Some People Shouldn't Be Allowed To Order Pizza

[Java]

take the kid to the nearest gas station or fast food place.

 

Yeah, like the Domino's Pizza right in front of them, or the gas station 500 feet up the street, or the convenience store right next to it on the one side, or even the fucking empty lot with trees on the other...

 

We need the SA "what the christ" smiley. The sheer stupidity of it...

[I Broke Free]

*scratches head*

Hmm... my boyfriend has worked for some years as a pizza deliverer. A friend of mine did the same thing in a different city. I worked for some years as a call center operator.

 

They never had any problems... at all. No one telling them "Son, do you know who I am?" no one refusing to pay even if their pizzas arrived late, no complaints...

 

About myself, I always laugh when I read those stories about phone operators speaking with really rude customers, "don't talk to me as if I was stupid" "It just stopped working" and so on. They're funny, but nothing of the sort has ever happened to me. More often than not, the customers thanked me, and they never screamed or asked to speak with my supervisor.

 

Every time I read stories about bad customers, both for ordering pizza and for phone - technical operators, those stories are from an american website.

 

Could it depend from the country? Because I am really, really, really puzzled about how it can be.

 

Asuryan,

 

You are hearing the worst-of-the- worst stories here about American customers. I worked in customer service for nearly twenty years and I can tell you the vast majority of my customers were friendly and understanding.

 

For many years I worked in a part of San Francisco that catered to foreign tourists. My experience with them and the general mixing of cultures in that city showed me that the percentage of jerks in each culture seemed about equal. My experience in travel abroad is quite limited, but the only exception I found was the Netherlands, where just about everyone seemed very nice.

 

I have never been to Italy before. Perhaps it is like the Netherlands. If so, count yourself lucky.

 

IBF

[♦ nivek ♦]

daFatman's Boneheaded KUSStomer story from heck:

 

i was in retial firearms business for quite a few years. had to have the us Federal Firearms Licence to buy new arms and sundries from wholesalers.

Filled the assorted niche markets that the Big*Box stores were not able to fit into the mass merchandizing schedules.

 

You buy a rifle, scope, scope mounts from my shop, that assembly comes in pieces, usually put together at no extra cost as part of the deal I cut you for buying from me.

 

Takes a bit of time, some experience, and some hi dollar tools to "bore sight' the rifle/scope combo, and maybe head to range to ensure that the gun is on target at 100 yards. Been a pleasure to ensure for the cus tomer this service.

 

(Go ahead, twsit my arm, MAKE me go shoot!)

 

Gent comes into the place, has a high dollar 22 target rifle, some very expensive 'scope mounts, and the highest zootiest scope I have had my paws on. Evah..

 

Wants this job done Today. umm, like right NOW!!!!.

 

Ask man where he bought all this nice gear from (Wasn't through me), tells me his buddy, another FFL holder "gave him an awesome discounted price!"

 

Wasn't busy at that particular moment, assembly went smooth, sight in the rifle off back porch, dropped news on man that my services would cost him 25 usd...

 

Guy goes through roof, bellows and tells me that "you do this FOR EVERYONE at no cost!!!!"

 

"Hmmm, everyone else buys their gear HERE, dipfuck!"

 

Gent tries to dirtbag me, finally after several minutes of discussion, dis-assembled all my work, carefully put things back in packaging, handed all his shit back to him, told him to "please be careful and not come the fuck back..."

 

kL

[charley]

"Hmmm, everyone else buys their gear HERE, dipfuck!"

 

I hear you about those. Freeloaders. Having guns in your hands...I'd be in jail now...

[Dianka]

1.) Customer service story:

 

I worked for a ritzy high-end custom audio store, and was rockin the phones one saturday. This guy calls in, and before I can thank his stupid ass for calling he shrieks NEVER EVER SEND ANOTHER NIGGER TO MY HOUSE, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME YOU FUCKIN DIRTY BITCH.

 

And from then on it was just a barrage of questions about why I (you know, I have nothing to do with who gets sent out to his house) would send out a person who is not white. This was five minutes before the store closed, and he is insisting on having a white dude come out and install his mediocre and overpriced mini theatre. The store was cool about sending installers out on the same day if there was a real problem, but this was beyond retarded.

