Monday, December 20, 2010
Party Girl: I really have to go home, JB. I'm in major pain.
Me: (you're a major pain...) H*ll, no! Too bad this time. Stop getting plastered every other day and doing the deed with God knows who. Go get some cranberry juice and suffer through it.
Older Woman Co-Worker: Come on now, JB, don't be so hard on her.
PG: Yeah, JB, it really hurts.
Me: (glaring at PG, and then turning to speak to OWC) Why not? She does it to herself and we are busy here. I can't do everything myself, you know.
OWC: But, JB, her meat hurts.
PG: (practically screeching) MY WHAT????
Me: (OMG, WTF??????) Excuse me, what did you say?
OWC: I said her meat hurts.
Me: (holy crap, I did hear right) Her meat???
OWC: Yes, I don't like saying the word.
Me: What word?
OWC: You know...
Me: (maybe...) Come on, tell me.
OWC: V... v... you know...
Me: (omg, seriously??) Are you telling me that you refer to a woman's vagina as her meat??
OWC: (practically cringing... the poor God fearing woman) Yes, meat. I... I don't say the "v" word. My mother told me when I was young that it was a bad word.
PG: (nothing, just a wide eyed look over at me)
Me: (trying not to laugh) OK, explain to me why you call it meat.
OWC: Well, if she (referring to PG) would stop washing her meat in hot water, she would get less infections. Hot water is not good for the meat.
PG: (flabbergasted) Excuse me??
Me: (OMG, is this old woman for real??) You don't honestly believe that, do you?
OWC: (pointing to the left) Look over there, JB.
Me: (the only thing over there is... OMG...) You mean at the meat counter?
OWC: Yes, exactly.
Me: (O... K...) Now what??
OWC: Well, you see the meat over there?
Me: (where the h*ll is she going with this??) Yes...
OWC: Well, the guys over there wash it all in cold water and that's why it's clean.
Me & PG: (nothing, just a quick look between us, eyes bugging out our heads)
OWC: Cold water stops infections, but hot water makes them spread.
(Note: Just so we're clear, I have no frickin' clue where OWC got that idea that the meat department guys wash the meat to keep it clean. Meat is for sale as long as it's fresh. If it doesn't sell, it gets thrown out... not washed.)
Me: (it's too crazy... I have no words... just laughter)
OWC: (very serious) I mean it, JB! My mother always washed my meat in cold water.
Me: (TMI... TMI!!!) I... oh... my... hmmm...
PG: (speaking to OWC) I don't know what the h*ll you're going on about, but my meat, as you call it, hurts because I have sex a lot. You know, sex??
Me: (OMG, she did not just say that!!!!) Uh, PG, that's not...
PG: (interrupting me) You remember, sex, don't you? So, that's why my meat hurts, OK? Not because I wash it with hot water.
Me: (oh, h*ll...) Alright, PG, enough.
OWC: (practically in tears) You... you young people.. you don't know anything... you don't... I am going on my break!!
Me: (ah, sh*t...) Wait...
OWC: (practically running out of the bakery) No, I'm going!
PG: Do you really think she washes her vah-jay-jay with cold water, JB?
Me: (turning to look at PG) Enough! Enough, or I'll end up having nightmares about that old woman and her meat.
PG: I'm in soooo much pain, JB.
And I will never be able to look at meat the same way ever again.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
* To 20 more years of fist pumping action bros!
(my blog rating is PG, so I'm not even going there...)
* I hate all of you equally
(oh, come on, surely you hate one of them just a teensy bit more than the rest)
* I know last week was your birthday. Guess I'm sorry.
* This cake was never meant for you
(so, you spent 25 bucks just for fun?)
* Good luck at your new job 'cause your going to need it
(wow, way to boost someones ego, buddy)
* Happy 16 birthday to my daughter/son
(I guess some parents aren't sure??)
* I never really cared much for birthdays
(but you cared enough to buy a cake?)
* Why happy birthday?
(um, maybe because it's better than sad birthday)
* To all the birthdays I missed, I'm sorry for this one
(what? only this one?)
* Birthdays suck and so do you sista!
(nothing like getting a cake to tell someone how you really feel)
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
And it's pink! I love pink! lol
This award was given to me by Glen over at Glen's Life. He hasn't been reading my blog for very long, but I think he's hooked on my crazy work stories. :) He thinks they're "charming and amusing" (that's a direct quote, folks). Thanks, for thinking of me, Glen. You rock, mate!
Like all other awards, this one comes with a checklist...
