customizing burgers

Everyone talks about how shitty and stupid customers are, why don’t we ever talk about the cool ones? 

-Bilingual children translating for their parents/grandparents like a boss

-The drunk guy you had to deny a sale to and he took it so well and maybe even thanked you for keeping him safe

-The random peeps in a long check out line who stop to tell you you’re doing an amazing job

-The regulars who have your back when someone starts giving you a hard time

-Customers who let you know to keep an eye on someone for shoplifting

-Bros who insist on cleaning up their own mess/spill

-The really upbeat/cheery mom/aunt type customer that just kind of brightens your day a bit

Feel free to add, you guys. You know who they are, let’s give them some love.

I'm gonna take a minute and talk about why I love Gordon Ramsay okay

The man learned to cook as a teenager as a way to escape from problems at home. He’s called cooking his “salvation.”

He left his life behind and went to Paris, arguably one of the toughest culinary environments in the world, because he wanted to learn with the best. The man still speaks fluent French and speaks with such awe about the experiences he got to have studying cuisine in the culinary capital of the world.

When he did have a mental breakdown, HE STOPPED. The man had a goddamn nervous breakdown and immediately quit his high-stress job in a kitchen an took a job as a chef on a yacht, until he was better and could go back to the kitchen. When he works with chefs who he can see are working too hard, he stops, and talks them down, and tries to find ways to help take the pressure off them in the kitchen so they don’t break down like he did.

The man has worked his ass off to get to the top of what he does. He has refused to compromise his standards of quality and taste in his food. When American shows just depict him screaming madly at chefs and restaurant owners, they gloss over Ramsay’s commitment to quality and his genuine belief that customers at all levels of restaurant service deserve nothing less than the best. That doesn’t mean he wants every single burger joint to become a gourmet restaurant, but the customers at that burger joint deserve fresh (not frozen), homemade, good quality food prepared with care and attention. More chefs should be like Chef Ramsay in this regard.

And he has failed. Gordon Ramsay has opened restaurants that have been business failures and he’s had to close them down. He’s also learned from all of his failures. One of his happiest days when when he opened a restaurant called Amaryllis in his hometown. While the running the restaurant, he tried too hard, and he lost sight of one of his core principles of simplicity. The customers didn’t like the food anymore, they stopped coming, and he was forced to close the restaurant. And he learned from his mistakes, and uses what he learned to help himself and other chefs. 

Gordon Ramsay loves his fellow chefs - the chefs that are willing to work hard, and are committed to serving quality food to their customers. Not chefs that are content to reheat frozen food and slop it out to their customers - and then refuse to acknowledge that they quality of their food could be better. 

More chefs should be like Gordon Ramsay, okay? More PEOPLE should be like Gordon Ramsay.

Me: “Do you have your [rewards] card?”

Customer: “It’s not charging me the right price!!!”

Me: “Yeah, I need your rewards card.”

Customer: “But…!”

Me: “I need the card”

Customer: “It’s not the right price!!!”

Me:

Originally posted by astrologyexplained

Justin wasn’t purposely rebellious. He was a rascal in an unassuming, almost charming way. He sometimes got into trouble for things he didn’t even realize were wrong. Like the time he was suspended from catholic school.
Justin loved movies and would often repeat lines from them. When he was around seven years old, he watched a movie called ’‘Good burger’’ which was based on one of the sketches on a nickelodeon network show. In one of the films scenes, a customer at a burger joint is complaining to Ed, a simpleton who works at the restaurant, about the hamburger he ordered. After his rant, the irate customer storms out of the place and yells over his shoulder to Ed, “See you in hell!” Ed responds good-naturedly, “Okay, see you there!” The scene was cute and funny, meant to make you laugh.
One afternoon when Justin rode the bus home from school, the catholic bus driver wished him a good day as she let him off. Justin smiled, waved, and told her, “See you in hell, Bev!” He was suspended the next day. Justin wasn’t trying to be mean, just funny. Unfortunately, the bus driver didn’t appreciate my sons humor.
—  Pattie Mallette, Nowhere But Up.
Dear drive-thru customers,

When an employee asks, “Does your order look correct on the screen?”, you do not say, “I hope it is!” and be serious about it.

You read the shit out of that screen and give a definite “yes” or “no” because if you forget to order something or the employee forgot to put another item in, you do not get mad at us.
That is all your fault because your dumbass is too lazy to thoroughly read a small screen.

