The second time I cried at work was not so coincidentally the day I quit. It was one of those mornings where you’re not on your game and it was obvious from the beginning. I was working with a few older women and one of which never really seemed to have liked me. I hadn’t noticed I had gotten a table, and she let me know in quite a sassy manner. But with the whole respect thy elders thing I just shook it off and did my job. We were quite busy that morning and I was cashing out customers because the hostess was off seating people. Once she came back she told me that my table was complaining and wanted to see me.
I immediately went to the table and he said, “Now, I’m going to talk to you like I would talk to me granddaughter, this is when I knew whatever was about to come out of his mouth probably wasn’t a good idea”, but he continued, “If you want to make any money in this business then you need to make sure that people’s drinks are full.”
Now, typically I would respect this complaint under the circumstances of the restaurant being significantly less busy and me just socializing with coworkers, however this was not the case. I just don’t understand how someone thinks they are so important that when the whole establishment you’re in is packed, that you think your drink is going to be full the second you sip down your third OJ. Thanks to this man, he gave me the last straw I needed and I discontinued giving my time to this shoddy place.
August 07, 2016
July 13, 2016
July 13, 2016