What Is It About People…

That makes them gluttons for the punishment that I am gleefully going to distribute to the assholes tomorrow?

I should be abed currently. In bed. Whatever. Fucking asleep.

I asked one of my managers to get my sales and staffing this evening and to call them in to my boss at shift change tonight, about twenty minutes ago. When I stopped at the store I am running this evening after my Monday meeting I explained this to the employees there and told them I was going to attempt to get something called sleep. You know, the cheap caffeine substitute. I think I am coming down with something and either because of that or maybe because I’ve had about nine hours of sleep since Saturday evening I feel pretty damn wasted. Not good wasted either. Shitty wasted like I want to bite the heads off of small furry animals and spit them on people kind of wasted. That’s bad.

I told them the place had better be burning down for them to call me.

 

An aside before I go on…Since we started taking credit cards about a year and a half ago it has been a nice change. My bank deposits are smaller, which makes security issues easier, the people who pay via credit card normally tip higher averages than those who don’t, and everyone is happy. The waitresses get their tips at the end of the shift from the manager on duty unless they are just counting down the till with the next shift (about three or four nights a week) and then they have to leave them. I or one of my managers count up the credit card tips and stick them in envelopes the next day when we come in, for the waitresses to pick up at their convenience.

Convenience is a funny fucking word in this context.

 

So why is it that I am still awake sitting here eating chocolate bars and thinking about ripping Shrek’s guts out?

Because she fucking called me. Five minutes ago.

Was one of my restaurants burning to the ground?

Nope.

Perhaps I had been robbed?

Not this fine evening.

Had my manager not called and gotten sales?

No, he called, everyone is at work.

Perhaps the police came in and arrested one of my crack-whores?

Nope, all of the third shift is at work.

Shrek wanted her money.

Her credit card tips to be exact. She asked the guy playing my part if she could have them so he lied and told her he would call me and then call her back in five minutes. Twenty minutes later she called me to ask if she could get her five dollars before she left.

Five. Fucking. Dollars.

I get up at 4:30 every morning. I wonder what it would be like for the people on the other end if I just up and decided to call at 4:30 in the morning each and every one of the stupid fuckers that has ever decided that it was OK to call me and wake me up to ask some stupid fucking question that could have waited another eight hours for me to actually arrive at work…

Hasta mañana bitches.

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