Adam Chromý's Blog, page 8

Please fire me. I work at Starbucks and today a lady cussed me out for a straight minute while...

Please fire me. I work at Starbucks and today a lady cussed me out for a straight minute while there was a huge line behind her saying that “we need to be better prepared” because we don’t have fat free half and half. Fat free half and half doesn’t even exist.

Please fire me. I work at a winery tasting room, and today I told a guy at work it’s hella fucked up...

Please fire me. I work at a winery tasting room, and today I told a guy at work it’s hella fucked up that he took a picture of a drunk girl who’s breast fell out of her dress. I ended up getting written up for cursing in the tasting room.

Please fire me. I work at an s&m dungeon. Six months ago the owner/head Mistress of the...

Please fire me. I work at an s&m dungeon.  Six months ago the owner/head Mistress of the dungeon was writing an email and asked us how to spell the word ‘Santa.’ Yesterday she asked us how to spell the word ‘penis.’ She makes six figures.  

Please fire me. My boss constantly invites me to come stay at his beach house every single...

Please fire me. My boss constantly invites me to come stay at his beach house every single weekend. He tells me to “bring the whole family! It’s so nice down there!” Well yes I’m sure it is. He forgets the reason he can enjoy every weekend there is because I run his entire business for him. 7 days per week. Enjoy the beach asshole!

Please fire me. I think we all know working retail sucks, with rude customers and high expectations...

Please fire me.  I think we all know working retail sucks, with rude customers and high expectations when you’re just one person.  But when you’re desperate enough to work at Dollar Tree of all places, you know it’s bad.  (And yes, you “funny” customer, everything IS INDEED a fucking dollar.)

My job description is basically “cashier first, stocker second”.  But apparently no one told me I was also a janitor, a babysitter, a shrink, and the brains behind the manager who can’t think for himself half the time.  Okay fine, I’ll clean up your crap that you’re too lazy to put back in its original spot that’s two feet away from you.  Fine, I’ll watch your kid for a moment if you need to use the restroom.  I’ll listen if you really want to tell me about the shitty day you’ve been having prior to coming to my register.  Okay manager, I’ll handle the customer for a few minutes while you back me up on the register.

However, if you’re going to take all the shit from the party aisle and shove it into the empty cavity on the shelf specifically made for bread, get out of my store.  If your child won’t listen to me after I’ve told them 4 times to stop pulling the balloons out of the corral, you need to put your child on a leash.  If you’re going to blame me for your shitty day and take all your frustration out on me, then I WILL make myself the reason you’re not in control of your own damn life.  And manager, for the love of whatever you believe in, do your fucking job as a manager and not talk to your wife about moving to Florida in *certain time frame*; stop bullshitting on the side-lines and help me on the register when I need it.

Don’t argue with me over something coming out to $1.06 because you didn’t think to bring change with you for tax.  Don’t argue with me when I say we only do exchanges and that I am not authorized to do full refunds.  And especially don’t argue with me when your card declines and you don’t carry cash.

And I swear, if you come into my store, and I have a small line of two people, and you want a new line to open because you woke up late for work and you’re too damn impatient to purchase a single bottle of water, I will gladly step away from my register to hand you an application so you can ring up your own fucking water, you impatient, sweaty, suit-and-tie dickweed.

Please fire me. I teach children to swim at a local health club, and it’s not the children that are...

Please fire me. I teach children to swim at a local health club, and it’s not the children that are the problem, it’s their parents. Honestly, I have 3-10 kids at a time to take care of depending on the class. I do NOT have time to keep a special eye on your precious baby angel. If you want one-on-one lessons, you’re gonna have to pay for them.

Also, when I don’t pass your kid into the next level, don’t yell at me and tell me I’m a bad teacher. I’ll just get one of the other instructors to verify my decision. You won’t win, and you’ll make yourself look like a moron.

Also, don’t ever come up to me and say anything along the lines of “as a mother, I wasn’t comfortable with them doing that” or “as a mother, I think you shouldn’t do that” because it’s always the mothers. Listen lady, I have a list of stuff your child needs to complete to pass. Let me do my job. If you don’t like it, teach your own demon child to swim.

