tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56048112675791250362024-03-14T12:04:59.773+00:00*punxA blog about working in the least punx place on the planet.Soshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06943191016502243561noreply@blogger.comBlogger46125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5604811267579125036.post-72142600363515473152009-11-26T21:33:00.002+00:002009-11-26T22:23:25.508+00:00Revival.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.<br /><br />So I nearly got fired a few months ago.<br /><br />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.<br />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.<br />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.<br />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.<br />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.<br />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.Soshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06943191016502243561noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5604811267579125036.post-17391324461060846792009-08-05T02:12:00.000+01:002009-08-05T02:49:41.861+01:00There's1) 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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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 wholewideworldeverandeveramen.com/thetruth.html. 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.Soshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06943191016502243561noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5604811267579125036.post-80022101441627374382009-04-17T19:24:00.002+01:002009-04-17T20:23:51.538+01:00People with shitty kidsAre 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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />"There's no space for milk in these..."<br />"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.<br />"Oh ok, thanks. And could you give me another cookie? We've got four children with us..."<br />"Oh, really sorry about that, I only saw three kids with the way the couches were re-arranged."<br />There's nothing wrong with anything I said, as I said it with a smile on my face, but still, victory #4.<br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />They went to use the lift and I told them they couldn't unless they had a pram, buggy or wheelchair. #7.<br /><br />Fuck that family.Soshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06943191016502243561noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5604811267579125036.post-44953153855864982142009-03-23T01:27:00.000+00:002009-03-23T01:28:08.397+00:00Superquinn sell Starbucks coffeeYo whatup Charlie.Soshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06943191016502243561noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5604811267579125036.post-48259975131061186252009-03-04T20:10:00.002+00:002009-03-04T20:25:26.860+00:00People 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.Soshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06943191016502243561noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5604811267579125036.post-80219040276274136812009-02-26T00:54:00.002+00:002009-02-26T01:27:04.389+00:00The Old GeezerThis 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 amme<span style="font-weight: bold;">rikkin</span>o rather than ameri<span style="font-weight: bold;">can</span>o, 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.<br /><br />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:<br /><ol><li><span style="font-weight: bold;">Timer</span> - You set a time for it to count down by the hour/minute buttons, press the start button, and there you go.<br /></li><li><span style="font-weight: bold;">Clock</span> - It tells the time. Like a clock.<br /></li><li><span style="font-weight: bold;">Count Up</span> - It counts up. So you can count how long something takes.<br /></li></ol> 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.<br /><br />7 minutes.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />Realisticly, Pat's going to snuff it real soon and I honestly imagine Davie will be pretty upset about it. We all will.Soshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06943191016502243561noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5604811267579125036.post-46947214938029533192009-02-09T00:45:00.001+00:002009-02-09T00:45:45.746+00:00Robb and Oisincame into my store the other day.<br /><br />Yo Robb and Oisin.Soshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06943191016502243561noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5604811267579125036.post-34860276161800380372009-01-27T17:12:00.003+00:002009-01-27T17:35:56.918+00:00Fuck yeah<span style="font-size:100%;">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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />Hopefully this dream doesn't fall through because I'll be heartbroken, innit.