How NOT to Steal From the Peeter.

Sufferin' Succotash! (yeah, it didn't work for me either, but I'm running out of cute exclamations to begin posts with.) Yesterday was a painfully slow Sunday. We didn't have jack shit to put in the seafood case. No more fresh sea scallops, sole, Alaskan salmon, or even space fillers like the creepy frog legs or fetus-like baby squid. So I had to keep busy. I re-arranged the sad selection of fish fillets and sprayed them with distilled water for an attractive sheen. I scrubbed every exposed section of the case with bootleg Windex. I prepped entire pans of frozen tilapia and mahi-mahi for tomorrow's lazy-ass opener. Finally, I made it around to the outside of the case, making sure every can of crabmeat and package of sausage was OCD-straight. I was about to head back into the fort when I saw a target. YAAAAY BUISNESS. I bounced right on over to him, wishing I had not when I got closer. He was not going to buy a damn thing. A Black dude in his early 40's, wearing a stained red t-shirt, jeans, and a pair of bustdown sneakers. "HEEEEY! How are you today? You finding everything..." I trailed off as I watched him grabbing steaks and throwing them into his hand basket. He appeared to be on his cell phone. "Yeah. But do you know where the charcoal at?" Um... It's the middle of grilling season. We always have stuff like that on huge displays. Usually at either entrance of the store. I then notice the TYPE of steaks that he was carelessly nabbing. Porterhouse steak, which is not on sale. He had completely cleaned the section out. And he had not so much as glanced at the price, weight, thickness or anything. My heart started beating fast. "Yeah, charcoal is over this way sir! I'll show you..." While I frantically tried to think of the best way to alert someone that foolio was going to make a break for it very soon. "Nah, I'll find it. I need to get some cooking oil anyway. Thanks." Meanwhile, the phone he had jammed to his face vibrated and rang at the same time. I raised my eyebrows and a shadow of guilt passed over his face. Fuck. I perfectly executed a quick about-face from my brief stint in NJROTC and started speed-walking up to the manager's office at the front of the store. True to form, Hee-Haw was sitting in front of the computer in his office, frowning at the screen like he had just smelled a fart. He looked like he was mildly irritated at me as I walked in, out of breath. "I think there's this guy trying to steal and he got a whole bunch of steaks and he is looking for charcoal and..." (fuck, I hate how easilyI turn into a babbling idiot in front of these douchetarded managers.) He literally leapt out of his bendy office chair. "Okay, now do What? What does the guy have on?" I told him, and he got on his house-phone style floor monitor handset. He strolled off, leaving me feeling slightly embarrassed and lonely, so I went back and waited in my department, where of course in the two minutes I was gone, I'd aquired a line of five fuckin' people. Time passed quickly as I wrapped up the customer's shit and sent them on their merry way. About ten minutes after I was damn near comatose from pure nosy-ness, Hee-Haw and Deyshawn,(a grocery manager) walked through the back door in the meat department, smiling triumphantly with the basket of expensive steaks, topped off by a bottle of cheap Peeter brand vegetable oil. "$189 worth of steaks," he pronounced in his syrupy drawl. He reminded me to call his extension the next time I saw a stealer. I smoked so much pot when I was a kid, I'm lucky I remember how to use the bathroom. Sweet black baby Jesus in Detroit....

... The Hell?