And finally, if you have a child who can’t go to the bathroom themselves, DON’T LEAVE THE POOL ROOM! I can’t just stop my class and take them to the bathroom because you left. And if I have an aid during the class so someone CAN take your kid to the bathroom, don’t you dare yell at them saying it was inappropriate or whatever. You left. Your kid had to go to the bathroom. What were we supposed to do? Idiots.

Please fire me. I am stuck working at a summer camp every damn year because I’m not qualified for...

Please fire me. I am stuck working at a summer camp every damn year because I’m not qualified for anything else that will give me free housing and food. There are so many stories to tell. Mostly about terrible parents… Where to begin…

Often there are moms who spend weeks planning their kids’ trip to camp, like as if they get to pick their own schedule. Lady, no. You drop off the kids. We take care of the kids. You pick up the kids. That’s literally it. You don’t get to decide when they go on a hike and when they go to arts & crafts. We have 200 of these fuckers to look after. They do their stuff in groups and that’s that. I don’t have the time or the authority to let your snowflake wander out on her own.

Every summer there is at least one week-long session where a parent forgets to pick their kid up at the end of the week. How the fuck do you forget your own fucking child you piece of shit. They literally just forget and have no idea who we are or what we’re talking about when we call to tell them they’re two hours late for pick-up.

There are summer weekend programs where parents can camp with their children as a family. These are by far the worst because it attracts helicopter families. There are usually three or four moms who complain “I was never told that the cabin wouldn’t have electricity! The counselor cabin has a porch light so how come ours don’t have outlets!?” Madam, the camp description clearly states cabins are “rustic” and have no electricity. The counselors live here for nearly three months. They get electricity. You live here for two days. You get to shut the fuck up.

Two of the management staff were fucking in the parking lot for several weeks, even when kids were still on camp grounds. Didn’t get fired. Kitchen staff accidentally fed a counselor what they’re highly allergic to TWICE. Didn’t get fired. Counselors brought alcohol on to camp property and consumed it. Didn’t get fired. I’m beginning to think there’s nothing I could do to get myself fired.

Please fire me. I regularly deal with customers looking for a hotel room that we don’t have. When I...

Please fire me. I regularly deal with customers looking for a hotel room that we don’t have. When I tell them we don’t have one, the conversation is as follows:

“Sorry, we’re sold out.”

“…you mean I can’t use my coupon?”

“We’re sold out, sorry, no.”

“Nothing?”

“No.”

“Not anything?”

“No.”

“You can’t find me a single room?”

“No, we don’t have any.”

“There’s nothing?”

“No.”

Meanwhile, there are twenty calls waiting behind this person who can’t comprehend the concept of a full house in a hotel.

Please fire me. I work in garbage disposal. After a few hours of hard work and angry drivers...

Please fire me. I work in garbage disposal. After a few hours of hard work and angry drivers honking like crazy, my co-worker suddenly started to rant how the next street is absolute disgusting and full with asocial people who can not dispose their trash right. I live on that street.

Please fire me. As the cook in a small restaurant, I take dietary requirements very seriously. So...

Please fire me. As the cook in a small restaurant, I take dietary requirements very seriously. So when people ring in and book I ask them on the phone to disclose any allergies/intolerances. Despite doing so, I still manage to get individuals (such as the following one) who show up and demand I cook them something suited to their requirements, even though when they tell me over the phone they had none. This is especially difficult when their said requirements are hard to cook for when i have no appropriate ingredients on hand.
On Saturday a lady who is part of a big group shows up, and literally squeezes her overlarge self INTO my kitchen (???) and tells me she is Coeliac, Lactose free, and has an allergy to garlic and onions, and demands I cook her a meal “just as good as everyone elses.” So I tell her not to eat any of the Share platters I put out for everyone else, and I will make her a suitable meal of her own. 30 minutes later, I personally take this meal out to this woman, to find her eating a SHARE PLATE of zucchini fritters which contain Gluten, Lactose, Garlic and Onions.