Damian Says, Give No Quarter for Hatred (vulgarisprime) wrote in bkstories,
Damian Says, Give No Quarter for Hatred
vulgarisprime
bkstories

Recap: Burger King Specialty Master

We get all kinds at our store. It's a pitfall of being in a decently-sized city in the middle of farm country, right next to our largest competitor and on the same highway as nearly every other place in town.

Naturally, I get some memorable ones.

Saturday is hell for BK workers. Noontime is a rush you don't want to fool with (thank heavens I don't work before 2PM), and the evening is full of idiots and assmongers.

About 7:00 one particularly aggravating Saturday, a customer pulls up to our drive-through, clearly in less-than-perfect condition to be driving...

V: Yo
D: Fellow boardsman
A: Blithering asshole

A: I'd like one o' dem Texas Double Whoppers.
V: *growl*
A: I want the meal... a number whatever-that-is.
V & D: ??

Now, it doesn't come across as well in text, but this guy was barely able to talk. Nearly every word was being slurred to the point of incomprehensibility. Finally, D puts it together and mutters, "7:00 and this guy's already gone."

Amen, brother. I don't need the thought of drunken idiots driving to my store and driving around afterwards. I hate drunk drivers. I want to stab them. Only my last shred of human decency keeps me from doing so.

On a perfectly fine afternoon, a woman pulls up to our drive-through. She orders politely, doesn't order too much, but her final statement made me truly wonder:

"Do I pull around to the other side of the building?"

". . . ." NO, YOU GO DOWN TO THE DAMN STARBUCKS AND DO DONUTS IN THEIR PARKING LOT WHILE WE RUN TO BRING YOU YOUR FOOD. I'd understand if this isn't anything she'd ever done before, but she sounded like she'd been around some great many years.

A woman pulls up to the drive-through. Her main question: "Do you have corn?" My guess is whoever was on headset asked, "Corn?" "Yes, corn, canned corn, corn on the cob, either one." When in God's name has Burger King ever had corn?!

What would have made it all worth it is if someone had shouted, "GENTLEMEN, BEHOLD! CORN!", or if the woman had suddenly shouted, in a GIR voice, "I like corn! I do!" Sadly, nobody did.

We live in farm country. That's what the Midwest is, really - farms, fields, cows, corn, the occasional town. I'm well aware that we serve everyone. I appreciate what farmers do, because they're absolutely necessary to our survival.

That said, I would appreciate it greatly, Mr. Farmer Man, if you didn't come into my store reeking of manure and old hay. You stunk up the entire dining room. I nearly vomited at the stench. The smell didn't dissipate for a good 15 minutes. If you're going to come to my store in the future, I'd appreciate it if you showered and changed clothes. We do have a living to make, after all, and grossing our customers and employees out does not assist us in that.

In general, our front people are greatly encouraged to "upsell" by asking if people want cheese on their burgers, Jr. Whoppers, and Whoppers if cheese is not explicitly asked for or denied. Please understand this, as your reaction of indignantly shouting "NO!!1" at them when they ask is really pissing me off. We're too good to molest your food, but that doesn't mean I'm above screwing you over on what you're getting.

What am I saying, yes it does. I'm better than you, okay? Common courtesy - learn it and shut up.

Remember these flaming wads of ass? Well, I have the feeling they didn't get the message last time.

Car pulls up really late at night. It's about 11:30, 12:00 on a Saturday, and we're well into the act of cleaning the store. My manager, T, drops what he's doing and runs to the register, only to hear a screaming idiot yell, "Yeah, I want a tenderlouin and some mashed potatoes!"

Yeah, T knows these guys are asswads. He tells them to either actually order something or get out. They scream a few lame profanities and leave.

The sad part, they do this pretty often. Worse yet, they do this to T's girlfriend, who is also a manager and works late nights as well. It pisses him off, it pisses me off, and I do wish our other closer, B, had been there with me, as he is a mountain of hidden raging power and would be useful in taking a broom handle to those assholes' car.

And that's all of that. I've probably forgotten more stories than I'll ever tell, but I know I can't be the only one dealing with these experiences.

(Cross-posted to vulgarisprime, bkstories, customers_suck)
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