Thursday, November 26, 2009


I haven't posted a blog in millions of forevers, and there's no other excuse for it apart from me being super lazy. I might try to get back into the swing of things seeing as blogs are popularish again. Who knows.

So I nearly got fired a few months ago.

It was a Saturday and I was doing a close, and after we'd fucked all the Paddy Lasts out of the shop we started our clean up thing. It was all going grand until I got a text from a friend asking if I was going to a party. I said I wasn't, but if he was going that I'd drop by and collect that 200 quid he owed me. He then told me that he had intention of going. I got freaked, clearly, because sure why would someone ask if I was going to a party and then be like "yeah, I hadn't planned on going at all"? I don't know. I knew I wasn't getting my money that night anyway, and that was some bullshit. So anyway, my supervisor saw me texting away, and flipped the lid. "Niall, you can't be having the texting during work" or some shit, and i'm like "Hang on just one second here, you were just in the back for the past half hour chattin' shite to your mate in you native tongue and I said nothing about it...". It kind of went back and forth for a bit and then that was that.
Then when I was washing my hands in the sink, she comes along and dumps a whole load of meat scraps from the panini grill grease catcher into the sink and tells me to clean that. Obviously as I'm in a bad mood about not getting 200 lids later on, I'm going to be a cock about things, so i said something like "You were cleaning the panini grill. I've just cleaned my hands. And I'm not touching any of that seeing as I'm a vegetarian" and walked off to do something else.
Later on we run out of bin bags so I'm sent down to the SuperQuinn in the shopping centre to get some more. I was told to get the cheapest ones going, so I did. I get back and it turns out that the cheapest bin bags that SuperQuinn sell aren't actually the best fitting bin bags for our bins as they're too small. Big surprise there. She shits her shoes and starts screaming at me because they're wrong, and then asks me if I'm normal. She actaully said "Are you normal?". I try to calm the situation by saying to the effect of "I just don't see why you're on my back so much tonight, like what the fuck do you want from me?" and she just walked into the back. I figured it was to crack on with her paperwork or whatever so I just finished off the cleanup and then went in to count my till.
When I got into the office she'd written out a partner file, which is essentially just a report of unsatifactory behaviour or whatever. She had everything in it. The texting thing, the panini grill, the "what the fuck do you want from me?", she even said that it sounded like i was banging the mop into things on purpose when I was cleaning the floor. I signed it anyway and acknowledged that these things had been said/done and I then explained the situation about me being in a bad mood because of my friend owing me 200 euro and then leading me to believe that I'd get it soon and all that, and she made a compromise with me. She said that I was on a weeks probation with her, and that if I didn't get shitty with her during that week, she'd rip the thing up and not show it to the manager. Cool. We go home that night anyway and I have a day off on Sunday. Lovely stuff.
I walk into work on Monday and my manager calls me into the office. He tells me that my supervisor had showed him the partner file on Sunday, and that another manager from another store would be in shortly to conduct an investigation with me about misconduct and disobeying requests and orders from a superior. What a sneaky fucking bitch scumbag. The other manager came in and asked me a few questions, refering to the partner file each time, which was pretty embarrassing seeing as I was super petty that night. I basically had to explain it in much more detail and pretty much every time had to point out that I was half taking the piss. Like the really couldn't actually believe the vegetarian thing, could they? What made it worse was the fact that my manager had to write down the whole investigation, word for word, for Starbucks' records, and that made the whole thing so much slower. Having to repeat some of the ridiculous things that happened was also pretty cringey.
So from there, I had a disciplinary meeting schedualed for the next week with ANOTHER manager, and an assistant manager from another store. In that, they basically read the whole report from the investigation aloud, asked me a few questions about it, explained to me why such a huge deal was made out of it etc. It turned out that because our store had been performing so badly over the past few months, they were looking to cut back on costs, including labour, and were essentially trying to let anyone go for any given reason. Luckily, both people conducting this hearing thing had had dealings with the supervisor in question, and knew that she was balls to the wall mental. They ended up letting me off with a written warning and encouraged me to rat yer wan out the next time she had a mongo fit seeing as they seemed to be pretty keen to get her in the firing line, which was fucking sweet delish. I came back to the store after the meeting feeling absolutely invincible. Fuck yeah.

