Sunday, September 27, 2009

Even Superstars Love Our Fries

Today my husband woke me earlier than noon (which is expected when you work until 3 a.m.) and said I needed to get dressed so we could go out somewhere as a family. It was a much needed day with the kids, and we all enjoyed one another's company. We didn't do anything fancy. I had to be at work by 18:00, and with living in the middle of nowhere, there is always a commute. We ended at the mall in the city where my daughter decided she HAD to have a purse now. I suppose she's growing up. She's not asking for Barbie dolls as much anymore. The play make up is getting played with more and more, and she wants a purse. Next thing I know she will be asking for a bra. Help me now.

She settled on a sparkely pink purse with silver star cutouts. It promptly went over her shoulder and she dumped her wallet into the change purse she had picked out to match.

Dad took our older son to the bookstore to pick out a book. He settled on a collection of games which was on sale extremely cheap. It was less than half of what we paid for the pocket book, so he was promised something else if he still wanted something. As soon as we entered the boys department at Sears he gasped "Daddy! Daddy! Oh I REALLY want this!" and pulls up a shirt with monster trucks all over it. Such a practical boy I have. I believe he has garnered more clothes than his sister at this point. I can't resist the gasps...and they are always on sale as he's as good a bargain hunter as his mom.

Baby brother, well, he was happy with his sippy cup, but we didn't forget him. He is the proud new owner of footie jammies. I can't wait for winter to see him in them.

On to Mc Donald's news though...

Things were slower tonight, with a steady stream of customers coming in one at a time. This is where the fun began.

In walks an older, erm, more mature gentleman. He's got snowey white hair and is rather stout with a kindly face. He places his order and I notice his hat. I'm not sure why I notice hats, but they tend to give a clue to the type of man that's at our store. This hat had a symbol on it that I immediately recognized at a Naval symbol with the snake and staff in front. I asked if he had been a Navy Medic and he perked up and said "How'd you know? And how did you know it was Navy?" I laughed and said that I was in school and had considered the Navy to pay off my med school loans when I got into med school. He said it was a worthwhile occupation and I stated I opted against it since I had three children at home and we were at war. The idea of leaving them for a deployment terrifies me, but that's another story for another day. He then pulls out his wallet and shows me a photo of himself in his dress blues. "Wow! You were a really decorated soldier!" I remarked at seeing multiple bars upon his jacket. He agreed, and gave me one more plug for the Navy. I doubt I'll ever take him up on it. But apparently, I've got connections now.

Later in the night I took an order from a woman who was not very talkative, but looked oh so familiar. "Where do I know her from?" I kept thinking as she rooted through her wallet for her change. *LIGHTBULB!*

"You have a very Susan Sarandon look to you mamm" I blurt out.

She looks down and refuses to make eye contact.

"Yes I get that alot."

Hmmm, should I push this thought? Perhaps she could be. I could persuade her for an autograph. I do adore her work, especially in Children of Dune. Control yourself. She would have stated as much if she was, and, if in fact she wanted you to know. Beside's you will look all stalker paparazzi like and have to start singing Lady Gaga songs to your coworkers or something obscene to that effect. I opted to simply say "I suppose everyone has a twin out there" and she nodded and took her food and left. I'm claiming it was a movie star extraordinaire. Anything less is just plain boring.

But, it gets better! I may be a believer after all. I swear to all that is holy, the holy man himself came and ordered burgers tonight. Long brown hair, beard and mustache. He totally looked like Jesus...with a blue tooth device at his ear. Hmmm...I wonder if that was so he could do the "hear all" thing he's known to do. Or maybe it's so he could answer prayers quicker. I've heard many an old lady claim they were going to call on Jesus to help. Perhaps too many old ladies were calling and he had to hook his blue tooth up to his phone so he could answer all their calls.

I'm simply saying, he looked very Jesus like. I totally expected him to start walking on water or ascending towards the ceiling.

Well, no miraculous events took place. The sky did not shake. I suppose it wasn't Jesus after all, but goodness, it could have been. He walked out the door and even had to push it open himself. And suddenly we were back to work trying to finish our tasks early so we could go home sooner.