</span>Soshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06943191016502243561noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5604811267579125036.post-57119894320882486402009-01-16T01:24:00.002+00:002009-01-16T01:38:38.124+00:00So I'm halfway throughA 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...<br />Why oh why hasn't this store closed down, Starbucks Sos?<br />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.<br /><br />Swords Hughes & Hughes truly is the mecca of Starbucks stores. Love you.Soshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06943191016502243561noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5604811267579125036.post-50756076319939515462009-01-05T14:55:00.001+00:002009-01-05T14:56:33.286+00:00Suck 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.Soshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06943191016502243561noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5604811267579125036.post-44371797063342350332008-12-23T22:48:00.003+00:002008-12-26T17:55:16.029+00:00Negative Niall.<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Basically I've been called this ever since the store at the back of Hughes and Hughes in the Pavilions opened up because we had a really happy-go-lucky manager and I'd always try to make her see the flaws in her buzz of bliss. I don't know why I did it really. I guess it just comes down to the simple fact that if something's not right, it needs to be corrected. So whatever. I don't think I'm that negative at all in work. Sure, I'll point out if a customer is a dick, and I'm not as braindead as some of the people who "are only making stupid mistakes because they're enjoying themselves", but fuck, I'm not a negative person. I do have the laugh with customers if they're nice, but I'm all about the mutual respect buzz, so if someone isn't lubing me up with the uplifting and gentle auro I deserve, they're not going to enter a world of white clouds and roses with me. Fair enough.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">I remember one day in particular that I was in an extremely bad mood, and it was because I was working on my dad's 5th death anniversary. I didn't really want to tell my manager about it and ask for the day off because I thought I could weather it and it kind of pisses me off when people take a day off over stuff like that or go home sick when they're clearly not, so I didn't want to do that. I'm not saying that it's bad to take some time off for grievance, but at this stage in my life it's just another day. It just so happens that the date has some meaning behind it. Basically, on that day I kept quiet for my whole shift only talking when I needed to and nodding or shaking my head if that was feasible. I can't really explain, it was just as if I couldn't have been bothered being there and didn't want to give my full dedication or something. There were a good few idiots in that day and it really made my day a lot worse than it was already going and up until a couple of days ago I can safely say that it was the only "bad" day I've had.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Yesterday got on my tits a bit. Nobody's doing any of the simple things that take 2 seconds to do and generally make things 100 times easier, like rinsing the milk jugs after they're used, or changing the brewed coffee once the timer goes off, or bringing the shot glasses that are too hot to hold into the back so they can be cleaned and cooled so that when the replacement shot glasses get too hot, there's other ones there, or getting more take away cups when it's quiet and it looks like they might run out if there's another busy little burst of customers. Stuff like that. Stuff that annoys me anyway because I have to do it ALL THE TIME, but it's annoying me a shitload more because we're so fucking busy in the run up to Christmas. One of the lads who was looking like he was going to get the supervisor position ahead of me (before nobody got it because of labour cutbacks) is especially destroying my will to live, one tiny bit after another. He has this whole public humiliation buzz that's both failing hard and completely ridiculous. The lad's a bit of a flirt with ANY GIRL THAT HE TALKS TO. Anyone. You could be Rocky from "Mask" and as long as you have a gap between your legs he'll try it on. What he doesn't like is anyone else ever having the buzz with another customer when he isn't. I was chatting away to a couple of middle aged women just because they were pretty sound and bantering away and he just cuts in and goes "It's a shame he's a gayer ladies, isn't it?" and walks off. WTF. I kind of scanned the place to gather myself to see if I was in fact gay, realised I wasn't, and then I noticed one of the women looking at me with the "how the fuck does that guy work here?" eyes, and i met her with the "I hope his house burns down on Christmas day and all of his family is wiped out along with everybody else that shares his blood" eyes. He also does this to everybody, and that's only the tip of the iceberg but sure if I was to go into it I wouldn't have fingertips left. It really does blow that it's so hard to fire people from Starbucks because this moogy should have been out on his ear a long time ago.