 

Anyway, the guy ends up screaming that he will have me fired if another guy doesn't get sent out. He calls back and talks to my manager, who has been listening in the entire call, and tell her that I was discriminating against him. He gets called on his shit, and eventually the company came by to pick up the equipment, and the guy was banned from the store. Guess who shows up a few weeks later like nothing happened...

 

2.) Waitress story (probably the trashiest moment of my life (well, that's debatable)):

 

Thanksgiving a few years ago I was working. 2 girls called in and a cook decided not to show up, so we were busy, no doubt. This family sits down, and I explained that we were backed up. NNNOOOO problem says the woman. Well, as expected their food came out about a half hour after they ordered, and when I come over she screams "what the hell took you so long, and where's the ketchup." Eh, this is typical and I'm not losing it yet. At the end she calls me over and yells for everyone to hear "I've been a waitress for 10 years, and if you worked where I did you would never make it. The food was cold (and the plates were licked clean)!! Are you trying to make my kids sick."

 

She goes on to call me names while I'm walking away and then threatens me with a ketchup bottle. So, that's it I'm off. "OK, what the fuck do you want for free. Because this is what it all comes down to, you don't want to pay for something that you bought."

 

"I'M GONNA KICK YOUR ASS YOU HONKEY BITCH" spitting and yelling. She couldn't say ass properly because she was missing a few teeth, so it came out as "ATHHHH."

 

"You can try, but you don't want me to knock the last two teeth out of your mouth."

 

She literally jumped off the seat at me, and I threw her to the floor. The manager sees this through the kitchen window and yells "Diane, NNNOOOOO!!!!" and he flies out there and breaks it all apart.

 

Everyone had a good show that thanksgiving, and I was treated with a day off. I wasn't fired because that job was so horrible, the manager didn't want to have to look for a new person just to have them quit in a few days.

 

On separate occasions I've had a pack of men almost jump me for my tips, many drunk dehydrated tired cranky and horney men threaten me because I would not give them my number (it didn't even bother me anymore when I was accused of being a bitch for not responding to drunken idiotic flirting), and been told by a dude that just got out of jail for murdering his father a few years ago that he was going to kill me. Yikes. I worked there from the time I was 16 to a few months after I turned 18 because I made a lot of money. Hmmm, doesn't say much about me...

[Guest Challenger]

(Dianka) I worked there from the time I was 16 to a few months after I turned 18 because I made a lot of money. Hmmm, doesn't say much about me...

 

It says a lot. It says you're a survivor. You have nothing to worry abouut.

[Amethyst]

Once, when I worked at a dot-com, I was doing tech support in addition to web programming. Anyway, we had this one customer who kept calling tech support because she didn't want to pay for the training. I ended up dealing with her a lot.

 

Over half my phone calls with her went like "Click here, then choose that menu option, then click here." I think they charged her more for the phone training than any other customer because she abused it so much.

[charley]

I worked there from the time I was 16 to a few months after I turned 18 because I made a lot of money. Hmmm, doesn't say much about me...

 

Aw,...you're allright....

 

You know, some people might doubt what you are saying about how those customers treated you, but it rings true and very familiar with me. I will back up what you say just by saying I could describe hundreds of similar incidents.

 

It's not your fault if people around you are creeps, but it can feel that way if there are enough of them. One good way to prevail is to take their money(...which was no doubt obtained by them through creepy means...) and it sounds like you did a good job of that.

[Dianka]

Charley, that brought up a good point: it's been so long since I worked there that just thinking about all the stuff that went on there seems unbelievable to me too. There was one time that a friggin car smashed into the restaurant, but I was not working that day. Oh, and the time that two 40 year old waitresses walked out in the middle of their shift and beat the hell out of each other in the parking lot in the middle of the day. Oh, oh, or the time when this guy's wife came in and bit her husband (the manager) in the arm until she struck blood because he impregnated one of the waitresses.

 

Most of the time I worked there I was on the graveyard shift (going straight to high school after work sometimes), and stories like these are SO common among people who pull overnights. It's pretty surprising.

 

*just wanted to add one more thing, the violent scumbags don't leave tips.