The night is over, and all the excitement has me bushed. I think I'll head to bed and dream of movie stars and gods.

Saturday, September 26, 2009

Go on break and lose a doctor

Yes, I'm angry. No this has little to do with Mc Donalds, but, it's my blog and I can type what I wish. I have a friend. She's a pediatrician. An EXCELLENT pediatrician. I met her as a doctor first. I don't recall which came first, the friendship or the patient part, but needless to say she is one of those doctors who listen, and are honest. My kids adored her and we eventually moved their care to the clinic where she practices.

Imagine my surprise when I call to say hello during my break at work last night to find she had resigned. Things had just been toxic for a while for her at that office, but now my kids are out of a pediatrician. Unless of course she finds another clinic to practice at near me. I'll drive up to an hour for quality care so if you need a doctor holler! I don't want to transfer their care, and really, quite frankly, I don't want my friend to move.

I don't care for any of the doctors in that office and honestly never would have moved them to that place had it not been for her. So, guess what I'll be doing Monday...yup...moving my kids back to my family practice until I find out where my friend will land. blah.

I really wish I could rant and carry on. However, since this IS the world wide web, I don't want to say anything so public that could potentially upset anyone in this situation. I'm just angry for my friend and irritated that my children are losing one of the most excellent doctor's they've had.

And with that I ended up back on my shift, trying to finish work and simply sadened by the "yick" of it all...and yes, I said yick even though it's not a real word. Sometimes Webster's simply does not offer enough terms to convey what you wish to say without using words that are not family friendly. :(

What was I saying about men in uniform?

So last night, to my surprise I look up from my register to hear "MOMMMYYYYYY!" My husband had driven the 17.5 mile drive to deliver my cell phone and brought the kids to play at our indoor play ground. The baby (yes, I said baby Kristan!) instantly jumped in my arms and I was forced to take their order while being accosted with baby kisses. I'm really complaining. Can you tell? (grin) My daughter made me a "bookmark" which was promptly turned into a new name tag by my coworkers and so I went around the rest of the evening as "MOM Susan" with hearts and flowers on the side.

Five minutes after they left I see the bus. "Is it empty?" my manager calls out. I couldn't tell as it had tinted windows. But then they started pouring out..."FULL! And their all in uniform. Drop more fries, they're gonna be hungry!"

In trapsed the soldier boys. Most of which were privates or VERY low ranking. A few higher ranking enlisteds were there, however the majority of our armed forces last night were mere babies. Me in my insane desire to know things start asking questions. No one answers. Of course I must admit I'm a sucker for a conspiracy theory so we "theorized" they were on a secret ops mission. All I know is that the youngsters were not fresh out of boot camp as that was my first question. (Yes I'm shameless that way).

They could have been lying about that fact as we asked if we should expect more buses with their group and they said no. Not 5 minutes after that question, another bus from the same charter company pulls up, filled with soldiers again. Hmmmm. I did garner where they were from and going vaguely. Both buses were on the same path. Not sure why the soldier boys were so hesitant to share, but if they WERE doing some secret ops thing...perhaps it's best they didn't as I'd have been tempted to blog my life away. I'm pretty sure there may be military rules or something about giving away your local in war time.

As the lobby was crammed like a pack of cammoflaged sardines, in walks one of our teen employees. He's dressed in his ROTC uniform. Perfect! He gets on my nerves some days anyway. I looked at the guys from the bus and said "HEY! Take this one with you! He's already dressed to go, just don't give him a gun, or you'll regret it." Little red headed ROTC boy blushed. Co-workers laughed. Soldier boys, I must admit, grinned and chuckled. Poor kid. He'll survive though. I torment him anyway most days. It's just too easy. And he knows I like him in spite of the nerves he annoys sometimes.

