About Timing

Saturday, August 20, 2005
I know most of my readers have barely caught up with my fifteenth day, but this is important.

As I've said, this blog will end when my job ends, which is officially on Wednesday. From there, I'll convert to my new blog.

My problem is that my Wednesday shift ends at 1 am, and my flight to Peru (don't ask) takes off in the morning. That means the post about my last day might come much later after Wednesday.

I've already started my new blog, but I'm afraid that if I sheerd all of you over to it, I won't be able to post for the first week or so, and you'll all lose interest. I'm not basing that off of your integrity, but rather my own knowledge of my habits.

From here on out, there is no status quo. Everything is going to be changing. I'll only be in my hometown for a week or so after I return from my vacation in Peru and Florida. (Two wildly exotic places, from what I've heard.) That will hopefully give me time to set everything up for the transition. After that, I promise, there will be no status quo. I'll have to think of a new one.

EDIT: Okay, the link is out of the bag, so to speak.


The URL is still long and all, but I hope to get a domain name if I can get about $9 in my PayPal account. I'm finding that it's really hard without a credit card.

Leave me a comment in the new blog to let me know you're still with me. Once I see enough people, I'll make more posts.

Oh, and if any of you want me to host your blog for free (no catches, I just have a lot of extra space and bandwidth), just e-mail me.

I'm also thinking about getting a volunteer to help me with the technical aspects of the site, so if you are into that sort of thing, just contact me.

My Sixteenth Day

I just got back from golf practice and my 4 hours of work, so I'm exhausted.

Work started off quite funny. I told the nice supervisor lady that I was leaving after Wednesday, so that rekindled shouted conversation that I was going to the Scotland.

The old manager who got in a fight with Curly in one of my previous posts came up to me.

"Could you do me a favor?"
"When you come back for the holidays or summer, could you bring me back a shot glass from Scotland. I collect them from all over."
"Yeah, okay."
"I'll pay you for it."
"You don't have to do that."
"See, I have them from all over the world. I have wooden ones-"
"Yeah, and pewter ones, and crystal ones. It's amazing at how many different types there are!"

It was as if I were in a Kids in the Hall sketch. He was going nuts about how cool shot glasses were, and I was trying to pretend that I was interested because I'm a subordinate.

After that, I was running meats all by myself. This isn't so bad, because I'm really quite good at it. I'm probably better than most people there. Eventually, though, the traffic caught up with me, and I was insanely busy. I've been here for 15 days, and they have 2 people on meats/fryer at any given time, even when it's really slow. Not today. It was all me, and I was facing a deluge. I was running from grill to fryer to walk-in freezer because I didn't even have someone to stock up for me. Eventually, a nice girl who was working at the table/wall gave me a hand.

I was really pissed off that they would just leave me there, though.

So when 3:45 rolled around, I promptly left. They needed quite a few things done, but I was tired of it all. As I was washing my hands, the Russian girl walked up to me and asked me to drop some crispy chicken.

"Sorry, I already clocked out."

It was a poor excuse, and I would have normally done it as a favor, but I had already taken my apron off and had finished washing my hands. Oh, that, and I don't care.

Two more days. I'm free on Sunday and Saturday, so expect posts about my upcoming switch to a new blog during that time. I'm still working out the kinks, but I do have hosting.

My Fifteenth Day

Friday, August 19, 2005
Today was another 7 hour shift. Noon to, well, 7.

Every time I get in there, I always ask if they want me on meat, because that's the only thing I'm good at. Today, I asked a manager who told me yes, but then retracted and told me to ask Curly. That was quite possibly the last thing I wanted to hear, and I was validated.

Curly told me to be at the table/wall (which is where you prepare the burgers, even though it's neither a table nor a wall) during the busiest time of the day.

After a couple minutes he comes over and says:

"What are you doing?"
"I'm sorry, I'm going as fast as I can."
"What are you doing? I think the real question is what are you doing?"
"Yeah, you kind of already asked that."

He didn't hear that last part because I mumbled it.

At one point, somebody ordered about 5 of one type of sandwich which isn't very common, so we obviously ran out and had to wait until more were cooked. Curly quickly smelled error and appeared.

"How could we run out of everything? Are you calling the trays?"

I honestly thought whether I should have added, "just not the way you want me to."

After an hour and a half of this, Curly gave me a clipboard. Thoughts of doing something clerical instead of manual started bounding through my eager mind.

"See these small trashcans? Are you listening?"
"I don't like repeating myself."
"I need you to count each thing that's in here and write it on this paper. Write it with the little ones and the one across when it gets to five, You know what I'm talking about?"

To be more specific, I had to take each disgusting thing thrown into the trashcan out with my hands and mark its corresponding section on the sheet of paper. This must be their idea of clerical.

As if my day weren't bright enough already, I had to close (clean) both of the grills.

That's not so bad now, because after Curly leaves, the managers are much nicer. Unfortunately, there's this big oafish kid who thinks he's hilarious. He also thinks he's an expert at working there. I'll let him have that glory; heaven knows I don't want it, but he tries to explain how to do every little thing to me. Many times, he's just plain wrong.

After I finished closing the second grill, I started to turn it back on.

"We leave one off for the night. We only use this one. In the morning, they put eggs on that one, but it isn't used all tonight. You probably haven't worked this shift before, so you're used to running both of them."

Actually, I've been on that shift quite a few times, and they always run both grills during dinnertime. I've been on that shift the majority of my days here. I didn't say any of this because it's easier to just let these things pass. I won't have to deal with any of it for long.

Speaking of that, I tendered my resignation today. I gave my 5 day notice. I don't know their policy on quitting, but neither do they. I told the one nice manager.