After a four-day long vacation from the Fling, it was almost fun pulling into the parking lot, filled with cigarette butts and debris from other fast-food joints. I carefully backed my Mustang into a space with the passenger's side away from the windows, so none of my co-workers could see the sizeable ding in her side, stemming from just one (or three) sips of cheap brown liquor on my birthday's eve. Apparently it clouded my judgement enough to make me slam into the side of a concrete wedge sticking out of a median next to a gas pump. Surprisingly, I felt hungry when I smelled the hash browns and inevitably burnt bacon this morning. Probably because when I'm home and up that early, I eat. Mr. Dilbert was completing a drive-thru order as I walked in. We exchanged greetings and Wigga grumbled a "Good Morning" from the kitchen. I looked around, and as usual, 45453 things had changed since the last time I'd been there. We FINALLY made the switch to trans-fat free oil for the fryers. Most other fast food establishments changed months or even years ago, but I think the Fling was right in keeping it for as long as they legally could. The fries, onion rings, and hash browns will probably taste like shit now with that healthy freakin stuff. And FYI: I would not consider anything except for the Veggie Burger, which is cooked in it's own special pan, safe for a vegetarian. The Pork Sausage Patties are fried in any available grease, which sometimes infuses the other products, like French Toast Sticks, with a strange, rich, hoggy flavor. We also starting using the Trans-fat free crossaint-wich bread. I'm counting minutes until some hillbilly brings back their "Sawseh en Chaise Kussaint-wik" complaing of it's lack of grease. The prep was already totally finished when I came in at 6am, so we just waited around for customers and filled up sugar, dipping sauce for nuggets, and ketchup.Car pulls up. "Fancy", our General Manager, pre-recorded a message of her saying, "Good Morning, how may I help you?" to play within 3 seconds of a car tripping the weight sensor. "Hold on." said a deep, country voice. "Sure, let me know when you are ready!" I said in my disgustingly cheerful morning voice. About 60 seconds passed. I gently prodded- "Need a bit more time, sir?" A loooong pause. "A'ight. We ready." Another hellishly long pause. Mr. Dilbert poked his head around from the manager's office, where he was eating his daily biscuit with syrup. "What the hell do they want? Jackasses.", he snapped, running to the handwash sink to rinse the sweetness off of his fingers. "What can I get you??" he carped over the tinny drive-through microphone. "Ummmm...... We need fo' crassaints. On 2 of them, though, I just want the egg and the cheese." I tapped two Egg-Cheese Crossaint-wiches into the POS and waited. Another pause.... Mr. Dilbert cracked back down. "What are the other two?!" The drive-thru timer crept up on 2:30. "Uhhh..... with whatever else it come with!" At this, I collapsed. Tears sprung to the sides of my eyes as I screamed with laughter in the small window. My mouth wide open, I drooled on my arm slightly and Mr. Dilbert tried to stifle a chuckle as he sternly demanded, "What kind of meat?" But it didn't come out the first time, only "Meat??" to which they responded, "Sausage." But he didn't hear them, so he fairly shrieked, "WHAT KIND OF MEAT?!!" the second time. They again told him, "Sausage?" in a frightened voice. By this time, I was crouched on the floor next to the trash can, weeping and holding my aching abs. He hollered the total through the speaker, and immediately a car pulled into their place. I attempted to take their order. "Two Cini-Minis, please." I tapped the order in and spoke. "Okay, that's two Cini Minis; $2......BWAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!" I was no more good for the next ten minutes. Later on, after Fancy arrived, she started making the schedule and I noticed a new shift. Oh, SHIT. We are now moving to 24 hours. I immediately volunteered for a spot. Hurrah for drunks and 3rd shift factory workers!! The best blog fodder I know.

The Reason For My Writer's Block..

Plain and simple.... too much relaxation! About a month ago, hours on both of my jobs dried up somewhat, leaving me with ample time to sit around on my buns and have birthdays and (what else) consume large qualities of fried chicken. However, summertime is heating up, and both jobs are accelerating quickly in sales. I look forward to coming back to my underworked laptop to pour my soul out to the masses. Happy Reading!

I'm Back! P.S. Ribeye, You Suck For Starting Roundtable Without Meeee

Helluva welcome me back post, huuuh? It's been a rough month. I want to scream "Thank You" at the top of my lungs to all of my readers who keep encouraging me to post. I now have a camera, to capture those special Kodak moments at my fucktastic places of employment! Well, here's to a productive summer.