[charley]

Oh, and the time that two 40 year old waitresses walked out in the middle of their shift and beat the hell out of each other in the parking lot in the middle of the day. Oh, oh, or the time when this guy's wife came in and bit her husband (the manager) in the arm until she struck blood because he impregnated one of the waitresses.

 

HaHa!... That's some funny stuff...I mean you know funny when you are not there...and/or it was long ago...

I had a bunch of bouncing stories written, but not many people can relate. Too much of a reach to empathize. That's a different perspective on our fellow citizens.

[Asuryan]

I have never been to Italy before. Perhaps it is like the Netherlands. If so, count yourself lucky.

 

IBF

 

I wouldn't know, I've never been to the Netherlands.

However I think it's maybe because the "customer is always right" mentality hasn't spread here yet. There are exceptions though...

 

Once I was working for 4 months as a postwoman (mailwoman?). And during 3 of those 4 months, there was heavy, really HEAVY rain almost nonstop. I don't know about other postmen, but in Italy, you have to go around with the Italian Mail scooter, it's mandatory because there's the logo of the company on it. The bags are made of very old (50 years) leather, they cannot be closed, so no matter how careful you are, no matter if you put the letters inside a plastic bag, every time you put your wet hands there to pick up a letter, the letters packet gets a bit wet. And so on... after 1 hour under heavy rain with a bag that simply cannot be closed at all, your mail is all drenched with water. Of course older, wiser postmen know a trick: simply bring around the letters you ABSOLUTELY have to deliver that day, such as prioritary mail, newspapers and mail that requires someone to sign to testify that they received it. However, the postmen that had been taken for 4 months only, just like me, had been hired to bring around ALL of the old mail and letters.

 

You have to deliver mail until you have delivered all of the day's stuff. And of course, all of the previous day's stuff. You are paid for 8 hours of work, but if you need more time, it sucks, no one will pay you the extra time (extra time that you HAVE to do or you're fired).

So it's around 3:00 PM, under heavy rain, I'm working 'till 6 AM, and it started raining heavily at 8 AM, I'm tired, I'm soaking wet, as are my remaining letters, and I'm working without being paid for my extra hours of work. So I ring the doorbell of this guy, and stand there under heavy rain, waiting for him to come and sign for his mail. (something from the tribunal). So this guy opens the door.

He looks at me with clear distaste, the rain dripping down on me.

"Since when the postmen arrive so LATE?"

Since when I have tons of letters to deliver, left behind by other postmen, sucker.

"You should come here and sign under the dotted line, mister, please."

"But it's raining!!" he yells with the same distaste on his face.

You are a genius, dude.

"I know. But you have to sign here nonetheless - It's important and I can't leave it in your mailbox, I need your signature."

Clearly annoyed, he comes over, and tries to sign. Of course the paper he has to sign on is now under heavy rain and it is at risk of getting destroyed by the rain.

"The paper is too wet, I can't sign, what kind of service is this?"

Without a word I show him a dry place where he can put his signature.

Then I give him his letter. Which was surprisingly dry, at this point. Of course when I hand it to him, it gets wet under the rain.

He takes it in his hands as if it a dog had crapped all over it. Distaste again.

"Why is this letter wet?"

Because it's raining.

"Because it's raining."

With a killer look, he gets inside his house and slams the door shut.

I still remember fondly that day.

Especially because of WHAT I delivered to him.

Maybe he went in jail or he had to pay some really big fine! Let's hope.

[Ms. K]

Charley, that brought up a good point: it's been so long since I worked there that just thinking about all the stuff that went on there seems unbelievable to me too. There was one time that a friggin car smashed into the restaurant, but I was not working that day. Oh, and the time that two 40 year old waitresses walked out in the middle of their shift and beat the hell out of each other in the parking lot in the middle of the day. Oh, oh, or the time when this guy's wife came in and bit her husband (the manager) in the arm until she struck blood because he impregnated one of the waitresses.

 

Most of the time I worked there I was on the graveyard shift (going straight to high school after work sometimes), and stories like these are SO common among people who pull overnights. It's pretty surprising.

 

*just wanted to add one more thing, the violent scumbags don't leave tips.

 

Jesus jumped-up Christ on a pogo stick.