1. Thank the person who sent it to you - Check!
2. Post the award - Check!
3. List three things you like to do
* Riding my bike
* Doing yoga cause it keeps me sane
* Cooking (and drinking wine)
4. Send the award on to 5 other blogs that you think are deserving
* Paris Hotel Boutique
* Reverie Daydream
* Color Me Katie
* Habitually Chic
* Fabulously French
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Anyway, when he finally made it to the counter, he grabbed onto it with both hands, steadied himself as upright he possibly could, looked me straight in the eye and said...
OMWHA: I vant a vife zake.
Me: (holy frickin' accent, dude!!) I'm sorry, sir, you want a what?
OMWHA: I vant a vife zake!
Me: (hmm... a vife zake... a wife zake... a wife cake... A WHITE CAKE!!) Sir, would you like a white cake?
OMWHA: (annoyed) No, no, no! D'you no lizen me!
Me: (oh, I hear you, alright, I just can't understand you) I'm sorry, sir.
OMWHA: (tapping his tattered fingers on the display case) I van dis zake.
Me: (looking down & spotting a white birthday cake) Sir, you want a white birthday cake?
OMWHA: (annoyed, again) Dis vat I zay!
Me: (uh, not exactly, but OK) Right, that's what you said. Would you like me to write something on it for you?
OMWHA: You vite happy berth-day nine two.
Me: (wow, I actually understood that... guess he practiced saying it before he got here) OK, so you want Happy Birthday 92? What about a name?
OMWHA: (angry) No, no, no!!!
Me: (sh*t, this guy's gonna have a heart attack) I'm sorry, sir. Please tell me again.
OMWHA: No, I vite down, z'ok?
Me: (it's z'ok with me, but will I be able to read it?) Alright, sir, just a moment.
I quickly grabbed a pen & a piece of scrap paper and made my way back to the counter.
Me: (handing OMWHA the pen & paper) Here you go, sir.
Ever so carefully, OMWHA started writing down what he wanted on his cake. This is going to take a while, I thought to myself.
A couple of minutes later, OMWHA handed the piece of paper back to me with the words "Happy Berth-day 92 my wife" scrawled on it. OK, not only did he practice saying it, but he practiced writing it down too? Seriously, how can he write in English better than he can speak it?
Me: Sir, is this (pointing at "berth-day") how you want me to spell "birthday" for you?
OMWHA: (nothing, just shaking his head like he can't believe how dense I am)
OMWHA: (sighing) Vatz vong vid'you? Vite on zake like paper, z'ok?
Me: (z'ok, man, Z'OK!! Geez!!) Yes, sir, I'll be right back.
As I wrote OMWHA's birthday message on the cake, I thought about some other weird things people have asked me to write on cakes for them. Remember that redundant message Multiple Cake Guy wanted on his son's birthday cake?? Yeah, I think I'm going to make a list of strange cake messages for a future blog post.
Me: (returning to the counter) Here's your cake, sir. I hope your wife has a lovely birthday (and I hope you can walk & carry that cake at the same time).
OMWHA: (nothing, just a grunt and another shake of his head)
Yup, I'm pretty sure the old guy thought I was a complete idiot.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Hey everyone, sorry I've been away for so long. I'm back today just long enough to post an award that has now come my way twice in the last couple of months -- The Versatile Blogger Award. This award was given to me by Avery and Staci. Thank you ladies so very much for thinking of me.
Now, as a recipient of this award, I am supposed to post the badge on my blog, list 7 things about me, and then pass the award on to 15 bloggers with blogs that I think deserve a special mention.
* 7 Things About Me:
1. I'm a sucker for romantic movies
2. I'm really hard on myself when I can't get things right
3. Love my family way too much
4. I'm a total workaholic
5. People in general piss me off a lot more then I care to admit
6. I always wanted to be a teacher
7. I love to write eventhough I know it's the thing I'm worst at, but I don't care
* 15 Bloggers I am awarding:
1. Maggie May
4. Amanda Grace
6. T&D Girl
Whew, what a list!
I'll be back next week with a new work story.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Recently, an old women (well, she wasn't that old, maybe 65 or so) showed up at the meat counter looking to buy the sirloin special of the week. I don't know how long she'd been waiting for one of the guys to come out and help her, but it must have been too long because she came over to the bakery asking for service. What unfolded from that moment on was quite the spectacle. In the end, a request for sirloin turned into a demand for free meat, and that's exactly what she got.
Free Meat Lady: (approaching the bakery counter) Excuse me, can I get some service?
Me: Yes, mam, what would you like?
FML: I want some meat.
FML: How do I get meat service?
Me: Mam, there's a button at the end of the meat counter that you can press. It will alert one of the guys in the back to come out so you can get some service.
FML: Oh, OK. Thank you.