Sincerely,
All Drive-Thru Employees

SF!Paps x Reader Fluff

Raffle Winner One-shot
For @artsietango
SFW SF!Paps x Reader smooch/ confession


Papyrus came in every day, like clockwork, and ordered a shot of whiskey and a bottle of barbecue sauce.  

You’d been working at Muffet’s for several months now, and despite the fact that it was monster-run (and that the job had taken you a considerable amount of courage to accept with your arachnophobia), your presence as a human had helped draw a more diverse crowd.  Muffet mixed the drinks with a deft, practiced speed that only someone with three sets of arms could possess, while you carried a platter of drinks from table to table, and numerous little spiders took pastries and burgers to customers from a network of webs in the top of the tavern.  

And every day since you started, Papyrus would walk in and sit at the same seat in the same booth and order the same thing.  

You slide the barbecue sauce to him as you pass his table and wink.  Papyrus usually chuckles and calls you saucy, but this time, he doesn’t even acknowledge you.  He’s got his hood pulled up, and he’s looking down at the table, his usual laid-back grin pulled into a grim line.  The expression startles you enough that you falter in your steps and cause the tray to unbalance, a few drinks sliding along the edge of your platter.  Hurriedly, you correct yourself before they spill and keep going, but you’re distracted as you distribute your orders.

What was wrong with him?

By the time you make it back around to his table, he’s already got two empty shot glasses in front of him, and three spiders are bringing a third glass down the web.  "Hey, Rus.  You didn’t even say hi to me,“ you state lightly, trying to rib him into a response.

His phalanges close around the shot glass, and he shrugs lightly.  His posture’s slouched, with his elbows on the table.  "hey.  sorry,” he mutters, holding up the whiskey to stare unseeingly at it.  

“You’re really pounding them back,” you observe, trying to tread lightly.  Usually, your friend is full of jokes and flirtatious remarks.  You’ve never seen him in a mood this sullen.

He hums, though the sound is nearly lost in the music playing from the jukebox.  "jus’ needed somethin’ to whiskey me away for a bit,“ he murmurs, before taking the shot.  He chases it with a swig of barbecue sauce, straight from the bottle.  You’ve never understood the appeal, and it doesn’t seem to be a monster thing.  But it’s definitely a Rus thing.

“Wanna talk about it?”

He finally turns his head to look at you, his orange eyelights shifting along your body, up to your face.  When his gaze locks with yours, you see resignation flash through his expression, before it hardens.  "actually, yeah, i–“

"Hey!  You!  Can I get my drinks here or what?”

You turn to face a group of humans sitting at the booth across from Papyrus’s.  They look like a rowdy crew to you, but you know you have to keep your smile on your face when you address them if you want to keep them placated.  "I’ll be with you in just a moment,“ you insist in your Professional Voice, which only makes another one of the men sigh.

"We’ve been waiting forever, but those creepy spiders aren’t coming!”

Ugh.  You turn toward Papyrus, but he’s already shaking his head and taking another gulp of his barbecue sauce.  "work’s callin’ you,“ he states the obvious.

He’s right.  If it wasn’t a Friday night, you’d have a better chance of being able to sit and talk to him.  "I’ll be right back,” you promise with a sigh, before turning and going to collect the human group’s order from the bar.  

When you reach the humans, you place your platter on the edge of their table to balance it.  "Okay, so who ordered what?“

One of the men grins.  "Why don'tcha guess?”

You really don’t have time for this.  "I really don’t know.  Did you have the bourbon and coke?“

The group laughs; apparently, you got it wrong.  

One of the man’s buddies leans in.  "What kind of drink do you like, babe?”  His eyes flick up and down your body.  "Sex on the beach?“

Ugh.  Keep your smile on your face; you’re representing the entire establishment when you serve someone.  Muffet taught you that–and if the customers decided to leave, your pay would end up docked.  The spider monster happened to be fiercely competitive, likely because of the bakery that had opened up across the street.  Apparently, Muffet and Grillby had some sort of bad history Underground. 

You laugh without any feeling behind it and shake your head.  "So you must be the one that ordered the Screwdriver,” you state tightly, moving the drink in front of him.  The others laugh, and you take a moment to cut your gaze toward Papyrus’s booth.  He’s staring at you directly, another empty shot glass in front of him, his expression blank and unreadable.  It’s difficult to even see his eyelights within his sockets at this point.  

This is taking too long.

“And you must have the Magic Night,” you guess randomly, sliding one of the cocktails with magic liquor in front of another human.  It crackles and fizzles, swirling with purples and reds.  