 

I swear to whatever deity, you are describing the drama of restaurant life to a T. And not just places that suck, I swear, it's EVERYWHERE.

 

Mr. K has worked for Domino's as a store manager (after being a delivery driver and an insider, and he can STILL slap pies, thank you very much), he went from there to a sit-down restaurant that ended up going out of business (he left them before the stress caused him to stroke out), from that restaurant to a French bakery/cafe (he left there before he was subpoenaed because of the actions of the company owners), from there to a steakhouse (he left there because he got a MUCH better offer), and from the steakhouse to the restaurant where he is now, and the hint you'll get is you'll want your baby back, baby back, baby back ribs, and to get in, get out, and get on with your life.

 

I have never, ever, ever seen so much inter-staff drama as I have in the food service industry. I worked in retail. I worked for Lockheed keying mail. I worked as a nurse's aide in a nursing home. None of those places comes CLOSE to the fucking DRAMA that happens in food service.

 

At Domino's, the franchisee had a gambling problem, and a cheating-on-his-wife problem. If you had to find him at 3 in the morning, you could call the local casinos and find him.

 

At the first sit-down restaurant, the first GM was banging not one, but TWO of the waitresses, making sexually harassing comments to five others, and Corporate refused to do anything until finally they ALL threatened to sue. So, then they brought in some other guy to be GM, and he was only there until they opened a new location near a beach. Then, they made Mr. K GM, and were complete shits to him. The corporate assmonkeys were pissed because Mr. K had pointed out the problems with the first GM, and they refused to do anything until it was almost too late. They had a major grudge against him for that. So, he found something better, told them to fuck off, and left.

 

At the French bakery/cafe, the higher-ups were violating health codes at their industrial site (they had their own production line for certain things, I wouldn't eat Miss Meringue meringue cookies, those of you in the So Cal area, they're probably still playing the same games with health codes). They were also engaged in money laundering, and bringing in their friends from France on travel visas, and then having them come in and manage, without being cleared to work in the U.S. Not to mention, the Ancel system was five years out of date on being inspected, and there was major cover-ups going on in the hiring of illegal immigrants to work who WEREN'T French, but came from the southern border. Mr. K decided he needed to jam before the Feds got involved, and he either got sued, subpoenaed, or had to be bailed out of jail.

 

At the steakhouse, OMG. The drama, oh Jesus, the drama. One of the cocktail waitresses had a boyfriend who came and did karaoke every fucking weekend. He was the dude RUNNING karaoke. She didn't trust him, and frankly, had every reason NOT to trust him, since he and his buddy who worked with him running karaoke would go out in the parking lot with various girls who came to sing karaoke (rather, to get drunk and THINK they could sing, not a good scene, really, not a good scene at all), and errr, get their pipes cleaned with a close oral inspection. So, she got into fights with him, and I mean PHYSICAL fights with him, in the bar, in the parking lot, in the office, in the lobby, and on the dining floor (bar is separate from dining area). She tried kicking the shit out of him more than once, and he put up with her shit. She also got into fights with other girls who came to sing karaoke.....in the bar....while they were "singing" (if you can call those lame-ass attempts singing). I mean, hair pulling, bitch slapping, blood flying, scratching, fights. Police were called. Mr. K wanted to fire this girl, and get rid of her boyfriend doing karaoke, because they were too much trouble. His boss said no, because they didn't want to get rid of her (because the boss was banging her, and wanted easy access, they actually got it on in the liquor locker once, and *I* walked in on them...and I didn't work there, I was doing Mr. K a favor and doing his liquor counts for him so he could get out faster. It was embarrassing.), and if they got rid of the boyfriend, they couldn't find someone to do karaoke that cheap. Mr. K got a better offer from a different place, and jammed.

 

I don't even want to TALK about the company he works for now. I'll just get mad all over again, because right now I'm pretty pissed off at him, partly because he's engaging in the drama, and partly because he made a major decision without even talking to me about it.

 

Let's just say that this one? Well, of all the managers I've seen in restaurants who can and do drink pretty much everybody under the table, these managers drink the most. They seriously drink like fucking fish. There's a lot of marital tensions, there's a lot of affairs (and I mean MULTIPLE affairs), there's a lot of angry wives (I'm one of them, but not because of affairs), there's a lot of backbiting, and the gossip is ugly.

