New job.

So, I got a new job. Still McDonald's, but a different store. Soon I'll be moving out, paying bills, getting fucked every night and living the life of an adult. Pretty damn scary, but exciting at the same time.

It's weird how I never realized how much I like my job before I knew I was leaving. I mean, don't get me wrong. The job itself sucks balls. I have, at best, a general dislike for customers and coming home smelling like a stale Big Mac every day is not all that pleasant. But the people, man. The people are awesome.
There's Denim, who's the only person I've ever met that actually silly-dances with me.
There's Ange, who, despite being our Restaurant Manager, is totally cool with coming out for a smoke on our breaks and just bitching about everything in the store.
There's Kana, who used to terrify me, 'til I realized that her bitchiness is actually kind of maternal.
There's Kat, who I never talked to and then one day we were suddenly great friends.
There's Gemma, who turned out to be one of the best people to go shopping with I've ever met.
There's Sia, who I don't get to see that often (she only works weekends), but who might be one of the kindest people I'll probably ever meet.
There's Pete, who always comes and talks to me about comic books.
There's Tina W., who is the best manager I have ever worked with, and who always (literally, always) has a smile in her face.
There's Tina R., who's more mature than I ever thought a 24 year old could be.
There's Jaymie, who makes my breaks so so much better.
There's Annie B., who made me look forward to every Health and Safety meeting we had.
There's Gina, who is all manager-like on floor, but turns into just one of us outside work.
There's Victor, who one day surprised the hell out of me when we had a pretty good chat about fashion (he's a pretty big, muscly guy).
There's Grace, who I never got to hang out with that much, but every time we did, was absurdly fun to talk to.
There's Ona and Gloria, who started about a month ago, and as soon as they met me, decided we'd be best friends.
There's Callan, who is one of the cutest, sweetest guys I've ever seen.
There's Annie P., who had my back since my very first day of work.

I'm sure I'm forgetting some people, but what I mean is: I'll miss those fuckers like hell. We've only been working together for about one year at most, but each one of them, at different times, made going to work be more than just getting my pay every week. And I'm grateful for that.

Femme Fatale.

So yeah, I bought Britney's new album. It's amazing in its auto-tuned perfection. Loving it.

Fuck that shit.

Today at work I had a pretty bad customer. We'll call her Ms. Cunty McBitchPants.
Lunch time had just started, and we had gotten fairly busy. Not too much (it's a Tuesday after all), but enough to create about two lines. As I'm doing my thing, Ms. Cunty McBitchPants comes over to my register. I serve her, all the while asking myself if she has some kind of weird muscular disease that makes it impossible for her to smile. Ms. Cunty McBitchPants ordered a Seared Sweet Chili Wrap combo with a Sprite for the drink. In those exact words: a Seared Sweet Chili Wrap combo. Combo. So I got her Sprite, got her kid's Happy Meal, her wrap and her fries. As I put the fries on the tray she looks at me like I suddenly turned into some kind of horrifying looking, foul smelling monster and says:
- I didn't order that. - pointing at the fries.
- Well, you ordered a Sweet Chili wrap combo, it comes with fries and a drink.
- I ordered a Sweet Chili wrap Weight Watchers meal. - (here is when her nostrils started flaring).
- Ok, let me just get you my manager for a refund, I thought you had said combo. - which I KNOW she did.
- NO - she screams - I said I wanted a Weight Watchers meal!
Ok, now listen. If your life is so miserable that being right about ordering something on McDonald's (even though she wasn't) is so important that you have to scream at the teenager serving you, my condolences. If it is in fact so crucial to your well-being that you're ok doing it in front of your child, that's none of my business. Just know that if I weren't working, and if my Restaurant Manager wasn't right there, I would've shouted so many insults at you that your head would've exploded simply because you're brain cannot process so much offense at any one time. Cunt.
So I ask my manager to do her a refund, take her fries away and hide behind the fry dispenser until she's gone, before going back to my register to keep serving people.
Five minutes later, however, there she is. Walking towards me with the tray in her hands, the wrap opened and it's contents all over the place. As she walks in a straight line, headed to me, with fire in her eyes, I feel my stomach jump. Oh Lord, I do not want to deal with this.
- Can I help ma'am?
- This is a Caesar wrap! I wanted the Sweet Chili wrap! - and then she throws the tray on the counter in front of me.
LEARN HOW TO READ YOU FUCKED UP STUPID CUNT. And to smile for that matter. It says pretty clearly on the wrap 'Sweet Chili' or 'Caesar'. They're even different colours. Maybe whoever put the wrap in your tray was too busy to notice, but you took it to your table, had time to look at it, figure out that it wasn't what you wanted and bring it back in a decent state. But because you're such an unpolite asshole, you just HAD to open that shit and throw it at my face.
Honestly, I don't deserve this kind of shit. I didn't fuck her order up on purpose. I didn't even make any mistakes. I wasn't anything but nice and polite to her, but for some reason she thinks she has the right to be a rude little piece of shit to me. Fuck you, Ms. Cunty McBitchPants. Fuck you with something hard and sand-papery.

