maderr | Goddamn Men: The Saturday That Sucked Monkey Balls

It's a Saturday, the second busiest day for us. This should be obvious. Anyway, on Fridays and Saturdays the day crew is responsible for preparing at least 6 stacks each of mediums and larges, I won't even get into the breads and smalls. (A stack being 8 pans of pizza dough ready to be sauced, cheesed and topped). I walked in and there was one of each. This is bad.

So there are three managers on duty tonight, which means in theory that one manages while the others act as crew. I wasn't closing, which means I'm crew. Hahaha. The other two got stuck on makeline and ovens, which meant I got to be the "floater," or the one that stuck with the nasty manager jobs. I lost count of the customers that called to complain b/c of some pissy thing. They were fun. This one dumb bitch calls to complain that we forgot to put a topping on her pizza - not a big deal except that she pay for the extra topping, so fair enough. I said that if she brought the pizza back, I'd remake it. Except they'd already eaten most of the faulty pizza. At that point I said I couldn't do anything. She didn't like that. Ask me if I care.

So my night was a living hell. "Megan, do this." "Megan I need that." "Megan, I need quarters for the drawer" "Manager call" *screams in rage*. I worked my ass off tonight, even dropping money in the safe, scheduling the breaks, etc. Finally it slows enough that C (another manager) can check the schedule to do breaks (not knowing I was already on it). The boss sees him, asks him about it and then makes a big deal about how on top of things he is. And all fucking night I didn't get one goddamned fucking word, just "do this" or "try that." I don't expect compliments but that really pissed me off. C calmed me down though - he's a cool guy, and was aware just how asinine the boss was being. Still...

Not to mention the boss' wife called in the middle of our busiest hour to order her own food. Because she was out with her stupid friends drinking it up.

Things slowed down enought that I got off early, but I think it's only because I was about to start dishing out violence b/c the crew was too goddamed stupid to remember that yes, they have to answer the phones when they ring. I seldom yell at anyone, but they all learned to fear me tonight.

Pardon me, my list of Stupid People to Kill requires yet another adjustment.

Customer calls, says they don't eat pork (I care?) and that they got the wrong pizza. Then they say they got the ground beef and extra cheese, but not the pepperoni, italian sausage and extra cheese. I'm confused, but ask again to double check. They say the same thing and I agree to remake the P IS XC pizza. Guy calls back ten minutes later, says that we screwed up both pizzas. I proceed to tell him he need to make up his mind (literally I said this) and he says they got the pork (which is for his girlfriend, HE doesn't eat pork) so she'll bring the bad pizza and they need the GB XC remade. Megan says fine, hangs up and proceeds to remake their pizza and put a "not trustworthy" tag on their number in the computer. Fuckers.

Now to summon energy to write before a certain friend kills me.