 

I'm surprised that they're still in business, quite frankly, but I guess putting on a happy face covers a multitude of sins.

 

Restaurants. Who needs the fucking drama? I get sick of hearing about it on a near-daily basis from Mr. K. And he's in a new location that hasn't even OPENED yet, and they're already steeped in the fucking drama that's carrying over from a different location. And they wonder why I just look at them and tell them I'm not surprised when So-And-So is screwing them over? Hello, it was obviously going to happen, given the past patterns and history, and So-And-So's attitude of, "I've got mine, fuck you."

 

I'll take retail any day, just to not have to deal with the fucking drama of the staff in the food service industry. Not to mention the customers who deserve to have the shit knocked out of them on a regular basis, who only complain because they want something for free, not because something actually went wrong.

 

I think basically I hate people. God, when did I get so jaded?

[The Sage Nabooru]

How to magically increase your tips at a dog-lovers house: agree to be damn near mauled by the thing. I love dogs, and I always say to the people who try to restrain them "I'm good with dogs, it's okay!" Slobbered on, jumped on, nose-in-crotch galore, but everytime the cash is handed over it magically seems to increase from what other people get.

 

I am an owner of three dogs, one at ninety pounds, one at eighty, one at sixty. And when they so much as see somebody pulling into the driveway across the street, they go fucking nuts. Now of course my dogs would never bite anyone. They never have. They just get so damn excited when they see somebody new to meet coming up to the door, they want to jump all over and hug and kiss him and act like he's the greatest guy in the whole world to come over for a visit. And these are some strong dogs. We have to hold them back by practically sitting on them if we want to answer the door, via the door (now we'll usually go out through the garage if we hear the doorbell).

 

So, that extra tip is for two different things: 1, for having the shit scared out of you by a well-meaning dog who wants to show her affection by jumping on your face, and 2, we got four seconds to open the door, hold the dogs back, squeeze through, grab the grub, get back into the door whilst still holding back the dogs, and carry the food all the way to the kitchen without getting knocked over by three very excited dogs who smell fresh vittles, and we'd really rather you keep the six bucks rather than sit there and wait for you to count it out while dogs are trying to ram their way past our knees.

 

I used to work in the grimiest Dairy Queen this side of the river. Lemay was a really good neighborhood in the 60's, but now, although the old-folks' houses are still pretty nice, the rest is shit. And this Dairy Queen was in this shit.

 

One thing that amazes me is how much old people can be so goddamned rude. You don't know how many times I had to hear "Well, I'm never coming back to THIS restaurant again!" Fine, you wrinklesacked old geezer, you're not wanted here. All because I won't accept their expired coupons or I'm just not working fast enough and he's got eight squealing grandkids all over the counter who won't shut up so I can hear what he's ordering - obviously I'm doing all of this out of my own bitter spite and desire to piss him off. And then there was the night we had everything settled for closing - all the food put away, everything cleaned, dining area vacuumed, floors mopped, we're packed and ready to go home. Suddenly some ass pulls up to the drive-through, asks if we're open, and I'm about to say no when my boss says to take it. So we have to turn everything on over again and get all the stuff out all over so he can make his order.

 

Then I worked at a Famous-Barr during the Christmas season. You wanna talk stuck-up bitches......I remember one came in with her little kid. Talked to me like the nastiest cunt I've ever met in my life. I remember she wanted to return a shirt. Okay, fine. Oh, wait. She actually wanted to exchange it. Of course, I'm a stupid kid who knows shit about her job and how to work a cash register because she forgot to mention her stupid fucking exchange. So I put the new shirt in. Oh, wait. There's a sale going on for that shirt. She doesn't have the coupon, but I'm supposed to just have one at the counter and give it to her automatically, apparently. (Look, bitch, I may be at the cash register but it's not my fucking job to clip your fucking coupons for you, okay?) I said, "If you wanted the sale, you should've had the coupon and given it to me." "NOOOOOO, YOU should've had the coupon in the first place!" Okay, whatever, I've had it. The girl next to me at the other register opts to take her on. I honestly regret not giving her the biggest load of obscenity my mouth could think of.

