Please fire me. I work at an ice cream parlor, that doesn’t close…ever. I work third shift and most...

Please fire me. I work at an ice cream parlor, that doesn’t close…ever. I work third shift and most of the time I’m restocking and cleaning up after the shifts who don’t want to do it themselves because they are usually on their smartphones when not taking customers. However, most shift highlights include when the potheads come in so wasted their eyes are blood red and I can smell the drugs when they exhale; the welfare mothers who drag their wide awake toddlers in at 2 am for ice cream every other night; the indecisive person during a 30+ rush; ringing up a $4 order and having to break a $100 because “it’s all I have”; the drunken after party from the bar down the street; being accused by a staggering drunk of accusing him of theft when I tell him the total for his “every syrup topping you have” shake and they demand I strip search them to prove it as they start pulling their shirt off; being asked by four potheads to make the largest shake we have with that one ice cream that needs a jackhammer to scoop “oh and as thick as possible”; get lectured for not having moose tracks flavor at a completely different branded company; get yelled at for not having sugar free ice cream by the person so heavy they gasp for air and waddle when they walk; get yelled at for offering to make your strawberry shake with chocolate milk; get asked which flavor is my favorite; endure getting railed at for not having soft serve at 3 am when we have to clean the machine and switch flavors each night; get criticized for not knowing how to make a shake just like they had at a little mom and pops ice cream stand in LA; being asked for a free cigarette when I’ve never smoked in my life; have to make 14 of our largest shakes at 4 am because your kids are driving you crazy and are demanding ice cream; get asked what sales we have when there is a sales sign explaining everything three inches from their faces; be called a midget bitch because I’m not allowed to give sale prices for items that aren’t on sale anymore; etc, etc, etc. The number one thing I enjoy the most however, is getting asked all hours of the night if we stop selling ice cream/shakes when they walk past a couple leaving with sundaes and shakes in hand. If the lights are on, doors are unlocked, employees are available and the cabinets are full, what do you think? More often than I like to admit I hear “Is it too late to get ice cream?” “Have you stopped for the night?”, “Are you still selling this late?” in my sleep.

Also, if I ask for you to repeat your order, it’s because I can’t read your mind and you need to talk louder or not mumble. The top of the display cabinets hit me at eye level and they aren’t quiet; I’m short, not a deaf simpleton.