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">So with all this, and the store being busy, I've been a whopper grump. Especially seeing as Christmas is a time for family and "reflecting on your life". My family has been shattered for the past 5 years with repressed grief from myself and my brother caused by way too much grief being put on the table from my mam, and my youngest brother not really being old enough at the time to have understood what was going on, so he's just there, getting caught up in the middle of all of us not getting along with each other. As for reflecting on my life, I'm working a really badly paid job and I've no idea what I want to do in college next year. My boss kind of noticed me being a bit shitty over the past few days, so he decided to give me a week off. That was really nice. Thumbs up. Merry Christmas.</span></span>Soshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06943191016502243561noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5604811267579125036.post-59831275662674516462008-12-04T19:39:00.002+00:002008-12-04T19:42:58.721+00:00Babyccino Update<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">I sold/made </span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >THREE BABYCCINOS</span><span style="font-family:verdana;"> the other day. All in the space of half an hour. It blew my fucking mind. High fives were had. I haven't sold or made one since. </span></span>Soshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06943191016502243561noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5604811267579125036.post-5939488337617729592008-11-24T23:36:00.002+00:002008-11-25T00:18:54.770+00:00I did a 12 hour shift today......and now I feel like dying. I woke up at 6am today to get showered and changed and get to the dart station so I could get to the other dart station so I get my bus to the bus stop outside the Pavilions and go to work. I woke my mam up when I was going downstairs to get breakfast so she decided to give me a lift to Sutton station, which got rid of waiting around for the dart. Thanks mam. I was working in the Hughes and Hughes store from 8 - 12 and I had to do pretty much the whole opening myself because my supervisor was late, so she literally only got in in time to get the tills sorted and run start of day etc. So I did all the important stuff. I felt class.<br /><br />At 12 I had to go down to Swords Pavilions v2.0 and work until 5, but some new lad (WHO NEVER FUCKING RINSES THE JUGS WHEN HE'S DONE WITH THEM, BY THE WAY) started begging and pissing and moaning at me to cover his shift which was ending at 8pm, because he had to go TO HIS OLD JOBS CHRISTMAS PARTY. WHAT THE FUCK. And I said yes. WHAT THE FUCK. I really am too nice. So i only got a poxy 15 minute break, a half hour one later on, and then only another 15. I def thought I deserved a second half hour break what with how much I busted my nut for them today.<br /><br />There wasn't that many fresh douches in today, and the minor ones that did come in didn't phase me at all because I was feeling so invincible from my one person opening skillz, and I was tote stoked on working with Rodolfo again, because he's got the best voice ever. He's from Italy, he's 29, and he says all the most nonsensical things in the best way possible, such as:<br />"Would you like some teabags in your teabags?"<br />"You want some fruit bread with the butter?"<br />"We don't have the hot chocolate but we can give you the hot chocolate instead."<br />"That's what I like about this job you know man..." (And then launch into 5 minutes worth of mumbling and words that don't make any sense together)<br />"Ah man she's so sexy man!" (When said customer had literally JUST walked away after getting her drink, but still completely in earshot)<br />"What I like about Italy is that there's no rules man, because when my auntie first went to Naples, she saw a man shit in the street."<br /><br />Pretty much everything that lad says to me blows my fucking mind.<br />But I'm as fucking tired as an arse after a healthy dose of the scuts.Soshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06943191016502243561noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5604811267579125036.post-65717318857355365262008-11-24T23:29:00.003+00:002008-11-24T23:37:07.918+00:00BABYCCINO!