY Customer....

Setting: I am at the microwave pulling out the container of meatballs that have been thawing out for the correct amount of time. Now it is time to pour the meatball sauce and stir it in. It is late at night and my co-worker is making a sandwich for a customer who has just walked in.

Customer walks in.

Co-Worker: "Hey! How are you? Haven't seen you here in a while! Whats new?"

Obviously a friend of hers.

Me: (To my co-worker)"So do I just pour the sauce on top of the meatballs and then put it back in the microwave?"

Customer: "You know, If you divide the meatballs into two different pans, and then pour the sauce in, it will cook faster and it will be less of a mess."

Thinking to myself: (What do you know about making the meatballs? You're just a customer! I may not know what I'm doing here, but I bet I know more about this place than you do!)

Me: "Oh really? I didn't think about that. That's a good idea."

Co-Worker: "Yeah just pour some in and then stir it and put it back in the microwave."

I take the meatballs to the prep table and continue to do it my way, just in one container.

In the mean time, the customer gets their sandwich and leaves.

Co-Worker: "Do you know who that was???"

Me: "No, why?"

Co-Worker: "That was Jane, you know the head restaurant lady?"

I had heard about this lady before (of course everyone who works here knows who SHE is)I had just never met her before.

I had mostly heard.... not so pleasent things....

Me: *gulp* "Was that Jane?"

Note to self: If a customer comes in and offers you advice, they are not just ANY customer....

Sneak Attack

Setting: Walking into a restroom at work = Cleaning battle field

Cleaning the restrooms at work is one particularly disgusting job...(Only one among many I might add.)

(Further details spared for your psychological health and well being and for the continued business at this restaurant.)

So, with that in mind, one day at work it was my turn...(Uggg)...to go clean the restrooms.

I prepared for battle.

Off I went armed with only two bottles of cleaning supplies and several cleaning rags.

With great fear, not knowing if I should ever return, I enter the realm of 'rest'.

My battle plan was simple but dangerous. I had to avoid the enemy at all cost and attack them before they attack me.

I strategically placed my cleaning supplies on top of the toilet so that they can be easily accessible while I cleanse this place they call a 'restroom.'

As I begin the attack on the mirror, I start thinking to myself; "How can one possibly call this filthy place a 'restroom'? Its more like a outhouse to me..."

But then a sudden splash interrupted my trail of thought.

My eyes were torn from the half cleaned mirror.

And to my horror one of the bottles of cleaning solutions had slid from its original position...

and into the toilet.

Me: (The enemy is among us! They are trying to ambush us while our backs our turned by trying to rid us of our weapons! What a nasty battle plan! You disgust me!)

"Are you kidding me? Gross! Now I have to fish that out of the toilet? They are definitely not paying me enough for this!"