So the buses left, and all calmed down until the hot man with accent came through drive through. My manager handed out a portion of his meal while I bagged it and came back stating he could talk to her in his accent all day. Of COURSE I had to jump over and explain his sandwiches would "take a moment", and wait for him to respond. "Oh my! Where are you from? Austrailia?" He grins and says "No, but I used to be from northern Ireland" and half way through that sentance I knew it was Ireland. Most definitely he could speak to me all day in that Bellfast babble. Everyone had a great laugh when my manager yelled out that she was telling my husband I was talking to random men in drive through. But,hey...that's me. I love an accent. Add a cute goatee to the mix, I may consider moving to that border town in Colorado and forming a polygamous relationship, since we won't be dismissing the husband anytime soon.

All in all, tireing, but fun night. My break brought some bad news, which I feel deserves it's own post, so off to blog some more. In the mean time go order some fries or something.

Sunday, September 20, 2009

We love our men in uniform

As a result of our huge rig parking lot, we have quite a few truckers come through our doors. I'm starting to believe there is a UPS distribution center nearby, though. We get the UPS men (haven't had a lady yet) in the store often and many times they are regulars. However, it led to a discussion on the UPS man and how truely hunky they can be. It has been determined by the crew that someone needs to write a song, or at the very least an ode to the UPS man and so I submit my contribution to our team. This one is for you Sammycakes...

Oh dear UPS man in your pants that are brown
We anxiously wait the days you come to town.
For few things are hotter than uniformed men.
And even your shorts let us see legs again.

But unlike uniforms that defend the night,
from dress greens, to blues and even the whites,
You don't carry swords, but come bearing gifts.
Your package brings joy, gives our spirits great lifts.

So dear UPS man please stay in our lives.
Come see us often and bring joy to all wives
All sisters, and daughters and women of pride
We'll hold open our arms as you bring us delights.

Few things bring more joy to me and my friends,
Than opening boxes from UPS men.

Yo ho ho and a bottle of...oh wait, all we have is water bottles, sorry.

Wow, what a night. It all started with me arriving behind a bus. Before I realized it, I had clocked in, washed my hands and ran up front to see where I could help and there were THREE buses. There was no time to discover where people were from or going, but I did happen to notice, one bus was the same group of people who were traveling to Sight and Sound last night.

Great teamwork. We got all the customers taken care of and there were very few moments of anger (though I do believe every employee had a moment this evening. We just hid those moments from the customers). One lady asked for our manager and told her that she was very pleased with how well we worked together and how we handled all the chaos. I patted the manager on the back and said "Good! Now remember that when we start goofing off later!" ... Later never came. We were swamped the rest of the night.

Our normal set up is one person in the back of the store taking orders and money, one up front handing orders out and one bagging those orders. When we are really busy, cashier is split into two people and one person takes the orders while another takes money. By the end of the night I found myself up front, taking orders, taking money, bagging those orders AND handing them out all by myself and the cars kept rolling in. Needless to say, I was pretty stressed out after a while. My coworkers tried to help me, but we were at a skeleton crew by then, so I simply had to take my time and ask many a customer "could you hold on for just one moment please?" In spite of my personal pandemonium, my register was the only register with a perfect cash count at the end of the night. Yay me!

In other news and in relation to my title tonight, the rest of this post will be dedicated to all the pastifarians out there. May you be touched with his noodely appendage and have a happy weekend filled with piracy. That's right, today is international talk like a pirate day and we could not let that slip our memories. T'is too much swashbuckeling fun to be had. I did what was only proper and came to work in my pirate hat and promised the crew that if any angered me they would be sent to the bathrooms to "be swabbin' thuh poop deck with ye!"

Most kids just stared at me today as if I had something funny on my head. Our regulars just laughed at me as I gave them a good and hearty "ARRRR!" A few asked what was with the hat, and then there were others that shreaked "It's TALK LIKE A PIRATE DAY!!!!!" and yet, they never arrrr'ed me. I called a few of the crew a pretty wench. When the guy in grill wouldn't make my order fast enough I said "ye be an ugly wench". Then a customer challenged me to a duel to the death by sword. We had no swords so t'was spoons instead. I made the fatal blow by jabbing him in the center right of his chest. Yes, those anatomy books I've been reading are paying off. I know where the heart be.

I told my boss I needed to change the name on my name tag to Morgan. I thought it would make a good girl pirate name. She told me that "Captain Morgan was probably not very appropriate". I don't know why (evil grin). She then suggested I go as Jack today. So my name tage was officially changed for the night...