<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Babyccino's are gas. Essentially they're just small cups of steamed milk, but they're not too hot or anything because usually they're given to babies/toddlers. The name though, fuck. HOW GOOD IS THAT?! I was working in Malahide over the weekend and I had the pleasure of working with Big Fago, Chris' older brother. We were having a discussion about how we've pretty much always only been on bar when a babyccino was ordered, and had never been on till for it, so it'd be a super rare occassion to sell a babyccino. Anyway, about 20 minutes after that, Steve was on till and someone ordered a babycinno! Steve just looked at me, grinned a little,and shouted "BABYCCINO!" and then we high-5'd and it was actually the best thing ever. Then it happened again the next day we were working with each other and now it's become a sort of game, I think. I was working in Swords today and Rodolfo sold a babyccino so I had to high-5 him. Savage.</span></span>Soshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06943191016502243561noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5604811267579125036.post-53791093149147300312008-11-16T00:23:00.000+00:002008-11-16T00:24:07.594+00:00I kissed a regular last night.<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Fuck yeah.</span></span>Soshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06943191016502243561noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5604811267579125036.post-22182871147643530862008-11-10T20:02:00.003+00:002008-11-10T20:38:21.537+00:00I really like washing up these days<span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;" >It's a really nice getaway from the dickhead customers and just general business (as in it being busy, not a company type business) of the store, and I'm really fast at it so I get to spend loads of time just arsing around in the back. The new stores sanitizer isn't as big or powerful as the one in Malahide that made me hate washing up, so the mugs and plates don't come out that hot anymore which is sweet. I also found this:<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;" ><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhio3g2F2kstxKmWBAPI9AflbyCz-nMBIcI-iuFolZd2gftWiGPt1Gw4l8_MfLg0GiY5Hpji-NDWfK-UA9AMOuTVruk6iAY9fY4C0ctI7cEUIb_INwkxPvsm4T9-_WVO59JiLgQTXFDFY4i/s1600-h/Image010.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhio3g2F2kstxKmWBAPI9AflbyCz-nMBIcI-iuFolZd2gftWiGPt1Gw4l8_MfLg0GiY5Hpji-NDWfK-UA9AMOuTVruk6iAY9fY4C0ctI7cEUIb_INwkxPvsm4T9-_WVO59JiLgQTXFDFY4i/s320/Image010.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267129989263739490" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">A FUCKING DUD MUG!</span><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;" ><br />I don't know how the fuck that actually happened and went unnoticed, but it ruled so I took it home. I also spent pretty much most of my day looking for other mugs like that. None. And if you don't believe me about the logo being backwards, just look at the posters behind it. It's not a mirrored image, someone just fucked up. I've been in a great mood pretty much non stop since I've found it, too! Suck it, customers.</span><br /></div></div>Soshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06943191016502243561noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5604811267579125036.post-61229329515578927912008-10-29T16:24:00.000+00:002008-10-29T17:04:42.592+00:00STARBUCKS SWORDS v2.0<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Totally forgot to blog about this. This is also a very monumental entry. It will have PICTURES!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Right, so on the 4th of this month we opened a second store. I took a good few photos on my phone because I was like "Hey! This store sure will rule! Guy!" etc. Anyway, it's like 4 times the size of the one I was working in above Hughes & Hughes and it's all new and shit.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Picture time.</span><br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center; font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" >NEW COFFEE MACHINES!</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><a style="font-family: verdana;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKY6ecDAWPVfU_9fJ5gczZgMwMCYneImRzjB4nfhKJKucQ_27vSFIE6kBBnhk3kxrqWWn7djPkTjy_RkEUEkZXrkJ7u0W8T4IEVg7P9e_uLcNpLxPMSN_e6WJruU7lW2m289oorDDPYxnc/s1600-h/Image020.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKY6ecDAWPVfU_9fJ5gczZgMwMCYneImRzjB4nfhKJKucQ_27vSFIE6kBBnhk3kxrqWWn7djPkTjy_RkEUEkZXrkJ7u0W8T4IEVg7P9e_uLcNpLxPMSN_e6WJruU7lW2m289oorDDPYxnc/s400/Image020.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262614382559782386" border="0" /></a><a style="font-family: verdana;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigp-vSP8Y2Q0ecOaUVTgEl2qyCe5r3nd52o9n0QJyBWbFAdoIpkRSg06MGy1zD3VVr40Amg-QJcow3Oc-MNwZDo8aakpFn1XaPXcolLOATp2rvGDQjf44bWVfoHPeFDZYA1M3_2wtDGCns/s1600-h/Image021.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigp-vSP8Y2Q0ecOaUVTgEl2qyCe5r3nd52o9n0QJyBWbFAdoIpkRSg06MGy1zD3VVr40Amg-QJcow3Oc-MNwZDo8aakpFn1XaPXcolLOATp2rvGDQjf44bWVfoHPeFDZYA1M3_2wtDGCns/s320/Image021.