“So what’re you doing after work?  I can show you a real magic night,” the human states with a smirk and a brow wag, while his buddies laugh and shout exaggerated ’Oooohhh!’s

Your smile tightens.  "I doubt that,“ you shoot back before you can stop yourself, which wipes the smirk right off his face and causes the others to shove him with more exaggerated shouts.  They’re obviously already drunk.  

"Ouch.  Well, I could at least buy you one,” the man offers, holding up his magic cocktail for emphasis.  

“I’m sorry, but I–”  you glance back toward Papyrus… only to spot him walking out of the bar.  Your heart sinks, and you start unloading the rest of the drinks randomly onto the table.  "I have to go.“

You rush toward the front doors, calling out to the bouncer (a hamster monster in a leather, studded jacket), "I’m taking my break!”

You burst through the doors and spot Papyrus leaning against the building, a lit dog treat between his teeth.  Purple smoke curls around his face, and your steps begin to slow as you approach.  "Rus, I thought you wanted to talk.“  Your voice is slightly shaky.

"ya seemed busy tonight,” he replies with a shrug, holding the dog treat between his index and middle phalanges.  “’sides, it’s nothin’ really.”

Your chest clenches; you hate seeing him like this, so unlike the grinning pun-master you’ve come to befriend… and have a huge crush on.  Tentatively, you reach out and place your hand on his arm, gripping the thick fabric of his jacket.  His eyelights shift down to your fingers, staring at them, and you begin to feel self-conscious.  Usually, he’s all about physical contact and casual touches.  

“It doesn’t look like nothing to me, Rus.”

He flicks ashes on the sidewalk.  Standing outside, this close, you could smell just how heavily the alcohol is clinging to him.  It’s obvious now that he had been drinking before he even came to Muffet’s.  “jus’ somethin’ m’lord said to me today that’s been on my mind.”

You relax slightly.  You’re getting somewhere now.  “What did Sans say?”

Papyrus shrugs the opposite shoulder.  “it’s busy in there.  you should be gettin’ back.”

“No,” you blurt, hard enough that his gaze immediately flies to your face.  You know that your expression has hardened, your grip on his jacket tightening with your resolve.  “They can wait.  I don’t care.”

There’s an instant where his gaze searches yours for something, but you’re not sure what he’s hoping to find.  Then, he rather abruptly snags your waist with his arm and twists around the corner of the building, reversing your positions so that your back’s against the brick and he’s got one arm above your head, supporting his weight as he looms over you.  The alley is dark enough that you can see his orange eyelights clearly glowing in their dark sockets, and you can smell a mixture of alcohol and smoky barbecue permeating from his breath.  

Instantly, your breath catches in your throat.  His arm is still around your waist, trapped between your back and the wall, and now both of your hands are fisted in the front of his jacket.  

“but you care about me?”  

The query catches you by surprise enough that you forgot the last sentence that you had said, instead wondering if he’d somehow picked up on your crush.  Your face flushes hot, but you hold his gaze, taking in the sight of his sardonic smirk.  It wasn’t his usual flirtatious one–no, this one looked off, almost cruel.  Was he mocking your feelings?

Or mocking the possibility?

“Of course I do, Rus,” you evenly reply, lifting your chin ever-so-slightly.  A challenge.  “If something’s bothering you, then it’s bothering me, too.”

That seems to catch him off-guard; the smirk fades around the edges, the sides of his teeth twitching.  “heh, you sure ya wanna know?”

“Papyrus.”  Your hand moves up to cup his cheekbone as you say his full name, and his eyelights seem to glow even brighter.  His face tilts into your palm.  “Just talk to me.  Please.”

“ok.”  He sucks in a breath.  His fingers have wiggled beneath the hem of your shirt to trace idle patterns across your skin.  It’s not the first time he’s done this during your flirtatious moments, but it feels so much more intimate in this moment.  “humans and monsters really don’t mix in the long run, ya’know?”  You blink, sucking in a breath to refute him, but Papyrus shakes your hand off his cheek and continues.  “’specially skeleton monsters.  we’re a buncha bones, like a zombie or some kinda halloween decoration.  so why would a human want to be with a spooky skeleton when they could have their pick of any normal human out there?”  He shrugs, his fingers pressing into your skin, feeling the spinous processes of your spine.  “it jus’ sucks.”

His gaze focuses on yours, and he leans in closer, his face only a few inches from yours.  