I watched her go over to the meat department to make sure she spotted the button I was talking about. She found it alright, put her finger on it, and let it ring. She waited a few seconds, then pressed it again, this time keeping her finger on it for what seemed like a full minute, but no one came out to serve her. Meanwhile, from where I was standing, I could see through the meat department's backroom door (it has a glass window) that the guys where in there, butchering away. Those guys are such bastards, I was thinking to myself, when...
FML: HELLO??? HELLO?? CAN I GET SOME SERVICE OUT HERE???
The woman had started yelling for one of the guys to come out front.
Me: (turning to speak to Drey, my co-worker) I can see those guys back there. They definitely heard her because I saw them look towards the door when she yelled.
Drey: OMG, this is crazy!
Me: I know!
FML: (banging her hand on the display case) HELLO? (bang, bang, bang) IS ANYONE GOING TO SERVE ME SOME MEAT??? (bang, bang, bang)
Well, that did us in. Drey and I started laughing. I know it wasn't right because that woman did not deserve to be treated like that by those jerks, but you had to be there. We just couldn't help it. We were so far gone, we had to duck behind the counter so no one could see us, especially not FML. I don't think that would have gone over very well.
When we came up for air, I saw the Irishman (one of the guys who works in the meat dept.) exiting the backroom.
Me: (nudging Drey) Look, it's the Irishman. He's going to talk to her.
Drey and I moved closer to the end of the bakery counter so we could hear what they were saying.
Irishman: (speaking to FML) Mam, how can I help you?
FML: (rudely) By serving me some meat.
Irishman: OK, what kind of meat would you like?
FML: I want the sirloin that you have on special.
Irishman: I'm sorry, mam, we're all out.
FML: (raising her voice and getting as close as she could to the Irishman, despite the display case between them) I don't care, I want the special.
Irishman: I'm sorry, mam, I can give you a rain check.
FML: NO! No rain check! Let me speak to your manager!
Irishman: I'll go get him, mam. Just a moment.
Well, forget waiting, FML followed the Irishman behind the counter, and they didn't even get to the door because out came the meat manager with a huge a** knife in his hand. Drey and I gasped as he, FML and the Irishman almost collided.
Meat Mngr: (backing away with his knife just in time) Mam, you can't be back here.
FML: (yelling at the meat manager) I DON'T CARE! I WANT FREE MEAT!
Meat Mngr: OK, Mam, what kind of meat do you want?
FML: I want the meat special. I want the sirloin.
Meat Mngr: Mam, I don't have that, but name your meat, any meat, and you can have it.
FML: I want free meat then.
Meat Mngr: No problem. What kind would you like?
FML: (stressing every word) I WANT FREE MEAT!!
Meat Mngr: Right, OK, mam, I'll be right back.
Off he went into the backroom to get FML some meat. Meanwhile, Drey & I were dying of laughter. It crossed my mind that maybe I should go get myself some Depend undergarments before I pissed myself, and some oxygen for Drey before she passed out.
Meat Mngr: (exiting the backroom with a large package of meat) Here you go, mam. Here is your free meat. I even put a sticker on it so they won't stop you at the cash.
FML: (grabbing the package from his hands & looking it over) It's not what I wanted, but it will do.
And, just like that, it was all over.
Me: (pulling myself together & turning to speak to Drey) Wow, that was... wow.
Drey: Yeah... wow.
Me: I really thought I was gonna pee my pants.
Drey: (giggling) OMG, don't get me started again.
Meat Mngr: (approaching our counter) Hey, you guys hear any of that?
Me: Uh, she was yelling. How the h*ll could we not?
Meat Mngr: F**k, man. I gave her like 10 pounds of free rib eye, and she still wasn't happy.
Me: (gee, I wonder why, jacka**) Yeah, she was pretty pissed.
Meat Mngr: I need an f-ing smoke.
Yeah, shoved up your a**, sh*thead. Maybe that will teach you not to ignore your customers.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Drey: Hi, Mam. Could you please stop your child from banging on the glass.
FTL: (ignoring Drey's request) I want a birthday cake with "Happy Birthday, John" written on it.
Drey: Sure, but please stop your child from banging on the glass. It's dangerous.
FTL: (finally pulling her child aside) I want a chocolate cake.
Drey: OK, which one?
FTL: That one on the left.
Drey pulled out a round chocolate cake and made her way over to the table where I was working. She started writing on the cake, got to the "J" in John, when...
FTL: Stop! I changed my mind. I want a white one.
Me: (WTF???? Yell a little louder, lady.)
Drey: Mam, I already started writing on it. I just have to finish the name.
FTL: But I want white one.
Me: (my cue to say something) Mam, you watched her write on the cake. Why didn't you stop her before she started?
FTL: Just scrape off the writing and put it back in the display case.
Me: (gee, thanks for telling me how to do my job) Mam, we can't do that.