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262614869009450930" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family: verdana;">As you can see, there's no manual / auto buttons for the steaming wand (the bit that makes the milk hot), there's A FUCKING LEVER!!! You pull it down halfway for manual heating, and all the way for auto. Auto means it stops at 70 degrees celsius so it doesn't burn the tongue off you. It's like I'm flying a fucking plane and it rules. There's also a screen on the machine to tell you how hot the milk / wand is, so we don't have to use the thermometers anymore! WAHEY! And beside the screen we've got a + and - button for extra hot drinks, or not so hot drinks! There's also buttons to pour 1, 2, 3, or 4 shots of esspresso. The 1 and 3 don't work yet but it's still class. Also, the steaming wands don't have to be cleaned at night because they're covered in a plastic yoke that stops milk residue scum from building up! They've really thought of it all!</span><br /><br /><a style="font-family: verdana;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOZdUFwg35LXdonjkBJ6uwyYVvryM392M_oT-i7DMGCweIP7ygCmLJVf9SB2aUC9xwLl-Kf-eUeRHyMEHA9LuEsR6FcZDSjLSNR5uDc2PRyrh1eh8XhsiNOZ5g7aEX2Uh9grC4gQGYRlqh/s1600-h/Image022.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOZdUFwg35LXdonjkBJ6uwyYVvryM392M_oT-i7DMGCweIP7ygCmLJVf9SB2aUC9xwLl-Kf-eUeRHyMEHA9LuEsR6FcZDSjLSNR5uDc2PRyrh1eh8XhsiNOZ5g7aEX2Uh9grC4gQGYRlqh/s320/Image022.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262616708411103634" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family: verdana;">We've also got new coffee bean hoppers. Check it out. It's like a big fucking BOWL! And then there's a small little column in it for decaf, but it's only little because we only sell a little amount of decaf! Brillo!!!! Here we have our decaf buttons and our Halfcaf buttons. Then we have our power, stop, continue, clear, rinse, [something I can't remember], ristretto, and long buttons. We can't use the ristretto or long ones until every Starbucks in Ireland has these machines though! Worst buzz!</span><br /><br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center; font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" >NEW SEATS!</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><br /></span></div><span style="font-size:85%;"><a style="font-family: verdana;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIJIDC-82Jyl0c6zi9efuGVinc3ShSjPpihiCSao0WWHb6rdkdz_X20MajHzVxx2WRsYrJ1j3sfXVvS4Tdm8Q6TNooxSs-kO3OFZEKZ4W02PQ_YzqTHEaK_8O7_n8MOmCiOhXyPd4b5OEX/s1600-h/Image023.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIJIDC-82Jyl0c6zi9efuGVinc3ShSjPpihiCSao0WWHb6rdkdz_X20MajHzVxx2WRsYrJ1j3sfXVvS4Tdm8Q6TNooxSs-kO3OFZEKZ4W02PQ_YzqTHEaK_8O7_n8MOmCiOhXyPd4b5OEX/s320/Image023.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262618069572946242" border="0" /></a><br /><a style="font-family: verdana;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivLBinCQ8SMXUUnHwJe4gAyHPJi6fG_R15RFTZuNkN_EC91Ehfl5hKH_IF2HmNq50Bu38zZSRFEMsJH_U7nD2FebsSNx0FqlZMBszPNsfmPYGvG1dLwpg9l3Mtn3sJ9Bk9m64Wo5QHKbjD/s1600-h/Image024.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivLBinCQ8SMXUUnHwJe4gAyHPJi6fG_R15RFTZuNkN_EC91Ehfl5hKH_IF2HmNq50Bu38zZSRFEMsJH_U7nD2FebsSNx0FqlZMBszPNsfmPYGvG1dLwpg9l3Mtn3sJ9Bk9m64Wo5QHKbjD/s320/Image024.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262618365715041650" border="0" /></a><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a style="font-family: verdana;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr8QQ1jxjk7qTvbyg8h0NzqlYpk3nLSi0SZ_2xJni0liFy3tJilq0vt358DgfkH6uLiIYICZ4BfgZA883PDay4wggzFBIg1y7Te8T-SUfXUFXtEaA8SJOVOE6ABoU-YhS8eRZWhhzacH_p/s1600-h/Image025.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr8QQ1jxjk7qTvbyg8h0NzqlYpk3nLSi0SZ_2xJni0liFy3tJilq0vt358DgfkH6uLiIYICZ4BfgZA883PDay4wggzFBIg1y7Te8T-SUfXUFXtEaA8SJOVOE6ABoU-YhS8eRZWhhzacH_p/s320/Image025.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262618611131213106" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">So we've got 50s style diner booths and we've also got seats resting against the back of the condiment bar! FUCK!!!</span></span><br /></div><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a style="font-family: verdana;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPHXKRElySfELKZIlcBZ4d-69UaFG9OKecNeD04wYBCuaNVYb-GsjoXpXZL633Wg-kpBoWFf_htdQ4JuQqouSWqVKvEErjc6b5DopZ4SMmB0Wr4SpPSsRijQmzOpdd1CaMO6cTjPrPmC8f/s1600-h/Image030.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPHXKRElySfELKZIlcBZ4d-69UaFG9OKecNeD04wYBCuaNVYb-GsjoXpXZL633Wg-kpBoWFf_htdQ4JuQqouSWqVKvEErjc6b5DopZ4SMmB0Wr4SpPSsRijQmzOpdd1CaMO6cTjPrPmC8f/s320/Image030.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262619323932897090" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;" >And a shit tonne of couchy ones, too! The floorplan for this is ridiculous, by the way.</span><br /></div><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><div style="text-align: center; font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" >FULL SHELVES OF STOCK!</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKjKIyuLlOvcLEjWyF5ps5csc9OjxpGx4-fFK1caxJJ8QpmEV0JsY-2d9ZrMjek7hmVsdZrSyIssgjso809qvjx_B7L1XW19L0Zx0thTc7LJVqo5q_sqlHLCk5z-rRERFbPqBJHvKhgkkb/s1600-h/Image033.