Ain't Nobody But Me

I've got 11 to 17 tomorrow. I'm almost sure that's what I was listed for on my fifth day, but when I looked at the schedule when I was there, it said 11 to 18. If it wasn't just my imagination, and they try that again, I'll just leave at 5, anyway. I don't think they have any alerts or procedures if somebody doesn't show up or stays different hours than they should have.

Al was telling me that they'll always try to get you to stay longer. I'm not familiar with schedules of this sort, but what do they get out of holding us there 10 minutes after our shift? We're still paid for it. I hope. You never know with this place.

So, a couple times when I've looked at the schedule sheet hanging in the "crew room," I've noticed the number next to my name is circled in pen. It's more of a poorly-made square or polygon.

I'm the only person on the sheet with that designation. I know I'm not the only new person. I might look too much into these things, but I have a feeling that some bastard manager or supervisor did that for some detrimental purpose regarding me. Since there aren't words written, it could fit Shaneequa's MO. Then again, to figure out it was my name, she'd have to read something. Maybe the notation was made after she asked someone which one I was and she marked it so she would remember. Don't worry folks, I'm going out for a smoke right now.

Speaking of smoking, Al asked me if I did.

"No, I don't."
"Good. You don't smoke the weed, do you?" he asked in a lowered voice.
"No, I don't."
"Good. If you're ever in a group, don't let them pressure you to do it."
"I graduated high school."
"Did you?"
Yeah, I already told you this a couple days ago. Anyway, that led into the conversation about the Discovery Channel that's in the previous post. At least he didn't ask which uni I am going to.

So his questions about what I smoked meant that he does both of those things. The least he could do is realize I know this and not try to give me a pathetic attempt at a lesson. If I wanted to deal with hypocrites, I could be at home.

Burn Update: I woke up in pain, today, to see it completely raw. Up until now, it hasn't been hurting. In my mind, that's a sort of insult to the injury. Maybe the insult is that I still have to work there, or when I get called a screw-up for my mopping skills by a cro-magnon man.

If you want to see an artist's rendition of what the manager who called me pale and a screw-up looks like, click here. He really does look somewhat like an angry Curly. (Curly DeRita more than Curly Howard.) The stark difference between his five-0clock shadow-like hair and dark eyebrows is more defined in real life.

If any of you want to know the only thing I've deemed safe to eat at the Franchise, it's the ice cream. No human hands touch it. They keep a cover over the "shake mix" that is made into the ice cream, so not many flies get mixed in, I imagine. Stay away from any chicken or fish products, especially. The quarter pound meat should be avoided, as well. To put cheese on your burgers, they need to pick off slices from a block of cheese that's been heavily compacted. That means they're using their fingernails to pry it apart. Fingernails + cheese - gloves = bad.
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11:31 AM, July 31, 2005

I have laughed my butt off at your blog this morning! Hope you get the job at the office, but I'd hate not to get to read any more Mickey Dee's experiences! Then again, office people can be warped too. I know. I'm one of them!    

9:19 PM, July 31, 2005

You're definitely gonna make others think twice about eating there. Which is an excellent thing.
I worked at bk. It lasted all of six weeks. I went from there to a fish market (which really sucked ass but HAD to be better than watching people pick their noses then play with food).    

9:22 PM, July 31, 2005

I'd think that a fish market would be better than the franchise. I just hate all the proceedures they have. If the franchise stopped to think about things, they could adopt proceedures that actually were productive.    

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