FTL: Well, I want a white one.
Me: (and I'd like to smack you silly) Are you sure?
Me: (turning to speak to Drey) Go ahead and get a white one.
Drey comes back to the table with a round white cake and starts writing. Again, she got to the "J" in John, and...
Me: (is she f**king serious?) Mam??
FTL: I want the chocolate one.
Me: (OMG, what the hell is her problem??) Mam...
FTL: You know, I'll take them both.
Me: (both? huh?) Are you sure, Mam?
Me: (right, like the last time) Are you really sure?
Me: (nothing, just a quick nod at Drey who was waiting for my go ahead)
FTL: Hey, can u give my kid a cookie?
Me: (she did not just ask me that) No, we can't.
FTL: Why not?
Me: (leaving the desserts I was working on & making my way over to the counter to strangle her with my bare hands... well, at least I wanted to) Mam, I can't open a package of cookies just to give one to your child.
FTL: (rudely) Why not?
Me: (I'm so going to kill this biatch) Because it's against protocol.
FTL: (taunting me like a naughty child) Oh, yeah?
Me: (why do I have a bad feeling about this) Yes.
The woman didn't even answer me back. She just turned around, picked up a package of cookies on the table behind her, opened it up and handed her kid two chocolate chip cookies.
Me: (nothing, just an "OMG, did you f-ing see that?" look over at Drey as she was boxing up the two cakes)
FTL: (plopping down the open package of cookies in front of me) There you go. Just say I dropped the package and it broke open.
Me: (nothing, just trying to calm the h*ll down)
Drey: (approaching the counter with the cakes) Here you are, Mam.
FTL: (all smiles, like nothing happened) I guess I'll be eating two cakes tonight.
Yeah, and I hope you frickin' choke, you fake tanned fiend!
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Hey everyone, it's Eddy here. Today is JB's 2nd blogoversary, and I'm surprising her with a little blog makeover. She's been wanting to add pages to her blog since before Blogger was actually offering the option, and now she's got them! I've also made a few other changes that we talked about way back when, and I think things turned out pretty good.
If you take a look around JB's blog, you'll see that her work stories and poems are no longer listed down the left side. Instead, you can now find her work stories on the Crazy Work Stories page, and her poems on the Black Thoughts Poetry page. There is also a page dedicated to some other amusing stories - Bizarre Dreams & More - that aren't work related. Also, JB's blog awards have been moved from the bottom right side of her blog to the Blog Awards Gallery page. Lastly, there is a personal page - About JB - with links to a number of insightful posts. :)
If you're looking to add/follow JB elsewhere on the web, you can easily do so via the social bookmarking buttons on her blog, or via the links below:
RSS (JB's blog posts)
Widgets showing some of JB's fave movies, books and music are still on the right side of her blog, but they take up less space now. Meanwhile, her blog archive and recent posts have been moved from the left side of her blog to the new columns at the bottom. The search box is down there as well.
Well, I guess that's all, folks. For those of you who take a minute to leave JB blogoversary wishes, I'd really appreciate it if you could also take a moment to let me know if the blog changes are showing up OK where ever you are in the world.
Until next time,
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
TTL: I'd like some service here!!
Me: (geez, tone it down, lady) Hi, can I help you?
TTL: Well, I'm standing here, so I guess I need help.
Me: (uh, rude much?) What can I get you?
TTL: I want some tarts.
Me: OK, how many would you like?
TTL: I don't know.
Me: (here we go...) Mam, if you can decide on how many you want, I can get the right size box to put them in for you.
TTL: Like I said, I don't know, so just start pulling them out.
Me: (right, all 100 of them... NOT!) Mam, do you want a couple of each kind?
TTL: (pointing) Well, I want that strawberry one with the raspberries on that tray, the blueberry one on that tray, and the two blackberry on that tray there.
Me: (for the love of God...) Mam, each tray has a mixed variety of tarts on them, so I can actually pull out all those different kinds of tarts that you asked for off of this first tray.
TTL: (eyes big and wide) NOOOO!!!! I want the the ones I showed you!
Me: (holy crap, calm the h*ll down) Mam, they are all the same from one tray to the next.
TTL: How do I know that you're telling me the truth?
Me: (seriously???) I just made them, mam.
TTL: (in a commanding tone) Pull the trays out so I can pick my own tarts.
Me: (uh, excuse me??) Mam, I can't pull out all ten trays.
TTL: I want to see them up close.
Me: (let me bash your face into the glass, would that be close enough?) OK, I'll pull out only those three trays with the tarts that you pointed at.
As soon as I got the trays up on the counter, she started pointing and touching.
TTL: I want this one, this one, not that one, or that one. This one, not that one. This one here, and...