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKjKIyuLlOvcLEjWyF5ps5csc9OjxpGx4-fFK1caxJJ8QpmEV0JsY-2d9ZrMjek7hmVsdZrSyIssgjso809qvjx_B7L1XW19L0Zx0thTc7LJVqo5q_sqlHLCk5z-rRERFbPqBJHvKhgkkb/s320/Image033.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262620515459387602" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWLldCoZ7IHSu6mfUTss9xCds-gKmCpI-c0XwOD8CaciaNs3Tktgo6aybvIYKsIyGh7cv10-Z1YZyYOXdB4DGm6a938kO6B7pil45D6v_S9oqGjyHS40w2uT5qt4-kGPwiP_6kkPaigNIt/s1600-h/Image031.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWLldCoZ7IHSu6mfUTss9xCds-gKmCpI-c0XwOD8CaciaNs3Tktgo6aybvIYKsIyGh7cv10-Z1YZyYOXdB4DGm6a938kO6B7pil45D6v_S9oqGjyHS40w2uT5qt4-kGPwiP_6kkPaigNIt/s320/Image031.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262620781839310274" border="0" /></a>Delish. I haven't seen shelves like that since July or some shit. Class.<br /></span></div><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;" >BONUS ROUND!</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><br /><a style="font-family: verdana;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvcrjXAQkzPVqXJsR7eCoRnI3KSJmY85hFwO31eahyW_yvBrxElNkOOHeKCJs3igxAdz2JXogE5ZkiXDy6GBkDHyL3j6Kn7Y3a3doENH0m5FJdwVyNnxJXBCQNZ7R1KXrObADMXvNgEQbg/s1600-h/Image027.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvcrjXAQkzPVqXJsR7eCoRnI3KSJmY85hFwO31eahyW_yvBrxElNkOOHeKCJs3igxAdz2JXogE5ZkiXDy6GBkDHyL3j6Kn7Y3a3doENH0m5FJdwVyNnxJXBCQNZ7R1KXrObADMXvNgEQbg/s320/Image027.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262621508900229890" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family: verdana;">This lad's probly gonna be my supervisor. Fuck my life.</span><br /><br /><a style="font-family: verdana;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrCS-u8syYArfwVkHd2N5U9lVnhKiZE9dHMeijnPVBZJdpLOYZBohnnP9V7JIDm3ERQgZOQd56frCltViroIZrOGkINrbu00VYVzOD7BibEm9cnV5PmAeE1gdOnaOJN6_vwWygs3yFcTGl/s1600-h/Image029.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrCS-u8syYArfwVkHd2N5U9lVnhKiZE9dHMeijnPVBZJdpLOYZBohnnP9V7JIDm3ERQgZOQd56frCltViroIZrOGkINrbu00VYVzOD7BibEm9cnV5PmAeE1gdOnaOJN6_vwWygs3yFcTGl/s320/Image029.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262621511969792002" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family: verdana;">You're having a LOL and wrecking my buzz.</span><br /><br /><a style="font-family: verdana;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0SLvohaDuofL52ghpAPFXfbhx91KSOIJUD5AWC3HRQonfGjEU4sR5KwpUygag2iwlNtB6rud1K4e9SQNhSEzjlKSky3sFXBzs1AwLK2OmgbOQ8jpysMbGNoSuQi4xl1HVUKkRRxMcSi1W/s1600-h/Image034.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0SLvohaDuofL52ghpAPFXfbhx91KSOIJUD5AWC3HRQonfGjEU4sR5KwpUygag2iwlNtB6rud1K4e9SQNhSEzjlKSky3sFXBzs1AwLK2OmgbOQ8jpysMbGNoSuQi4xl1HVUKkRRxMcSi1W/s320/Image034.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262621516489255010" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family: verdana;">And here's the most metal picture you've ever seen in your life. Mark Anthony Coleman and Conor Miggan. Mig actually broke through that roof. For real.</span></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">I'll post my feelings on the new store soon.</span></span><br /><br /></div>Soshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06943191016502243561noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5604811267579125036.post-58173123348855982772008-10-29T15:57:00.000+00:002008-10-29T16:11:19.603+00:00Thursday<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I was in Fibbers for ThreeEuroThrashMetalThursday a couple of days ago. Thursday to be precise. I ran into Rita, who I'd worked with since the very start of my "career" (LOL) in Starbucks, and we had the buzz. I'm usually out with the fibbers flannel fleet every Thursday and work give me Fridays off which rules a good bit. But anyway, Rita called me out on not hanging around with her anymore ever since I moved to the Swords branch(es. I never updated about the new store. I will very soon.) When I first moved, I used to come back and visit Malahide a good bit, just to have the buzz, but I guess I stopped coming when a fair deal of the staff left, so Rita's pretty much on her own out there with the exception of a few originals, but like I can count 6 full timers that have left there to go to other places, and without sounding harsh, she's left with the duds. It must be the worst buzz ever working with cuntomers from a very upper middle class area such as Malahide, and then having to work with staff who suck that much, too. There is a few decent heads still out there, but there's a good few dicks, and then new people do get on your nerves. No matter how hard you try to not let them annoy you, they do. It blows remembering that you were once the very person that's annoying the tits off you, but that's just how it is. Chris' older brother's back out there now, and he rules, but between the two of them out there, I'd say they're having the worst time in the world. I'll def hang out with Rita over these holidays so she doesn't think I'm a total jerk.