![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
The problem with summer at work is that we hire a certain contingent of the workforce most aptly described as 'idiots under the age of 18 who need a first job because their parents will no longer support their cel phone bills'.
Tonight, to wit:
Boy Scheduled Until 10:00: I have to go home. I have an upset stomach.
Me: But it's 6.30.
BSU10:00: But I think I ate something bad. I'm going to get really sick. I'm going to throw up.
Me: You can leave at 7.00, when Girl A gets back from her lunch.
BSU10:00: I need to leave now, though. I might throw up.
Girl A: It's hot in here.
Me: It's 81 degrees by the brewers with the 200-degree water. It's not that bad in here.
Girl A: No, it's so hot. I need to go sit down.
Me: Get a glass of ice water and take it to your register.
Girl A: No, see, I get heat stroke really easily and then I have to go to the hospital...
Me: This is a coffee shop. It can get up to 125 degrees in here. This is not hot.
Girl A: I'm going to go call [Big Boss With The Day Off] and tell him you're making me work when it's too hot.
Me: *guffaws*
She went on to take a twenty-minute ten-minute break, despite me calling her on it (twice) and when I suggested she keep a glass of ice water nearby her, she protested "But I don't want to drink water."
Great plan, kiddo. So glad you're not a prep cook somewhere, or doing piecework in a factory, where it might actually get, you know, hot.
They're just such friggin' shrinking violets, and they need so much damn direction. Tonight they were standing by the door, holding their stuff, waiting to leave, when there were dirty rags strewn everywhere. a load of dishes still waiting to be washed, and whipped creams not made. I don't need everything to be perfect when I leave at night, but the mess gets cleared away and the prep for the next shift gets done. That's just the way it is.
Next time I work with that crew, all their cel phones are going in the safe.
*sigh* Seems like that's just part of summer.
Tonight, to wit:
Boy Scheduled Until 10:00: I have to go home. I have an upset stomach.
Me: But it's 6.30.
BSU10:00: But I think I ate something bad. I'm going to get really sick. I'm going to throw up.
Me: You can leave at 7.00, when Girl A gets back from her lunch.
BSU10:00: I need to leave now, though. I might throw up.
Girl A: It's hot in here.
Me: It's 81 degrees by the brewers with the 200-degree water. It's not that bad in here.
Girl A: No, it's so hot. I need to go sit down.
Me: Get a glass of ice water and take it to your register.
Girl A: No, see, I get heat stroke really easily and then I have to go to the hospital...
Me: This is a coffee shop. It can get up to 125 degrees in here. This is not hot.
Girl A: I'm going to go call [Big Boss With The Day Off] and tell him you're making me work when it's too hot.
Me: *guffaws*
She went on to take a twenty-minute ten-minute break, despite me calling her on it (twice) and when I suggested she keep a glass of ice water nearby her, she protested "But I don't want to drink water."
Great plan, kiddo. So glad you're not a prep cook somewhere, or doing piecework in a factory, where it might actually get, you know, hot.
They're just such friggin' shrinking violets, and they need so much damn direction. Tonight they were standing by the door, holding their stuff, waiting to leave, when there were dirty rags strewn everywhere. a load of dishes still waiting to be washed, and whipped creams not made. I don't need everything to be perfect when I leave at night, but the mess gets cleared away and the prep for the next shift gets done. That's just the way it is.
Next time I work with that crew, all their cel phones are going in the safe.
*sigh* Seems like that's just part of summer.
(no subject)
Me? Bitter? What? *weeps*
It's just that every time I walk into a store and am waited on by one of the people you just described, I stew and stew, thinking about how I am a reasonably attractive, extremely competent and well-educated person between the ages of 18 and 22 who is more than qualified to work in a coffee shop. This just goes to show that corporations are incompetent and baffling.
(no subject)
*hugs*
(no subject)
(no subject)
So, you have the unique opportunity to participate in these kids' processes of maturation. Fire one of their shrinking violet asses; it will do the rest of them a world of good. :D
(no subject)
Feel bad for you, coffee woman.
(no subject)