My Worst Job……..

I was thinking back the other day to my late twenties and all the pets my husband and I had — dogs, cats and rabbits — lots of little mouths to feed! He decided that although we were both in full time work, I should go and find a second job to help financially. So, I trekked up and down our little town’s high street, my CVs grasped firmly in my hand, and approached every shop along the way. It was depressing. Hardly anyone wanted a CV, a couple glanced over it but then said that they didn’t have anything that was suitable. Over-qualified another store manager said. Lacking in sales skills another criticised! I’d been out nearly all day with no leads at all and was feeling very sorry for myself and depressed about the lack of interest. It wasn’t as if I was incapable of shop work I’d done it through my late teens! I decided that on the way to the bus stop I’d try the remaining stores and then go home & rest my poor blistered feet.

That was my first mistake. I went into a certain fast food chain and the assistant manager actually took and read my CV! He sat me down and gave me an interview there and then, at the end of the interview he offered me a job. That was mistake number two — I was so excited to finally get a result that I didn’t ask what I’d be doing! So, new uniform in hand, I proudly caught the bus home and told my husband I’d found a Saturday and some Sunday work. He was over the moon too. I was to start the following Saturday, so I had plenty of time to prepare myself, I get people shy sometimes you see.

My third mistake was putting the uniform on and going to work that Saturday. I was given the obligatory guided tour of the building, the staff room with grey school lockers and tables, the rubbish bins (I thought it was a little weird!), and finally the remainder of the building, the part where all the orders are taken and where the food is processed. I say processed because you can’t really call it prepared when you’re slapping ingredients into a bun like being on a factory conveyor belt! My final mistake was accepting the cleaning products that were thrust into my hands and I was thrown into the lion pit with no training on a Saturday, the busiest day of the week.

Over the course of that day, I cleaned the front of house continuously. I picked up pickles and lettuce that had been chucked on the floor, wiped up spills from every direction, changed the customer bins…..you get the picture. If I’d have been told I was going to be cleaning I think it would have been better because I would have known roughly what to expect but the carnage created by the Saturday shoppers and their kids was mind blowing! I got one break, where I was allowed to pick my own food and then eat in the staff room — I got half an hour to eat, rest my aching feet and crave a cigarette like never before! My half hour over, I grabbed my cleaning equipment and ventured out into the busy restaurant again. No one had taken over my position whilst I was on my break and the debris of family meal deals, exploding sauce packets and some very dubious looking objects lurked everywhere. Of course, internally I was turning the air blue but externally I had to smile and act as if I was enjoying the job, management liked their staff to look happy and cheerful all the time. I think that’s why the servers often have a glazed expression!

I cleaned the mess up, wondering all the time why people had done some of the things that they had — I’ve never felt an urge to smear ketchup over my furniture at home so why would others do it here? I’ve never seen anything quite like it…..I think a family of monkeys would have been tidier and cleaner! It certainly changed my opinion on how people behave when they’re in certain places. I’m sure that they wouldn’t do this at home! It made me wonder why they thought it was okay to behave like this, just because it wasn’t home? Do they behave differently if they went for a pub lunch for example? I’m sure that they’d get kicked out for smearing food everywhere elsewhere.

By the time I got home, I was physically and mentally exhausted. But, my uniform was a mess and I needed it for the next day for my Sunday shift, so on went the washing machine. I told my husband about my day, he laughed when I described the state of the customer tables, he laughed especially hard when he heard about the pickles and lettuce that were picked out of the food and dumped on the seats or the floor. But, he soon stopped laughing. I told him I wasn’t going back. I didn’t care if we had to eat rabbit or dog food, I was NOT going back! He eventually backed down and agreed that I could quit, so the next morning I called the assistant manager and told him I quit. All he said was to get my uniform washed and returned as soon as possible or they would deduct the cost of it from my 1 day’s worth of wages! I delivered the clean uniform but didn’t get paid. I had to fight to get the measly sum of money I had worked so hard for and I couldn’t believe they wouldn’t pay me. I won that fight too.

I’ve never worked in a chain like that again, I’ve worked in bookshops and pubs but never somewhere like that again. Ordinary people seemed to enter it’s doors and as soon as they had their food they turned into hungry savages. I’m happy to say that from a customer perspective, they’re just picking out the pickle that they asked not to be put in their food in the first place and it was possibly a little revenge for the servers ignoring their request….well, that might be my excuse!

I don’t mind fast food, I don’t mind other customers when I’m one too. But, that job taught me a lot about people and how they change according to their environments. As for the job, I eventually got paid and I can safely say that it was the worst, hardest and bleakest paying job of my life! For all those who work in these fast food chains, they deserve to be recognised and applauded for doing a job that I certainly couldn’t do! But, please, if someone says “no pickle please”, don’t get the person building the burger to put a pickle in……just a thought!