 

But my co-workers weren't all sugar and spice, either. I remember we had a couple bring in a women's suit from upstairs. It was obivous. The total cost of the suit came to $300, the jacket and pants were in two totally different sizes, and for chrissakes, they still had the security tags on them - and they wanted to return them. I'm sorry to say that these people both smelled like the worst fucking bums I've ever come across and had the most disgusting cases of rotting meth mouth I've ever seen. They were both groggy and the man kept saying "I'm sorry, baby, I'm sorry!" over and over, and the woman said, "Yeah, fine, whatever," and they had a hug. Aww. Anyway, this is a common scam among criminals - pick up an expensive item and say you want to return it; get the cash "back" and then move ass. I did do the return (never, ever give 'em a hint you're watching them), and told the girl next to me to call security because I didn't have the authority to do so and frankly, I was new and didn't know how. She refused, saying they were "crabby tonight" and didn't think it was worth it and not a big deal, etc. etc. I think she was just lazy - there wasn't anybody else in the store at the time, and we had everything on the racks put away.

 

The big problem in fast food/retail is that ultimately your boss retains the position that the customer is invariably right and you're a worthless shit if the customer says so. The entire job is having the shit yelled out of you until you feel like absolute scum and kissing their asses in return - otherwise you'll get fired. I'll never go into it again.

 

Oh, and Ms. K, I definitely saw far more drama behind the fast-food counter than anywhere else I've worked. Our manager was a psychotic pothead (among other things, probably) who had cameras installed in the place - not for security but so she could watch our every move from her home. Our assistant manager - who was an everyfuckingdrugimagineablehead and hung around with her idiot loser of a boyfriend for God knows what reason - had to visit her at her home sometimes, and that's literally what the manager did all day: sit in front of the TV with last night's camera tapes, watching them all day to make sure we didn't do anything wrong. The cook was engaged to one of our shift managers, and while the shift manager was one of the nicest girls you could ever meet, the cook treated her like absolute shit. He was so fucking verbally abusive to her I could've kicked him in the mouth. He was always so nice to me, but man, if I did something wrong, he'd blame her and let it out on her. I wish I had the guts to tell her to get the fuck away from him. I remember one of the wonderful memories of their relationship she shared with me was the time he pulled down his pants, sat on her face with his asscrack right on her nose, and farted. Isn't that funny? She said, "I smelled shit all day!" Wow, what a hilarious guy.

 

We had another girl working there, a pregnant Mexican who lived down a street around a corner with ramshackle houses packed with men who cared nothing for their wives or families (all the money was spent on leather clothing and gold jewelry) and women who pretended they did anyway. And let me tell you what, that girl could down a six-pack when she was just as many months pregnant. Anyway, her relatives/lovers/friends/whatever, all male, kept coming in and ordering to her in Spanish, and then she'd tell me what to do. They were always stoned and would mumble to each other, and when I finally completed their three banana splits or four Peanut Parfaits, she would inform me that they no longer wanted them - her explanation was "They're weird" - and that they wanted huge quantities of something else, which I would also then make while she continued to chatter with them in Spanish, doing absolutely nothing. I cannot remember a single time they ordered something and actually ate and paid for it.

[Ms. K]

Sage Nobooru, you're certainly right about more drama in food service than anywhere else.

 

Mr. K says in the sit-down restaurant business, it's because you take 100 people, put them all in one room together, and expect them to work and get along. And instead, you get, "You stole my table, you fucking bitch!" "Well, YOU took my tips, you cunt!" "Listen you slut, you stole my BOYFRIEND that night we were all drunk and you decided it would be fun to suck his cock!"

 

I've had to hear their shit, when I've been eating at the restaurant. For some reason, they hide it well from other customers, but the "girls" figure I'm Mr. K's wife, so I've heard it all before, and they'll argue right in front of me. It gets annoying quickly.

 

I have broken up more than one fight that way. Of course, I also told them if they were going to beat the shit out of each other over something as fucking stupid as who got what table, and whether or not someone had bribed the host/hostess to make sure that SHE got the better-tipping parties, they could take it outside, and I'd videotape it and make money off BOTH of 'em, and never let 'em see a dime.