“‘specially since there’s a human i’m really attached to.  i could probably get ‘em to jump my bones if i tried hard enough, sure, but… they’re not that kinda person.  they deserve better than that.”

His smirk has completely faded, and you feel your heart bottom-out into your stomach.  You’re looking at him with wide eyes, slowly processing the implications.  Your hand’s even still hovering near his face.  He starts to shake his head slightly and pull back, but you grip onto the front of his jacket again and stop him from moving away.  

“Wait.”

He freezes, his hand at your back stilling.  You’ve never been the one to make the first move, but dammit, you can’t let this opportunity go to waste.  You tug sharply on the front of his jacket and lean away from the wall at the same time, pressing your lips to his teeth.  He’s completely caught off-guard and stumbles back a step (okay, maybe you put a little too much momentum into the kiss when you pushed away from the wall–whoops), but his arm immediately tightens around your waist, pulling you close against his chest.  You try to put all of your reassurances, all of your feelings for him, into that kiss.  

And then you pull away, your face burning and your lips numb from the tingle of his teeth.  He smirks suddenly, and it’s finally a smirk you recognize on his features–teasing and confident.  “hey, ya’know what they say ‘bout assumin’, dont’cha?”

Oh shit.

Your heart drops.  You begin to backpedal.  “Shit, shit, sorry, I–”

Papyrus starts to chuckle, backing you against the wall again.  His forehead touches yours.  “darlin’, you’re adorable when you’re flustered, ya know that?  ‘course i was talkin’ about you.”

You groan.  Your heart’s hammering in your chest.  “Ha, ha.  Why don’t you stop talking and put your money where your mouth is.”

“ah, so you’re jus’ tryin’ to get tips from your best customer.  i see what that kiss was about now.”

Your arm winds around his neck, and you kiss him straight on the smirk.  He holds onto you tighter, forcing your back to arch away from the wall, pulling your body flush with his.  The sweater he always wears is too thick for you to feel his bones, but your fingers play with the ridges of his neck, and you feel his teeth part your lips.  Something slips into your mouth, warm and crackling with electric magic, and you realize it’s his tongue.  It’s not the first time you’ve seen it, but you never knew it would feel that amazing.  Your body feels hot and tingly, and your heart is pounding so forcefully against your sternum that you’re certain he can feel it, too.  

You’re drunk off his kiss–or maybe just the lingering taste of whiskey in his mouth.  You suddenly remember just how drunk he is and pull back.  His mouth immediately moves to your neck, his orange tongue sliding down your skin, sending delightful tingles straight to your chest.  Your fingernails involuntarily scrape his vertebrae, and he groans.  

“Rus.  Rus, wait.  Were you drinking because Sans said something about me not wanting a monster?”

He pauses, his tongue receding so that only his teeth rested against the juncture of your shoulder and neck.  “eh–somethin’ like that.”  He shrugged, but didn’t move away from you.  “not like it isn’t the truth, i jus’…”  He trails off, obviously trying to censor himself despite his filter being partially down from the booze.  

“It’s not true.  What, you think I just want a quickie in the alley?”

“heh, ya mean this isn’t you just throwin’ me a bone?”  He lifts his head enough to smirk again.  

“Nope.  I like you, Rus.  I’d like to give the whole dating thing a try, if that’s something you’d want.”  

Good lord, you’ve never been this direct before–but after his admissions, you feel like it’s necessary to spell it out.  

“ok.  i’ll be your bonefriend,” he agrees, his smirk turning shit-eating.  You shake your head, laughing.  It always comes so easy when you’re around him.  

“Great.  Now that this is settled, wanna come back inside?  My break’s been over for a while now.”

“sure, i could go for another drink or two.”  He finally steps away, letting you step out of the alley on wobbly legs.  Just like that, everything between you both had changed.  It felt different, putting a label on the mutual feelings you shared, as if everyone could see the charge between both of you now.  

Your face is still blood-red when you re-enter Muffet’s, and you feel the eyes of the booth-ful of humans land on you again.  Papyrus instantly slips his arm around your shoulders, narrowing his gaze on them.  You remember the way he had looked through you while they flirted with you, the way he had obviously been thinking about what his brother said earlier, that you would end up with another human.  

And you turn and rock up on the balls of your feet to press a kiss to his cheekbone.  It actually lights up a soft orange, his eyesockets widening at the brazen display of affection.  

“I’m all yours,” you reassure him, before you step out of his possessive hold so that you can continue your shift.  

He chuckles, his usual lazy smirk more tender than usual.  

“darlin’, that’s my line.” 