Wednesday, August 5, 2009


1) This lady who comes in all the time and buys a tea. She asks for a cup of boiling water along with that to make her tea last twice as long. And she asks for a cup of cold water with no ice in it, which I imagine is just for her to drink. But what a bitch, in fairness. Like just buy 2 teas, they're only two bills each so there should really be no problem. Anyway, I'm not sure if I mentioned this before in a previous blog, but she takes books upstairs into the café and spends like 3 hours reading them, only to put it back on the shelf without buying it. What a cheap asshole. We were very much like The Bill about it for ages, but now we've just given up and have resorted to just slagging her off behind her back and having a go at guessing as to why she never wants to be in her house.

2) This girl (not creep territory "girl", like maybe early twenties, without having to put her in the "woman" grouping, because that makes her sound mad old. Ew.) who comes in every now and again who is the most heartbreakingly pretty person in the world. But not in the conventional sense at all. She's super awkward and always fucks up her order or leaves something out of it until I ask her if there's anything else she'd like. I think I saw her in town one night but I was hammered so it might have just been some other girl who looked like her. I wish I wasn't hammered that night, because if it was her, I could have talked to her and made her fall in love with me, because she's more than likely the one. The pain.

3) This man who comes in pretty often who's generally pretty nice and pleasant, but just today I realised how fucking cheeky he actually is. Not in a sort of lovable rogue type of way, more in a "Actually, hang on. The fucking cheek of that..." type of way. He came in earlier and ordered freshly brewed coffee. Heroic stuff in fairness, seeing as it the least demanding drink to make in the And that's what he usually gets. Brewed coffee with space for milk. With brewed coffee, you're entitled to a free refill on it. Usually the general etiquette is that we brew on request, and there's an hour of the coffee hanging around and having the laugh before we throw it. Grand. We'll give you a refill if you ask for it withing the hour, otherwise we're just putting on a brew for free, and that's silly. There's been times where he'd come in and the brew was already on, and had about twenty minutes shelf life left on it, and in those cases if he'd come up hal an hour later asking for a refill, we'd slap another one on, no problem. Today, the cheeky fucker got his coffee, drank it, came back up twenty odd minutes later and asked for another one. Fair enough, yeah, grand, no bother, sound. But as I was about to pour it, he asks if he can have the other coffee in the other brewer. The fucking cheek. Not only was there a full brew of the coffee he just had in a container that was ready to pour, but he didn't even pay for this cup he was about to get. Like, the two different drinks are definately sererate entities as far as I'm concerned. It would be like me going into a shop and seeing a sign saying Cadburys are doing a deal of buy one bar, get another free, and then going up the counter with a Starbar and a Milka or something. If you're getting something for free, don't push your fucking luck, son. The cheek.

Friday, April 17, 2009

People with shitty kids

Are generally shitty parents. I feel bad for other people in the shop when there's a shitty family in, because unlike myself and the rest of the people that work here, their chances of encountering shitty families are much lower. Well I hope so anyway. Public places seem to be the ideal dwelling spot for shitty families, and I'm guessing it's because they want to boast about how bad at being a family they are, because I imagine that's what shit people do. Anyway, this family in particular really got on everybodys tits the other day. Mam and Dad, two boys and two girls. Assholes. They came in and completely re-arranged the soft seating are to cater for themselves, which is one of the worst things people can do, purely because it's a pain in the todger to fix after they leave.