Not all customers are bad though. One of my regulars gave me a chocolate egg today. And chocolate makes everything better, right?

Oh customer, you're a riot.

School holidays are over. Thank God.
You see, the McDonald's I work at is tiny. Very tiny. It's in a mall's foodcourt, so all we get is this itsy bitsy store, with the kitchen taking 3/4 of it, and next to no space between the counter and the drinks tower, food bin, ice cream machine, etc. Which is usually fine, seeing that in a normal day we won't have more than 5 people working at the counter at any given time. On the school holidays, however, demand is insane, which makes the managers think that it is somehow possible to fit 11 people on a 1x4m space. So if some fucker decides they want a Frozen Coke and Large Fries, I have to dodge a sea of stressed co-workers to go from the slushy machine to the fry station at the other end of the store, all the while bumping into everyone and practically feeling the heat of hatred they emanate. So, needless to say, after 7 hours of that bullshit I'm usually not feeling so peachy. And that's when he comes.
With half an hour left of my shift, the only thing I can think about is the sweet, sweet comfort of my bed. I'm tired, my feet hurt, I'm stressed and if I have to bear through one more kid taking 40 minutes to decide if they want nuggets or a cheeseburger in their Happy Meal I might kill someone. So when Mr. SuperFunnyAsianMan comes in I just ignore my sore cheeks, put in a robotic smile and greet him the same way I greet everyone else. He proceeds to order a medium combo with a Sprite. And then it comes. The stupid, unfunny, pointless and completely idiotic joke:
- Sprite for the drink. But just one cube of ice. (And here he smiles like he just realized he's the funniest man alive, like he's gonna go home, sell everything he has and move to LA to become a stand-up comedian.)
Now, the thing is, I am a nice person. I'm polite, I don't really argue with people and I usually deal with these situations by giving my stupid customer a little laugh and running away before they decide to start talking again. Not this time. All I managed was to get rid of my smile, shoot a look of complete and utter disgust for his existence and ask in the most impatient tone possible "Anything else?".
You're not funny, Mr. SuperFunnyAsianMan. You're joke is stupid, and to think that you somehow got the idea that it would amuse me only makes me think that you have some kind of brain damage. Did you not figure out while waiting for 10 minutes in line and watching me run around bumping into people, juggling drinks in my hands and looking at kids with death in my eyes that maybe I'm not up for a laugh right now? Did you not notice the other 10 people behind you who just wanted you to get your fucking McChicken combo and go away so they could get some food themselves? And if you did, why the fuck would you think it appropriate to joke around with your server? This is fast-food, asshole, and every minute of my time you waste with your inane remarks only makes the people behind you wait longer, making them angrier, making me having to deal with angry, hungry customers. I don't like angry, hungry customers, Mr. SuperFunnyAsianMan. And I don't like you for putting me in a position where I have to deal with them. So keep your fucking jokes to yourself, order your food, take it and get the fuck away from me before I go into a temporary fit of insanity and stab your eyeballs with a straw.
Ok, maybe I'm overreacting. But after the millionth time some jerk decides that Maccas is his stage and I'm the captive audience for his comedy routine I just can't deal with it anymore.
I did end up putting only one cube of ice in his Sprite. I may be homicidal, but I still make sure I'm doing my job.