"Where are you going?"
"No, Peru."
"When are you going to be back?"
"Are you moving there?"
"No, I'm visiting there, and then I'm moving to the UK."
"Do you have family there?"
"No, I'm going to school there."
"Oh that's going to be fun. Well, I'll, uh, write a note that you're leaving."

Just 3 more days of working there. If you're wondering what's going to happen to this blog after I quit (thus destroying the theme), I'm going to make a new blog about my life in the UK. It won't be as niche, but if you've found my writing to be interesting, just think about how much more it could be if I were allowed a bit more freedom to write whatever I wanted to. I hope that many of you stick with me.

Fast Food Fallout (and my cat)

Wednesday, August 17, 2005

As I wrote in a comment, I am sick, and so is my cat. Whenever she's sick, she always closes one eye.

Since I'm on the subject, here's a couple more of her. The bottom one is of her knawing at my hand.

Now that my elbow burn has healed, I am left with what my scar is going to look like. It's not really as cute as my cat.

My Fourteenth Day

Monday, August 15, 2005
Although I have big news, I'm going to go through the day first.

I started at 5 pm and went until 9 pm.

It's a very good thing that my cold took it's second day recession. It often does this to get my hopes up, but comes back en fuerzo the third or fourth day after the first signs. I'll let you know if it was only allergies from yesterday. I am allergic to cats and I have 3.

I've found out they really treat me poorly compared to the others because I'm young and male. The other kid who has been working here for a long time gets treated the same. Here's a little diagram of who gets treated the worst to best, excluding managers:

Young black male
Young white male
Old foreign male
Old black male
Old white male
Young foreign female
Old black female
Old white female
Young black female
Young white female

There are no young foreign males, so I excluded that group. Heaven knows how that list is going to affect the search engines. I just hope it helps people like my friend from Australia who wanted to know how fast food is changing women's "rolls." See comments from yesterday.

So that girl from a while ago was back, tonight. When she was leaving, I saw her in her civilian clothing, and I have to say: yikes. She really isn't my type. I was completely wrong. Anyway, and I feel like that guy in Starved, she's fatter than me. I know I shouldn't use that as a qualifier, as that would exclude most girls my age, but it just seemed apparent. Oh, and her shirt said "Single and loving it." I thought, good for her.

I've noticed that the sound of grills warning that they're about to open is very similar to the opening of "Nothing To Show" by Supertramp, thus making that song just repeat over and over in my head. The ice cream machine reminded me of another song, but I forgot what it was.

Okay, you probably want to hear the big news: I got my first paycheck!!!

Normally, I wouldn't be excited about such a thing, and this is no different. In fact, I'm even less excited since they only paid me $75.

I saw that, and I sort of laughed on the inside. I actually laughed on the outside, too. I've worked here 14 days, and they give me $75. They're damn lucky that I don't work there for the money. (I just love my job) So I asked the manager how many days it was for.

"28th to the 30th; 2 days. Wait, no, 3 days."
"Yeah... I've worked here for 14 days."
"The rest will be on the next paycheck, which will be on Monday."
"Okay, thanks."

When I had time to think about it, I realized that I started on the 15th. I got 2 hours for the orientation on Sunday, 3 hours for Wednesday (the 18th, which I know because I wrote my first entry about it the next day), and all the days after that. The hours say 24.67

It's impossible that I worked that much in 3 days. Maybe that is my first couple weeks and they just wrote it incorrectly.

Either way, I have no idea what I'm going to do with this huge increase in my income. Maybe I could buy that boat I've always dreamed about, or maybe start a grant.

I think I'm going to cry.

My Thirteenth Day

Sunday, August 14, 2005
Today was slow. Excruciatingly slow.

I got there right as lunch was half-over, and I just milled around for the next 5 hours. They did let me go an hour early, though.

Here are the updates:

That young Russian girl likes me. I don't know if it's mutual. I'm thinking not, but she's one of the few people there I enjoy being around.

That burger pirate guy makes me furious. He is such an idiot. He just stands there as people call out orders to him and he expects me to handle everything as he just looks at a nearby wall.

When I was moved to the preparation side, I had to call out those orders to him. Usually there is a lapse of about 45 seconds between the time I ask for something and when he starts walking to do it.

I called something out to him at one point. He didn't move, even though he was only a yard away. The lady working with me said that he didn't hear because he didn't say anything. I was tempted to say, "he heard me..." but that wouldn't help me out too much.

About the whole "response when someone asks for something" thing, I understand it's very important. I always say okay or repeat their order, but each time a manager comes over and tries to train me for the 40th time, they always mention that I need to say thank you. I'll try to go along with their stupid rules, but for some reason, whenever it comes down to it, I never say thank you. It's just not in me to thank someone for asking me something. You thank someone when they do something for you. That's like shaking someone's hand and saying excuse me, or sneezing and saying gesundheit. People just don't say those sorts of things. It's only polite if it makes sense.

At one point, I looked over at the burger pirate. On his collar he was sporting a big Franchise button. There are 3 things wrong with this:

1. Who wears big round buttons on their collar?
2. Burger pirate guy is supposed to be a tough guy, which is something a button just doesn't emit.
3. Nobody is told, asked, or encouraged to wear Franchise buttons. I don't even know where he got it.

If any of you still eat at the Franchise, I have a little trick for you so that you get a burger that hasn't been sitting around for the past hour. This only really works if you go inside to order. All you have to do is ask for your burger without salt and pepper. What that does is make them come up with a new batch of burgers because the first thing they do when the grill opens is put salt and pepper on them. You won't notice the difference in taste, but your immune system will thank you.

And guess what? I officially have a cold, and I officially blame it on the Franchise. I tend to get really bad colds, so expect stuffy posts over the next 2 weeks. (Yes, that's how long the brunt of my colds last.)