Me: (OMG, just touch them all, why don't you) Mam, please don't touch the tarts that you don't want to buy.
TTL: (rudely) I'm choosing what I want.
Me: (easy, biatch) Yes, mam, but you're also touching the tarts that you don't want me to pack for you.
Five minutes later, I had twenty tarts packed up for her and was ready to send her on her way when...
TTL: Are you sure you made these today? I'm taking these to a special dinner party and I do not want to be embarrassed.
Me: (OMG, enough already) Yes, I made them just before we opened for business today.
TTL: Good because I just didn't have time to make anything myself and I want to make a good impression.
Oh, you made an impression, alright. You left a fingerprint on every single one of those tarts that you're going to serve to your friends. Mmm... yummy.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Me: (looking up from the cake that I was icing to see a woman pointing at the bread rack behind the counter) Hello, can I help you?
FBL: (nothing, just waving her finger at God knows what on the bread rack)
Me: (for the love of God, I'm not a mind reader, lady) Is there something in particular you're pointing at?
FBL: I want a baguette.
Me: (she speaks!) Oh, those are not baked yet.
FBL: Yes, they are.
Me: (how the h*ll would you know?) No, they're not.
FBL: You don't bake here?
Me: Not from scratch. The dough comes to us frozen, and we just put it into the pans to bake.
FBL: Exactly what kind of bakery are you?
Me: We're a non-baking bakery.
FBL: What's your name?
Me: (pointing at my name tag) JB, I'm the assistant manager.
FBL: You have bad attitude for an assistant manager.
Me: (WTF, lady??) I'm sorry, but did you want me to lie and tell you that we bake from scratch?
FBL: (nothing, just looking at me with a really sour expression)
Me: (great, back to mind reading) Mam, do you still want a baguette (so I can beat you with it)? We did bake some fresh ones.
FBL: Not if it was frozen.
Me: (of course) Alright, sorry about that.
FBL: I guess I'll go to a bakery that makes fresh bread.
Me: (good luck with that, lady) If you find one, let me know.
Believe it or not folks, there aren't too many bakeries around here that still bake everything that they sell from scratch, so finding one isn't easy. Trust me, after being in the restaurant biz for years, I got to know which bakeries were actually making bread and cakes, and which ones were getting their dough and mixes from a supplier.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
I am so f-ing tired of strawberries!!!!!
Sure, I know they're tasty, but you work with strawberries for two weeks straight and let me know how much you like them. I especially hate the stuff we coat the strawberries with. It's called "shine glaze" and it's made from ingredients that I can't pronounce. Before we can use it, we have to heat it in the microwave for a few minutes. When we take it out, it's bloody hot and ready to pour. When it hits the fruit, it gels right away. Actually, it gels to anything right away and good luck trying to get that sh*t off. It's a frickin' mess!
Anyway, if you've ever wondered how strawberries stay fresh in a counter for seven days, it's all about the "shine glaze."
Sunday, July 4, 2010
DOD: (leaning up against the counter & lifting his shades to rest on his head) Good day, ladies.
Me: (ewww, it's you!!) Hello sir, how are you today?
DOD: (remember, think Nicholson & Stallone combined) Well, I'm great. It's Father's Day, not that I'm a father, but I could have a few illegitimate children around the world that I don't know about. (looking over at Drey and winking) Don't go tell my wife, little one.
Me: (someone actually married you?? gross!)
Drey: (nothing, just a forced half smile)
DOD: (picking up one of the reduced Black Forest cakes sitting on the table out front) Is this fresh, little one, or is it fresh old, and that's why it has $2.00 off sticker on it?
Drey: Well, sir, it's fresh, but we need to reduce our cakes every few days.
DOD: Is that your fancy way of saying it's old?
Me: (no, you're old, dirty and old) No, sir. We just need to mark items down on certain days.
DOD: Well, that's good for me, not for you. (looking over at Drey) Did you have breakfast?
Me: (wtf does that have to do with 2 bucks off a cake?)
Drey: Yes, I did.
DOD: Did you eat lunch?
Drey: No, sir, it's too early still.
DOD: Well, are you going to have dinner?
Me: (what is this, 20 questions?)
DOD: Well, I think you're too skinny, you should eat some more.
Drey: I eat enough, sir. This it just the way I am.
DOD: I'm not saying you're fat, I'm just saying you should eat a little more.
Me: (WTF? make some sense already)
Drey: (looking totally confused) Oh, OK.
Putting down the cake, DOD walks out of our sight for about 30 seconds. When he reappears, he's holding a loaf of Italian bread that he pulled off of our bread wall.
DOD: (handing the bread to Drey) Could you kindly slice this for me, little one?
Drey: (taking the bread from him) Sure.