</span></span>Soshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06943191016502243561noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5604811267579125036.post-42996594586798965462008-10-29T01:35:00.000+00:002008-10-29T01:37:04.399+00:00At the moment<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I'm 2 days into 9 days of paid holidays. I was chancing my arm when I was booking them because I thought they'd have all been called up, seeing as we can't take them after the 15th of November. But nobody had booked any. But fuck them, I guess.</span></span>Soshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06943191016502243561noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5604811267579125036.post-57124654116233274972008-10-20T01:03:00.000+01:002008-10-20T01:30:32.664+01:00The toilet bitch<span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;" >I totally forgot about this one, until the last post just there. About a month ago our toilet went bust. I wasn't in when it happened (I was doing a closing shift and it happened during the morning), but I was working during the busy period of the day and bore the brunt of it something more than most others, as I was on till most of the time. Straight away there was an out of order sign put up and maintenance were called, so we did everything by the book. As everybody knows, the general public are the most ridiculously idiotic people on the face of the planet. People going to the toilet, seeing the sign, turning back, queuing up to order a drink, and then going "Sorry, is the toilet out of order?".........<br />Yes.<br />What else can be said? I hadn't discovered the zen powers of just being like "ah yeah" yet, so there was not much I could do but reply with "...Yes." It happened about 5 or 6 times, and by the third time I'd ended up saying "Unfortunately yes, but maintenance have been called and it should be fixed by the end of the day. The nearest toilets in the shopping centre are........." etc. Anyway, some absolute knobber came in and asked me if the toilets were out of order, AFTER SEEING THE OUT OF ORDER SIGN, I'LL HAVE YOU KNOW. I went ahead my little piece I'd put together and pretty much half way though me saying the word maintenance, she says "You know that's illegal, right?". Now, there is some legislation of sorts that makes it manditory for all cafés / restaurants / bars etc to have toilets, and we do. It just wasn't working. I'm sure technically we were breaking some sort of pathetic twig of a law, which makes her a pathetic twig of a person for pointing it out, but like what could I say to that?<br />"You know that's illegal, right?"<br /></span><ol style="font-family: verdana;"><li><span style="font-size:85%;">Actually, you're absolutely right! Here's a phone to call the gaurds. Go mad.</span></li><li><span style="font-size:85%;">Ah sure I'm just about to have my plumbing apprenticeship cert posted out to me in a few minutes. Giz a sec and I'll fix the toilets.</span></li><li><span style="font-size:85%;">No, it's not out of order, that sign is there just so only people who <span style="font-style: italic;">really</span> need to go can use it!</span></li><li><span style="font-size:85%;">IS IT?! LENKA! C'MERE LENKA! Here, this woman reckon's the toilet's out of order. What's going on?</span></li></ol><span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;" >Like I seriously think that this woman thought I could actually respond to that. Or that I was at fault, like I had broken the jax. Or that I could fix it. Or that I'd make sure it was fixed faster because it was against the law. I just looked at her, not knowing what to say, slightly agitated at it all, and I reckon she kind of picked up on it seeing as she didn't buy a drink and just went "forget about it". Meh. i didn't even get to tell her where the closet jax in the centre was. I hope she went home and told her husband that she gave some barista on minimum wage shit over a broken toilet, because most dudes realise that pretty much all women are balls to the wall mental and would have stood up for me in an act of solidarity. He probably would have divorced her as well, to be honest. What a cunt.</span>Soshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06943191016502243561noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5604811267579125036.post-59476114996098844442008-10-20T00:59:00.000+01:002008-10-20T01:02:18.938+01:00Also, the other day...A member off staff left a clump of bloodied tissue in the staff jax and didn't flush. I think it was a makeshift sanitary towel. WHAT THE FUCK. People need to start getting sound about gross stuff. Fuck.Soshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06943191016502243561noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5604811267579125036.post-34532074343704491432008-10-20T00:16:00.000+01:002008-10-20T00:32:50.238+01:00Ah yeah...