We offered fruit to customers and our arctic orange shakes "so ye don't get scurvey!" and in spite of the dredges of customers that flooded our doors as if there was a clown car in the vestebules, we had a great time. For now, I am exhausted and I hear my pillow calling. Pirate day is over and I have done my part to reduce natural disasters so FSM please help us all. Here is proof of my participation in today's events, complete with pirate scowl...

Friday, September 18, 2009

Lot's of preteens, quite a few teens and a few adults

As usual, Fridays during the school year are busy. Post football game rush tends to hit with many a hungry quarter back. Most times both teams pounce and a traveling team or two. It's always quite chaotic. Tonight was steady, but nothing overwhelming and actually only one bus.

We all became nervous when noticing that the first half of people to walk through the door looked to be younger than ten. Things get broken when teenagers conglomerate. I shudder to think of what tweens could do in their exuberance to be on a trip away from home.

A few adults came in and some teenagers followed up the rear. Things were quite busy and I was only up front with the customers briefly as my primary job this evening was drive through cashier. I prefer to call it the dungeon as it's probably the most isolated position from your coworkers in the store (next to dishes of course).

In the brief moment up front I did chance to snag where they were going.

"Lancaster, to see Sight and Sound".
"Well that sounds fun!" I reply. Yet in my mind I'm thinking that's a lot of money to spend on tweens who may not have the capacity to sit still that long.

They all orders for milkshakes (which drained our machine for a bit) and went on their merry little way, all 50+ of them.

What is Sight and Sound you ask? Well, it's basically the Christian version of Broadway. Much cleaner (though "In the Beginning does look to have a topless hunky man in it), no city traffic to contend with, and very Bible oriented with a mini little "get saved" message at the end. I'm not quite sure what the purpose of that little message is being I doubt this is a place atheists will frequent, but still, I'd go again if I had the cash and I'm a flaming heathen. I suppose it will make the evangelicals happy to preach a bit at the end, but it's a minor discomfort for what I think is a good show. And really, if you're going to convert from a play, I think you were well on your way to conversion to begin with.

They specialize in musicals and the theaters are quite nice. One has a stage that surrounds you on three sides, but the tickets run near 50 dollars, last I checked, and that nixes it off my list of permissible forms of entertainment. I do work at Mc Donalds after all. It's not like I can go gallivanting around upper class society very often at all.

I figured though, since I've rambled much about this little gem in the heart of Amish country I'd put a little advertising plug in for those who may be interested. Hopefully, you will be there when the tweens are all sitting quietly. If not, just tell them to shush and you'll buy them a cookie at intermission.

Here is a link for their website. One day I will figure out how to make it say "click here" and actually link, but for now, enjoy the entire long link in all its glory.

And seriously, who wouldn't want to arrive at a theater that looks like this?

It almost makes you want to say it with a British accent "theeaytor" and drink Earl Grey with your pinkie out.

So if you're in the mood for some stories of old put to song and dance, I suppose you could give them a try. Too bad they're not in the mood to remake Beowolf. It may be too pagan for such a corps of actors, but if they did, I would totally go into debt over those tickets if they actually came out with that on stage.

Thursday, September 17, 2009

Hi sir, may I take your order and find out where you're from?

There are a few things that are certain in my store when I am working.

1. If there is a bus, by the end I will know where they are from, where they are going and how much the old ladies intend to gamble while they are there.

2. If you are reading a book, I will probably find out what you are reading and get into a discussion on your favorite author in the span of ten seconds since we offer 90 second service and I can't waste time getting your sandwich.

3. If you have an accent in anyway NOT American, I will pounce. I'm an accent whore admitedly. I love to find out where people are from and I could listen to someone speak broken English all day. Those from Quebec tend to look very surprised when I get all bright eyed and say "Quebeqois oui?" Not that my french is good, but I love the Quebec accent. It's a personal favorite of mine.