Me: (following Drey over to the slicer and whispering) Could you kindly slice this for me, little one?
Drey: (whispering back) Shhh, JB!! Let me slice this bread so we can get rid of him. He's grossing me out.
Me: (nothing, just walking away giggling)
A moment later, Drey walks back over to the counter and hands DOD the sliced loaf of Italian bread.
Drey: Here you go, sir.
DOD: (taking the bread) Thank you for slicing my bread, little one. Tonight, when I'm eating it, I'll be thinking of you.
Me: (practically gasping... oh-my-frickin'-God!!!!!!!!)
Drey: (speechless and looking like she might vomit)
DOD: (winking & smiling) Good day, ladies.
Drey and I said nothing. We just watched DOD lower his shades back over his eyes, make a quick turn on his heel, and then saunter off with the Italian bread in one hand and the Black Forest cake in the other, totally pleased with himself, no doubt.
Friday, June 25, 2010
Drey: Hi, can I help you?
MCG: I need a birthday cake?
Drey: Alright, what kind?
MCG: I just need a birthday cake?
Drey: Yes, but what kind of cake would you like?
MCG: Just a birthday cake.
Me: (some people are so dense) Sir, (walking up to the counter) what size of cake do you need?
Me: Would you like a white cake or a chocolate cake?
Me: (pointing to a quarter slab in the display case) Will this do?
MCG: Yes, OK.
Me: (pulling out the cake from the display case) What would you like written on it?
MCG: "Happy birthday to my beloved son, on this day, on your birthday."
Me: (O... K...) What about his name?
MCG: It's Muhammad.
Me: (handing the cake to Drey so she could finish serving the guy) Alright, she's going to take care of that for you.
MCG: Thank you.
When the guy left with his cake, Drey and I had a good laugh at the rather redundant birthday message that he wanted written on it. There's a first time for everything, I guess, including a guy who comes back 30 minutes later for yet another birthday cake.
MCG: (approaching the counter with a young girl) Hi, I'm back.
Me: Was there a problem with the cake, sir?
MCG: No, I need a another one.
Me: (hmm) Oh?
MCG: (picking up a Boston fruit cake from the service counter out front) I need you to write something on this.
Me: I'm sorry, sir, but I can't write directly on a cake with fruit piled on top.
Young girl: Yeah, they can't write on fruit, Dad.
BCG: Well, they can write on something. A piece of cake or chocolate...
Me: (trying not to laugh) Sir, we can't write on a piece of cake to put on a cake.
Young girl: Yeah, Dad, they can't put cake on a cake.
Me: (ha ha, thanks for your two cents, kid) I can write on a cookie.
MCG: What kind of cookie?
Me: (picking one up and showing it to him) It's a wafer cookie.
MCG: There is not enough room to write on that.
Me: (of course not...) Sir, exactly what do you want me to write on it?
MCG: The same thing as the last cake, but to my daughter. Her name is Amira.
Me: (maybe if I had tiny mouse hands) The best I can do is write "Happy Birthday, Amira" on it.
MCG: OK, that's fine.
Again, I have Drey prepare the cake for him and send him on his way, only to see him return a half hour later with the same daughter and an even younger one.
Me: (looking wide eyed at Drey who turned away giggling)
MCG: We need another cake.
Me: (OK, seriously, how many kids does this guy have born on the same day & why couldn't he just order all of the cakes at once?) Alright, what kind would you like this time?
MCG: I want a cheesecake, but not for a birthday cake. I have another daughter at home and she can't eat anything with gelatin on it.
Me: (then you should have picked another cake) I'm sorry, but the fruit on the cheesecake is covered in gelatin.
MCG: Oh... right. Umm... Can you make me one now without any?
Me: (yeah, let me get my magic wand & I'll make one appear out of thin air for you) Sir, I can't make you a cheesecake right this moment. It's going to take at least 30 minutes.
MCG: OK, how about 45 minutes or an hour?
Me: Sure. What kind of fruit would you like on it?
MCG: Can you put mangos, bananas and cherries?
Me: I can put bananas, but not the other two.
MCG: What about tangerines & strawberries?
Me: Yes, I can do that.
MCG: OK, I will come back.
An hour later, the guy comes back and I present him with the cheesecake. He was so happy, he could not stop praising us.
MCG: It's beautiful. Thank you. You are the best, ladies. Thank you for helping me. Thank you. It looks beautiful. Thank you.
Me: (ha ha, he's too much) My pleasure, sir. Enjoy your day.
Two hours and one hundred bucks later, the guy finally had all of the cakes he needed. I thought it would be nice if his wife or maybe one of his kids came in to buy him a Father's Day cake, but that never happened. Maybe they made him one, I don't know. He certainly deserved a cake for making sure his kids were happy on a day when they should have been showing their appreciation for him.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Clearly, Kourtney & Khloe Kardashian are really close, but that's just way too close for me & Bitter.
