Hey RHU! Long time reader, first time writer.
I've been working at Btarsucks for just over a year now and there are literally millions of stories that I could tell you guys, everything from pampered blonde girls who think they should get their drinks for free because they've unbuttoned their shirts to the point that their nipples are clearly visible, to strange men who lock themselves in the washrooms and then steal the lightbulbs. You can call me Warista.
The first story I'm going to share actually happened at my shift an hour ago. Straight from the getgo, the whole place was a mess. Dishes hadn't been done, floors were filthy, somebody hadn't shown up for their shift, and the line had been to the door for hours. I had only been there for about ten minutes when I was told that there was an ... "accident" in the bathroom. And would I mind going to check it out?
No, originally I didn't mind, because the one bathroom did have a toilet that had been malfunctioning lately and just leaking water onto the floor so I figured I'd just mop it up, and block off the bathroom and that would be that. But what did I find when I opened the door?
Poop. I found poop. Smeared across the floor. Like somebody had shit on the floor, and then stepped in it, and then rubbed their foot against the tiles trying to get it off. Yup. Not even ten minutes into my shift. I bleached the floor so hard my eyes were burning, but I honestly didn't even care. I didn't breathe the whole time I did it because no way was I breathing in that stench.
About ten minutes after I got back from the washroom, and maybe another 40 hand washes, I ended up spilling coffee grinds everywhere. All over myself, the floor, everything. During a huge rush, when we really needed the coffee to be made.
Then, I sprayed syrup all over my arms, my hair, and my face, within minutes of that. I wiped it off as well as I could and continued making drinks for the rest of the rush, which lasted almost an hour, which meant I interacted with about 50 people or so.
I went in the back soon after just to catch my breath and my manager looked at me and was like, "What is on your face?"
So I looked in the mirror. I had syrup literally dried in drips down my forehead, and on my cheek. And nobody had mentioned it. Not my coworkers, and not any of the customers.
So I'm sure they all got a good laugh at the walking dessert I was.
The second story happened a few months ago, while I was fairly new to my store as I had just transferred from a different one. I was still getting used to the different customer clientele. I was on till and a girl, let's call her Z, was on the bar, making all the drinks.
She had a long line of drinks waiting to be made, but she was making them as fast as she could and following the "two drinks at one time" standard that our company has set. This 'standard' means that two drinks must be getting worked on at all times because it speeds up how fast they are made or something.
There is also a rule that states that drinks must be given out in the order they were put in, so even if one drink is made before the other, the person who ordered first gets their order first, sort of thing.
So Z is working on this when she puts a cold drink down so she can keep working on the other one, the one that is supposed to go out first, and this middle-aged demon speaks up.
M-AD: Is that my drink right there? Why is it just sitting there?
Z: I'm just working on this drink right now and then I'll be able to hand it out to you
M-AD: WHY CAN'T I HAVE IT NOW? I WANT IT RIGHT NOW! CAN'T YOU SEE THE ICE IN IT IS MELTING?!
The conversation went from 0 to 100 so fast. The customer was screaming at the top of her lungs, and keep in mind that the drink had been sitting there for LITERALLY 20 seconds at most. At this point, everybody in the store stopped what they were doing and started to stare.
M-AD: I DON'T CARE! IF MY DRINK IS JUST SITTING THERE, ALL THE ICE IS GOING TO HAVE MELTED AND THEN IT'LL BE NO USE TO ME.
Z: Ma'am, I think you are getting unnecessarily upset about this.
Okay, yeah, Z could have handled that a little better, but she was right. However, it was the wrong thing to say, especially to a M-AD who was out for blood.
M-AD: EXCUSE ME? WHAT DID YOU SAY TO ME?! YOU LITTLE PUNK! DON'T YOU KNOW THE CUSTOMER. IS. ALWAYS. RIGHT.
At this point, Z stopped making drinks and went and sat down in the back because she was shaking so hard and she was starting to cry. The woman yelled about customer service a little bit more and then walked out of the store.
The real kicker though? The woman had 'paid' with "recovery coupons" which means that, if something is not up to our company's standards, an employee will give it out to a dissatisfied customer, which provides them with a free drink. My guess is that this M-AD threw her unnecessary hissy fit in attempts to get some more, which, thankfully, nobody gave her.
Until next time,