(* Mobile Imagine Masterlist  )

mei-gwansyi  asked:

Had a customer order a single burger to go. He took it out of the bag, started eating it while walking away from the counter, then turned back and asked me "Don't I get free fries?" with his mouth full of burger. I explained to him that the free fry friday deal is only valid with the coupon on the app. He grunted and turned away again, still stuffing burger into his disgusting face. Fuck customers.

Amy’s Baking Company Sentence Starters

Quotes taken from this video and this set of social posts. Feel free to change pronouns as necessary! Note: Foul Language Warning!

“He was a playboy.”
“Our babies are cats.”
“Meow meow meow meow!”
“This is what God wants me to do.”
“That is one shit burger.”
“The customer is not always right.”
“She’s nuts!”
“I’m going to really hurt somebody if someone sends it back!”
“I told them to leave and not come back.”
“Don’t worry, I told them to fuck off!”
“I will go tell them to fuck off if my husband doesn’t!”
“FUCK YOU SIR!”
“They retaliate against them.”
“I hope it hurts him.”
“I don’t make tips.”
“That’s horrible.”
“Don’t fuck with me.”
“Who the fuck you think you are?”
“I will fuck with you!”
“The majority of the people in this state think we’re going to throw you out.”
“Don’t come back!”
“You go! Fuck you!”
“You’re a little pansy! Give me a break.”
“We will stand strong through the oppression that has been thrown at us.”
“This is a rough and unjust time in our lives.”
“We will not bend to the will of these haters and sinners.”
“I AM NOT STUPID ALL OF YOU ARE.”
“YOU JUST DO NOT KNOW GOOD FOOD.”
“WE DO NOT NEED THIS YOU STUPID PEOPLE.”
“AMERICA IS ABOUT RESELLING, IT’S NOT A BIG DEAL.”
“DO NOT BLAME US BECAUSE YOU CANNOT AFFORD QUALITY.”
“I FORBID YOU FROM SPREADING YOUR HATE ON REDDIT.”
“I AM NOT ALLOWING YOU TO USE MY COMPANY ON YOUR HATE-FILLED PAGE.”
“Bring it on. You are just pussies. Come to Arizona.”
“You are weaker than my wife.”
“My wife is a jewel in the desert.”
“You are just trash.”
“I’m keeping note of all the names here.”
“We will be pursuing action against you legally.”
“You are all just punks.”
“WE ARE NOT FREAKING OUT.”
“I AM NOT A WITCH. I AM GOD’S CHILD.”
“PISS OFF, ALL OF YOU.”
“FUCK ALL OF YOU.”
“BRING IT, WE WILL FIGHT BACK.”
“YOU DON’T KNOW US! WE WILL THRIVE!”
“WE WILL TEACH OUR CHILD WHAT GOD WANTS IN THEIR PATH.”
“I AM WONDER WOMAN.”
“You people are all shit.”
“We are laughing at you. All of you, just fools.”
“God is on our side.”

Please fire me. A customer said it was “atrocious” that our line was so long. I’m sorry you came to our drive through during the busiest time of the day and that the car in front of you had 5 different drinks. I can’t control the world.

Lmao fuck my manager.
Where I work I have 2 managers at all times. One of them works at the back making the burgers and the other works the front, either taking orders or expediting. I clock in, and immediately start taking orders so manager 2 can just focus on expediting.
In the next 10 minutes at least 4 people have come up to me (people who’s orders I haven’t taken, and I haven’t expedited yet at that point) and said that their order was wrong. I apologize and take it to the back to get it fixed/replaced. When the rush was over Manager 1 then blames me for the mistakes, saying that I need to pay more attention to the orders even though she never saw me expediting. (I’m very vocal if I need something that has to be taken out.)
Later on, it was really slow and the one cook has left and the managers went to hang out in their office when a customer ordered a burger. I find my manager (manager 1) and ask her to make me the burger. She then says to me “I already made that. Did you make another mistake?” I had to tell her that a customer had just ordered that burger so that my manger could make the food.
Other instances of this manager, is when someone else takes my food and gives it out, or they give out the wrong order, and when I ask my manager to make it, she will actually refuse to make it because “it’s already up there. You need to pay attention.”
Lmao fuck this manager. It’s also currently Monday and I haven’t seen my week’s schedule she was supposed to have done by Saturday.

  • Customer: Where's my food? It shouldn't be taking this long!
  • What I've Always Wanted to Say: I'm sorry, would you like to come back here to the kitchen and make it? :D