What do you say, ladies, would you let your sister help you out in this way?
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Note: You'll want to make sure that there are no young children in the room before you hit play.
So, what did you guys think? What the Gaga??? Leave some feedback.
Until next time,
Friday, April 9, 2010
Me: Good day, sir. How can I help you?
HCG: I want a cake.
Me: OK, what kind of cake?
HCG: A cake.
Me: (and the insanity begins) Yes, but what kind, sir?
HCG: Just a cake to eat.
Me: (as opposed to one you could what, wear?) Sir, we have many different cakes. What kind would you like?
HCG: A cake... something not too sweet, not chocolate, but chocolate on the inside, and not big, but small, but not too small.
Me: (WTF?????????) Um, well, we have 8 inch cakes. Is that a good size for you?
HCG: I just want a half cake.
Me: (why the f**k didn't you say so in the first place??) Sure, we have those. They're actually right there in front of you.
Me: (crazy & blind... fabulous) Sir, just look down in front of you.
HCG: Yeah, I don't want these cakes.
Me: (die, sh*thead) Those are the only half cakes that we have, sir.
HCG: Well, I want (grabbing one of the prepackaged cheesecakes sitting out on the front table & slamming it down on the counter between us) this one.
Me: (OMG, are you f**king kidding me, a**hole??????) Sir, you just ruined a perfectly good cake!
HGC: I want this cake, but only half.
Me: (uh, let me see... NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!) Sir, I can't do that.
HCG: This is what I want.
Me: (calm, JB, calm, calm, calm...) No, sir, I can't do that.
HCG: OK, get your manager.
Me: (it would be my pleasure, jacka**) I'll be right back.
My manager was on his break at the time, so I had to page him. When I saw him making his way over to the bakery, I went to meet up with him so that I could quickly relay the story before he actually got to the counter. After I told my manager what happened, he didn't even say anything to me. He just put on his "you don't want to mess with me" face, walked right up to HCG, and said...
HCG: No, what?
Manager: No, we will not cut this cake in half for you. You broke it, you pay for it.
HCG: But I can't eat a whole cake.
Manager: (ignoring HCG) JB, pack this cake back up the best you can & tape the container shut.
JB: Sure thing.
HCG: I only want half a cake.
Manager: Sir, you purposely destroyed that cake, and you are going to pay for it... all of it. I'm going to walk you to the front cash myself.
JB: (handing the repackaged cake to HCG) Here you go.
Manager: Let's go, sir.
Yeah, and have yourself a Happy Easter, sucker!!
Thursday, March 25, 2010
I returned to the bakery to finish working on the teddy bear cake, but I couldn't concentrate. People put food in grocery carts, and this guy was using one to haul out the trash. EWWWW!! What if he puts the cart back with all of the others without bothering to clean it with some disinfectant spray first? Heck, are the carts ever cleaned at all to begin with?? At that point, I literally had to stop what I was doing and go ask one of the service clerks (the guys who round up the grocery carts outside and bring them back into the store) if the carts ever get sanitized. He had no idea. So, I asked another guy. Again, no idea. The third guy that I asked said that the rain washed the carts when they were outside. Uh, OK, buddy.
Back I went to the bakery with my mind still turning over thoughts about food being put into grocery carts that are never disinfected. Not good, not good at all. Sure, we put fruits and veggies in plastic bags, and most other food items come packaged some way or another (ex. soup in a can, cereal in a box, etc), but the food is still being placed into dirty carts, and traces of whatever is in those carts is getting on those packages, and then being transferred to tables, counters, cupboards or wherever we're putting our groceries when we get home. EWWW!!!!
At that point, I should have stopped thinking about dirty grocery carts and gone to my happy place or something, but my next thought was inevitable. Just how dirty are the carts, really? It's one of those things you want to know, but don't want to know. Know what I mean? Anyway, I figured a little digging around on the Internet would surely turn up something, so I gave Eddy a call on my break and had her do a Google search.
Me: Hey, it's me.
Eddy: Hi, aren't you at work?
Me: Yeah, I'm on my break. I need you to Google something for me.
Eddy: OK, what?
Me: I want to know how dirty grocery carts are.
Eddy: Huh? Where's this coming from all of a sudden?
Me: I'll tell you the whole story later because I only have a few minutes. Can you find out?
Eddy: Yeah, hold on.
Me: OK, cool.
For the next 30 seconds all I heard was Eddy clicking away at her keyboard, and then...
Me: You found something?
Eddy: Yeah, you sure you want to know?
Me: Yup, tell me.