 

For some reason, that stopped 'em cold. I dunno why...I guess the thought of someone making money off their fight just didn't sit too well with them.

 

Now, since there's a new location opening, and there's no established drama because it's a whole new staff, I get to hear about backbiting between managers of DIFFERENT STORES. Yep....I get to hear about who screwed who over from what other store. I don't care, I really don't fucking care, but they all think I do.

 

Somebody, please....just help me get a dart gun and some tranquilizer darts.....the opening will go a lot smoother if the managers will just SHUT THE FUCK UP!

[Light_of_Reason]

The big problem in fast food/retail is that ultimately your boss retains the position that the customer is invariably right and you're a worthless shit if the customer says so. The entire job is having the shit yelled out of you until you feel like absolute scum and kissing their asses in return - otherwise you'll get fired. I'll never go into it again.

 

I just wanted to say that it isn't a picnic being a middle manager in a service oriented career, especially if you're trying to be a great manager.

 

You have to back policies from the higher-ups. You want to keep your staff happy. And you definitely don't want any crap from customers, because the angry customer usually puts you in a position where you either have to give a little and have higher-ups on you for doing that, reverse a decision made by your staff (which almost never goes well and insults the staff), take a tongue-lashing from a complete stranger for the team, or continuously repeat yourself until said irate customer leaves in complete frustration.

 

I've done all those before and none are fun. But I'd much rather take the tongue-lashing or make the customer leave frustrated than the other two options.

[godlessgrrl]

Oh wow, you know what job was a fucking piece of work?

 

The Census.

 

I worked for the 2000 US Census. I was fortunate that I had a great little team to work with, but boy I tellya - there were some fucking wackos at that job. The worst were the two utter bitches who were the midlevel regional managers - there was a pretty strict chain of command, so to speak; they were gals who were in charge of the various teams that counted different parts of different counties. These two women had the kind of attitudes where if you were somehow assigned to the wrong county, they'd snarl and scowl at you like it was your fault. They were rude, abusive, insulting, and just generally awful to everyone. One of our meetings for the second phase of the last part of the census taking basically consisted of these two standing at the front of the room and yelling at us all for 3 hours about what a bunch of worthless moochers we were for thinking we could actually get paid for full mileage like we were supposed to. I damn near got up and walked out of that job. I didn't though, because our immediate superior was a buffer between my team and these bitches - he was a total pothead loser (who I ended up, stupidly, dating after the census was done) but he could take anything from anybody and he just didn't give a flying fuck. So he handled all interactions with these women.

 

They just sucked though. I mean they didn't have a nice word for anybody, they yelled all the time, they talked to everybody as if they were totally stupid, they treated people as if the fuckups of the system were in fact their fault, and they were just nastyass bitches all around.

 

The regional director was a piece of work too. He was this wussy sort of semi-emasculated whiny guy who'd stand there and sort of ride the abusive wave a bit, trying to be as loud and pushy and obnoxious as the gals were, and then he'd basically turn things over to them. You couldn't ask any of them anything without getting told what a slow, stupid moron you were. Not to mention the manipulative office politics they were into, assigning or re-assigning people either to choice census areas or to bumfuck egypt, depending on who they liked or didn't like.

 

Aside from them, though, the job was actually pretty fun. I could see myself doing it again, though I'd sure have a different attitude about it. And I definitely wouldn't follow all the stupid bureaucratic bullshit rules they lay out. (Not like we followed them all anyway - the rules changed every week, so we'd review them and just do what actually made sense.)

 

Heh, and you should've seen some of the people who applied for that job and took the test. Trying to go through the manual was hilarious, in an utterly frustrating way. The folks leading the training kept telling everyone to hold their questions, because they'd get to the various situations you might find yourself in, and explain everything, but nobody listened. Every 2 minutes somebody'd raise their hand and ask, "But what if you find X situation??" And the trainers would get an exasperated look on their faces and tell them to hold on, they were about to get to that page. It happened over and over and over and over and over, until at one point I really really wanted to raise my hand and ask something like, "So what if we find a bunch of UFO's on the property with alien corpses in them; do we count those too, or do we have to find out if they were alive as of April 1st, 2000?"

 

Anyway. Yeah. The wild and lawless world of the US Census. Woo!