The parents came up to the till and just said the word "coffee" one after another. I wasn't going to bother asking what type or size so I just put it in the till as two venti americanos. If you're in anyway familiar with our sizes and coffees, venti is the biggest, and americanos are more expensive than normal filtered coffee. Granted, it's not even that pricey, and the money is going straight to the man and not me, but it was victory #1. The cunts had the cheek to then ask for "some cookies". Not how many cookies, just some. So I gave them some. I charged for three. Victory #2. Seeing as we're always really quiet, most of the time it'd be just two people working per shift. My supervisor was on a break at the time so I was juggling till and bar, and it was grand. Seeing as the dicks hadn't asked for anything but "coffee" in terms of drinks, that's what they got. Coffee. Right up to the top. No space for milk. Sure they didn't ask. So they got their two coffees and three cookies after they'd paid, seeing as i was doing bar and till, and when they got them after paying they looked real pissed off. I smiled and told them to enjoy their coffees. Victory #3.

"There's no space for milk in these..."
"Oh, sorry about that. I'm just used to making black coffees when a coffee is asked for, you should have just said you'd like space for milk. I'll pour some of those out.
"Oh ok, thanks. And could you give me another cookie? We've got four children with us..."
"Oh, really sorry about that, I only saw three kids with the way the couches were re-arranged."
There's nothing wrong with anything I said, as I said it with a smile on my face, but still, victory #4.
Charging them €2.50 for an extra cookie was victory #5. The cookies are fucking huge by the way, it's not as extortionate as you may imagine.

After the kids had finished their cookies, all hell broke loose. Well, considering we're probably the most chilled out store, a bit of kids acting the arsehole is deemed as all hell breaking loose. One fucking dickhead decided he'd go over to the condiment bar and make the biggest straw in the world. Fair enough, it's actually not that big a deal, but when he belongs to a clan of pricks it's the worst thing in the world. I went over and just started cleaning the condiment bar and took the straws and stirring sticks away so he couldn't have any more fun. #6.

The other brother and one of the sisters decided to have a game of chasing around the shop, all well and good until the girl somehow tricked the dude into going flying into a chair, which really pissed him off and he started running mad fast at her, which led to her screaming and running towards the stairs. And she would have fallen down them too if the dad didn't get up and grab her and tell them to stop. But he did it in a really aggressive manner which made pretty much everybody in the shop 100% more awkward than they/we already were. The other kid was just sitting there with her arms crossed and a grumpy face on her, and that even pissed me off.

They went to use the lift and I told them they couldn't unless they had a pram, buggy or wheelchair. #7.

Fuck that family.

Monday, March 23, 2009

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

People are idiots.

Obviously you might see a pattern forming here. I tend to write about people being idiots a lot, because a lot of the time, people are idiots. To cut a long story (in which I cut my finger open) short, I was working in the busy store last night because I was covering for some dick who just straight up didn't come in to work. Idiot #1 right there. We close to the public at 8pm and have 2 hours to get the store clean, because we've only got 2 people working, and the store is heeeewwwwjjjj. We put the shutters down when everybody leaves, which was about 8.10ish. We leave the shutters open a tiny tiny bit so we can actually get out of the shop when we're done, and then close them from the outside then. So they're like 2ft off the ground at this stage. Grand. You might have the odd dog come in and fuck your shit up every once in a while, but then again, you might not. So at about 9pm I'm in the back cleaning all the equipment for the next day when some wrecked bitch scares the fucking shit out of me by just appearing beside me and asking if she can get a coffee to go. Now keep in mind that I'm in the back of house, and the shutters are down. She saw that the shutters were down and decided to (as good as) crawl under them and then COME AND FUCKING FIND ME IN THE BACK OF THE SHOP. I just looked at her and let out that shrill "NNNOOOOOO!" thing that people do when they don't want to shout, but want to use emphasis. She looked at me, puzzled, as if I was the bad guy for not letting her get a coffee an hour after we closed, and then goes "Why not, are your tills closed or something?". I didn't know what to do, so I did nothing. She left soon after I gave up on her. Idiot #2 right there. But what a fucking creep, to be fair. I don't know what sort of jam people are putting on their bread.

