Working the till, or front register, is anything but
fun. We deal with multiple crappy customers a day. On average about 6-10 per
person per shift. In the real world, at school or a social event, if we
encounter one rude civilian we normally get irritated, right? We either get
snappy with them back, or just try to keep our emotions in check, but it takes
a toll on our day. Now think in terms of ten rude people a day. It gets harder
to control your emotions with each customer.
“I can’t read your mind!” I’m sure we have all said it
a time or two. I normally use this while yelling at my boyfriend who expects me
to remember things he hasn’t even told me (which explains the exclamation point).
But maybe you used it while talking to your parent or sibling, or maybe you too
have a significant other. Where I want to use this phrase, on a daily basis, is
at work. Unfortunately, freedom of speech is a thing where freedom of rudeness
is not. If I were to say that to a customer my behind would get kicked off the
pay-roll faster than that customer could even complain.
I cannot count how many customers I have had at
Foodies that have come up to order and said “I would like a number one, but
with none of the gross stuff.” I have no idea what that means. How am I supposed
to know what you think is gross or not? And when I ask you what that means do
not get snappy with me because I don’t know your food preferences. I am not
your mom, your best friend, or your dog. I did not give you a personal “food
preference quiz” before you entered our restaurant and it is not my job to play
some ridiculous guessing game with what you like and dislike on your burgers.
It is only my job to supply you with quality food at a decent speed and make
your experience something that you will remember. Not to play 20 questions.
“Can I get a Number 1 with none of those extras?” It was in my first couple of months working on
till when an older man came up and ordered this. Maybe you have a parent or
grandparent who says something like this, and you know exactly what that means.
I, on the other hand, had never heard this, and after that day have never heard
it again.
“I’m sorry sir, what would you like on your burger?”
Thinking maybe he would just say something simple this time I decided to ask
him, politely, what the heck that meant.
“Everything but the extras,” was his reply.
Now, slightly irritated, I tried again. “So, what is
your definition of extras? I just would like to clarify”
“Listen, I don’t know who taught you how to do your job but
give me my burger. No extras.” With that he slammed a twenty dollar bill on the
table and walked away. My manager came over, because she could tell by the look
on my face that I had no idea where to go next, and asked me what was up. I
asked her if she knew what “no extras” meant and she looked at me like I was
speaking a different language. I explained that I asked him several times, what
he wanted on his burger but he just refused to tell me. Her advice was to ring
him up for a standard Number 1 and if he had a problem with it he could go talk
to her.
So, as you can imagine there were, indeed, extras on his
burger. In a fit-throwing rage the man charged back up to the counter screaming
“are you dumb? What part of no extras do you not understand? I had a simple
request! What is wrong with you? I want a new burger, my money back and
something done about this worker,” at this point he is screaming to my manager
and gesturing to me. My manager, who couldn’t get a word in until the man had
talked himself into a coughing fit, replied with “Sir, none of us here know
what “no extras” is supposed to mean. We’re people. We’re till workers. We are
not mind readers.”
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