All this leads into a story, I promise. A few days ago things were somewhat busy, so I was asked to take a few orders instead of the cleaning I had been doing at that moment. One of the last customers of that bunch approached with his companion (I'm assuming a wife). He was rather tan, and bald and looked somewhat familiar with his friendly looking laugh lines. Instantly I realized he was not American when he began to ask for a Mc Double. So of course, I in all my grand noseyness inquired..."Where is your accent from sir?" to which he grinned from ear to ear and said "you think I talk strange?" I apologized and stated that I adore accents and finding out where people are from and his companion stated that I must be a geography buff (she was more than likely American). So he asks me if I truely want to know where he is from and I say yes of course and he grins once more and says "guess".

And so the game began...hmmm....Korean? No. That can't be right. He sort of looks Asian but not Korean. Taiwann? No...I know the accent is one I'm not familiar with but the face...hmmm...the face. Where have I seen that before?

It's then that I realize he looked strikingly similar to a picture a professor of mine had of a Tibetan monk and so I blurt out "Tibet?"

He was all smiles and said "No, but I'm surprised at how close you are."
~ "So where exactly are you from then?"
~ "Nepal" says the man.

Nepal? I've never met anyone from Nepal before. And this one was truely a gem. A very kind soul I could tell right away. I stated he was the first I had met from there, but I do know where it is and showed my pearly whites. He smiles and excuses himself to get his drink at the beverage bar while I put his order together and take a few more orders that walked in at that moment.

I notice him speaking to his lady friend. I think nothing of it. People talk at the beverage bar all the time. My job is to get them warm food so they are happy and come back for more. He returns around the time I finish bagging his sandwiches and holds out his hand to me...

"Here, this is for you"

He pauses...I start to say we can not accept tips..."It's a symbol of good luck and prosperity. You'll be manager by tomorrow".

I'm stunned, and smile. No stranger has ever been this kind to me and although I realized I was not permitted to accept tips, could I graciously accept this kind man's well wishes? He opened his hand and placed a porcelein painted stone strung on a leather string in my hand, and all I could do was utter "awe....thank you. Thank you so much". This man wished me to progress within the company. How sweet of him. Little did he know my aspirations were a tad higher than french fry coordination, but I found myself accepting his little gift unsure of how to loosen it to place it around my neck and so I opted to wear it as a bracelet so I could finish orders before figuring out the clasp.

I did figure it out eventually. I placed it around my neck. It matches my uniform and so it looks like it belongs. I shared with a few co workers the story and we had a little laugh, but it was more of a "wow that man is so nice" kind of laugh.

The next night our manager was hungry and convinced us all to go to a 24 hour truck stop after we closed that night. As we sat around the table I shared the story of the man from Nepal. Then I realized it was after midnight. "Sorry, he was wrong" I said. We all had a good chuckle, though I still had my good luck charm on.

The next morning I awoke after not removing it, to a phone call. A job I had applied to had called and asked to interview me. It would double our income if I could go full time and even more if I maintained hours at Mc Donalds still. Sure I'd be working my life away, but for the moment I'm taking a semester off and need the extra money. Hmmm...perhaps this little bauble is lucky....

I went to that interview today. They offered me the job on the spot. I haven't decided if I'm taking it yet, but really wish I could see the man from Nepal to let him know his well wishes were very appreciated and apparently useful. Wherever you are sir, thank you, from the bottom of my heart. :)

Me and my good luck charm waiting to be interviewed.

Salutations from the world of fast food!

Hi all.
I'm a mom, I'm in school aiming to go into healthcare while funding that education clogging the arteries of the world. I work at a very busy fast food restaraunt because, in spite of having a college degree, the economy has deemed that making french fries is all that I am good for.

Ordinairily one would find themself depressed at such a thought. On the contrary, when you work at a store that's got a truck stop and easy access on and off an interstate that runs from Canada to Florida, you get to meet a gammut of people to enthral you.

I've decided to chronical my plight as well as the more interesting individuals I meet there. Hopefully this little blog will one day get a post all capitalized declaring I've been accepted into med school. In the meantime, we shall endeavor to entertain ourselves at the expense of my customers at Mc Donalds. Honestly, I love my job. I just wish it paid more...and was a tad healthier.