Thursday, February 26, 2009

The Old Geezer

This is Malaysian Dave's pet name for a regular customer we have called Pat. Pat's pushing 83 and wears the same clothes every single day. Because of that, his clothes smell like piss. So bad. So so so bad. He comes in about 3 or 4 times a week about half an hour before we're about to close up. He gets fruit bread and a grande americano. We keep a portion of fruit bread for him in the cupboard because he takes about 10 minutes to choose something else if we don't have any. He's the first person that I've ever convinced that the americano is pronounced ammerikkino rather than americano, if that makes sense (by the way, people coming in and asking for an ammerikkino and having someone on the till going "wtf...", is the funniest thing ever). Yeah so back to Pat smelling like piss. It's so bad. So so so bad. It literally stinks up the whole shop, and it even overpowers the smell of non-corrosive oven cleaner on the panini grill. Shit, it makes oven cleaner actally smell half decent.

We have timers in work to remind us when it's time to do stuff like change the drip coffee and when to plunge the plunger on the french press for coffee tasting and stuff. They've got three functions:
  1. Timer - You set a time for it to count down by the hour/minute buttons, press the start button, and there you go.
  2. Clock - It tells the time. Like a clock.
  3. Count Up - It counts up. So you can count how long something takes.
When we realised that Pat's stench was making people leave, we decided to have a timer set to count up for the next time he came in. The idea was to start counting as soon as he sat down and see how long it'd take for everybody to leave. 7 minutes.

7 minutes.

The smell had already infiltrated most of the store by the time he'd sat down anyway be cause he was at the till, but fucking hell. The first couple to leave, left after 7 seconds of him sitting down. We counted the people in the store (just for facts sake), and there was 23. for our shop and the business that we do, 23 is a pretty full house for us. Pat cleared 23 people out of the store in 7 minutes.

Another thing about the old geezer is that nobody knows what the fuck he's saying. Ever. I kind of do, because I rule, but the full time staff are made up of a Malaysian dude, an Indian dude, a Japanese girl, a Polish girl, and me. Now these four have enough trouble understanding me if I get a bit too excited or giddy, how the fuck are they going to know what a weezy coffin dodger with a thick Dublin accent covered up in a hefty coat of old is saying? There's three part timers who are all Irish, and can probably understand him, but I don't work with them or care about them enough for them to count. He once called me Niall of the nine hostages and then started laughing. I don't know what that means so I'm not sure if it's funny or not, but the Polish girl got really scared when he said it. Yikes.

The thing that pissed Davie off most about him is that Pat wrecks our jax every night he's in without fail. As long as they've just been cleaned. Dave likes to get everything done before we actually close to the public so that our actual close is way faster, and not as rushed or cramped. The toilets are good to be cleaned an hour before we close because we don't get too many people in at that period, and if we do, hardly anyone ever uses the toilet. Except Pat. He spends about 20 minutes in there, doesn't flush, and leaves the place looking like the front door of a church after a wedding, except the confetti is actually snotty tissue paper. I don't know why he doesn't put it into the bog and I don't know how he gets the jax roll broken up into such tiny pieces, but he does it. Every time. The funniest thing is that he never seems to go to the toilet if it hasn't been cleaned already, and Davie goes mad about that. "HOW COME HE NEVER GOES WHEN I'LL HAVE TO CLEAN IT ANYWAY? HE ONLY GOES WHEN IT HAS BEEN DONE SO I HAVE TO CLEAN IT TWICE." Dave's recently been looking for ways to get him barred from the shopping centre, which I think is the funniest thing ever, because he's totally serious.

Realisticly, Pat's going to snuff it real soon and I honestly imagine Davie will be pretty upset about it. We all will.

Monday, February 9, 2009

Robb and Oisin

came into my store the other day.