Eddy: Well, it turns out that the University of Arizona conducted a four year study and discovered all kinds of nasty stuff --- urine, fecal matter, saliva, blood from raw meat, E-coli, salmonella, staphylococcus, and....
Eddy: Got that right. Basically, they're worse than public bathrooms.
Me: WHAT??? No way!!
Eddy: Yes. It's because the bathrooms are cleaned daily and the carts aren't.
Me: OMG, that's right. EWW!!!
Eddy: Yeah, forget grocery carts. It's more like gross-ery carts.
Me: Big time gross.
Eddy: Uh huh.
Me: Alright, I have to go. Thanks for checking.
Eddy: Sure. You should definitely blog about this, by the way.
Me: It's gonna freak everyone's freak.
Me: OK, I'll talk to you later.
Eddy: Yeah... and stay away from the carts.
Me: Hahaha, I will.
Monday, March 15, 2010
To download the single, check out the Young Artists for Haiti official site. You can even buy a t-shirt, if you're interested. All proceeds from sales go to Haiti relief. You can also go to iTunes to download the single, if you prefer.
Until next time,
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Dear Itty Bitty Picture Guy,
Bringing in a picture of the item that you wanted from our Holiday flyer was a good idea. Of course, it would have been nice if you had just handed the picture to me, rather than waving it around like a flag in front of my face. Were you practicing for the Olympics opening ceremony or something? It also would have been nice if you had bothered to remember the product name, instead of repeating "I want this" over and over, and then having a tantrum when I asked you what it was called. Last time I checked, you're not a child and I'm not your mother (thank the Lord in Heaven), so don't come to my counter acting like a spoiled brat who could use a good spanking because I don't have time to put up with your sh*t. Next time you come across something that tickles your fancy, bring in the entire page that the item is being featured on, so I can at least figure out what the product is by name, and not by trying to make out what it is from a picture that's no bigger than my thumb. I'm not Sherlock Holmes, you know. I don't carry around a magnifying glass in my pocket.
Dear Panetone Man,
Have you ever worked really hard on something only to watch it be destroyed by some freakin' idiot? Well, that's exactly what happened when you decided to help yourself to a Panetone from the middle of the towering display that my manager and I spent all day building. Had our carefully constructed pyramid come crashing down on top of you, I would have been satisfied knowing that you deserved it for making such a stupid move; however, since you escaped unscathed, I have no choice but to tell you what a total jacka** you are, and how I'd wished that you had been violently attacked by the boxes and buried beneath them. Why the h*ll couldn't you pick a Panetone that was sitting out in front, you F**KING MORON? Did you think that we had an in store game of Jenga going on? LOSER!!!!
Dear Panetone Lady,
You know, when someone buys something the size of my head, eats half of it, and then comes back to the store to tell me that the product wasn't fresh, it's really hard to believe a word that person has to say. So, when you came to my counter with a half eaten Panetone claiming that it was stale, I already knew that you were full of sh*t. I mean, seriously, you had to eat half of it before coming to the conclusion that it wasn't to your liking and that you wanted your money back? The first few bites weren't enough to convince you? As for the lovely (not) story about having eaten a Panetone that was soft & moist when you vacationed in Italy, bull!!!! First of all, the Panetone sold in our store comes from Italy. The words "Made in Italy" are stamped right on the box. Furthermore, as an Italian who's been eating Panetone her whole life, I've never come across one that was moist. They might have a slight spongy texture, but they are still rather dry and difficult to swallow. In fact, I've never seen anyone in my family attempt to eat Panetone without first making some espresso to help wash it down. Seeing as you didn't choke to death eating half of the Panetone that you bought, you obviously knew to prepare some tea or coffee for yourself before having any. So, like I said, you're full of sh*t. I highly recommend an enema before setting foot back in our store.
For more letters, check out:
Letters To My Customers
Letters To My Customers - Part 2
Letters To My Deli Customers
Letters To My Deli Customers - Part 2
Letters To My Bakery Customers
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Teller of tales,
Bringer of hate,
You failed me
Wicked may the pain be in your heart,
O wretched whore,
Eyes sunken and drawn,
Lips stained purple,
Your plan failed
Outside is a lie
Inside your garden,
Life is knocking on Heaven’s door
O wretched child,
Innocent and pure,
Conceived in thoughtless haste,
Mother failed you
You won’t be spared
Death is your only deliverance
From your watery tomb
O wretched lover,
You failed you,
Failed us all
My heart is dead
To the tears you shed
© 2010 JB. All rights reserved.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
I'll be back next week with tantalizing new stories and updates on my so-called life.
Wishing you all a great weekend and thanks for sticking around while I've been M.I.A. Blame the bakery, which we employees now refer to as slavery. Hahaha!!