Yo Robb and Oisin.

Tuesday, January 27, 2009

Fuck yeah

So much good news as of lately. I haven't encountered a dickhead in like 3 weeks, apart from one day where our dishwasher broke and some people were getting a bit pissy about not having mugs or plates, but sure fuck them, it's no big deal.

The manager who I was covering for came back yesterday. He's my old manager and he's the best. I've probably already posted this but fuck it: One time he got his hair cut and I commented on how sharp he looked, and he replied with this really serious tone and Indian accent: "You see Niall when I don't cut my hair, it grows too long and they end up looking like little noodles". I nearly shat myself, and he hadn't got a clue why I was laughing so hard either, ehich made it 17 million times funnier. He always gives me shit about being vegetarian, too. Like he used to hide a Mozzarella Cheese paninis on me before I'd go on a break and shit like that, haha. I once asked him what the deal with the cows being sacred in India and he was like "I couldn't give a shit. I'd eat you if I had the chance." Hahahahaha wtf.

Anyway, he's back and I'm stoked. I asked if I could stay in the Hughes and Hughes store for a while because I'm enjoying the chilling spree I'm on, and he asked if I'd like to come back permanently, so I was like "fuck YEAH", and here I am. Sweet. Today he asked me if I was interested in a supervisor position seeing as one's leaving because she's going to have a baba and the other, my good friend Hoey is going back to being a part time supervisor because of his English and Business course is starting back in March. So here I am, having the buzz. Doing way less work than the busier store, and I'll soon be getting paid a shit tonne more to do so, haha. I'm totally fucked if they see this blog, though. Sketch. I can't wait for when I'm being trained in for supervisor and my manager decides to tell me more stories about his childhood like when him and his two mates used to put on their best clothes and crash weddings so that they could score some free meals, hahahaha. Best dude.

Hopefully this dream doesn't fall through because I'll be heartbroken, innit.

Friday, January 16, 2009

So I'm halfway through

A 3 week stint of working in Starbucks Swords Hughes & Hughes (The quiet store). Since the new store opened up in the Pavillions, this store lost well over half it's business. I'd like to say that it was because all the regulars couldn't get enough of me and followed me down, but I'm pretty certain it has more to do with the new store being right beside the car park. I'm currently in H&H because the manager's away in India so I'm covering shifts, even though I have zero managerial experience whatsoever. I never thought I'd say this about Starbucks, but I fucking LOVE this store so much. We take in about €700 a day AT MOST. That's insanely quiet. Starbucks Swords Pavillions does about €3,500 or more per day (well it had been doing with the Christmas buzz). Because the store is so quiet, we start our pre-closes at like 2pm when they closing shift comes in. We're never busy in the last hour like the other store so we can hoover the carpet and sweep the floor. We have an hour and half to finish up after we close to the public. We never need more than 40 minutes between closing tills, mopping the floor, supervisor paperwork, wasting food etc. It's simply delish. And because of the fact that we're so quiet, the store is just totally zenned out. It rules. There's no dickheads anymore. What do they possibly have to complain about when they don't have to queue, the store is suoer clean and peaceful, the staff are happy to see somebody actually come in, and their drink is made pretty much before they even get their change put back into their hands?! It's truly amazing. I've been reading veggie cookbooks for about 50% of the time spent working over the past couple of days, seeing as we have a bookstore right down a flight of steps! Which brings me onto my next point...
Why oh why hasn't this store closed down, Starbucks Sos?
Well children, Starbucks have a 10 year contract with Hughes & Hughes to stay in business together, a sort of get the caffiends into literature and also give the bookworms a place to chill the beans during their first couple of chapters so they can get into the book.

Swords Hughes & Hughes truly is the mecca of Starbucks stores. Love you.

Monday, January 5, 2009

Suck my dick, work.

I'm off work til Thursday for some ridiculous reason yet again. Throw a text my way and let's get hiiiiiigggghhhh.