<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Sometimes in life you've just gotta be like "ah yeah".</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Imagine your life being a pie chart. A big circly fucker, divided up into... em... divisions. Slices. Ah, slices because it's a pie. Oh. Anyway, my life has one big fucker of a slice in it nowadays, and it's called "ah yeah". It's def over 50% of the pie, but I think it might even be somewhere between 80 -99%. And 1% for everything else. I've found myself saying "ah yeah" LOADS recently, because it had become such a great method of not letting things get to you in Starbucks. But it can also deal with pretty much any situation you find yourself in, I've noticed. When I'm on thil and people say "Hi, can I've a tall latte to go?" - "Ah yeah". When someone asks me something about the food which I don't know about (which happens really rarely because I'm class at my job and I know pretty much everything) - "Ah yeah". But yeah, dealing with shitty customers has become a lot more fun now, what with the AYF (The Ah Yeah Factor). Some slut came up to the till the other day and ordered a medium skinnyccino. I FUCKING HATE WHEN PEOPLE SAY SKINNYCCINO. It's a non fat cappuccino, it's not that hard to say, and you don't sound like a johnnyer when you say it. Unless you ask for a non fat hot chocolate or some shit. But yeah, I was on bar so I made the drink. Said my "Now miss, grande non fat cappuccino, enjoy" bit and she was like "Eh, I asked for a medium skinnyccino..." like I was a fucking moron for getting her drink wrong. For people not following, I made it right, I just called it like it should be called. Like the way it says on the menu. The correct way. So I go "Yeah, grande non fat cappuccino, there you are" and she was like "But I </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-family: verdana;">ASKED</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> for a skinnyccino...". Absolutely shocked at this stage, I am. I've said non fat </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-family: verdana;">twice</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> to her, and she still doesn't get it. So I just go "Ah yeah" and make the next drink. I noticed that she was looking at me for like a good ten seconds before it all sank in, and then left. Sometimes in life you've just gotta be like "ah yeah".</span></span>Soshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06943191016502243561noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5604811267579125036.post-35677660243453067382008-10-01T23:30:00.001+01:002008-10-01T23:30:54.810+01:00Wowblogging about working in starbucks can <span style="font-style: italic;">really</span> take it out of you!<br /><br />I'm off to bed.Soshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06943191016502243561noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5604811267579125036.post-711573899683528012008-10-01T22:33:00.000+01:002008-10-01T23:29:17.395+01:001/10/08If there's a date in the title it means that I couldn't think of a title and published this post as soon as I finished it.<br /><br />So I was working an early shift today. 8 - 4. I have to be out of bed by 6 for me to stand any chance of actually making it into work on time. My brother recently broke his phone so took the one I use for my alarms for his own personal use. I woke up today at 7.15. I literally got out of bed, got dressed, and walked into Raheny village to get a taxi to work. It cost me €2o. I was feeling really shitty all morning. I didn't have time to shower or shave or even brush my teeth and I felt fucking filthy. I'm pretty sure I looked it, too. There was nobody doing a mid shift to cover us for breaks, so I only got my lunch at 1.30pm when the people on close came in. It was the best break ever. I got the last meat free panini and I made myself a savage Raspberry and Blackcurrant frap with <span style="font-style: italic;">passion</span> iced tea instead of <span style="font-style: italic;">zen</span>. Ask for it next time, it's class. Actually, it probably won't be, because 99.999999% of starbucks employees are TERRIBLE at making fraps. So much so that I've actually had someone add me and message me on a site called myspace.com (I'm not sure if you've heard of it or not), and tell me that I'm savage at making fraps. Actually, hang on and I'mm quote it. <blockquote>you make a killer caramel frap.<br />good job!!</blockquote>So there we have it. Fuck everyone else.<br />Anyway, I strayed off. This entry was meant to be about what happened after work. I know it kind of fucks with standard protocol or whatever, but I'll do what I want. So after 4 o'clock rolled around, I went for my bus. Usually I get a 102 bus sometimes I'll go a bit mad and just decide to get whichever one comes first. So today I got a 43 with the intention of getting off in Fairview and waiting for either a 31/B, 32/A/B, or a 29A to Raheny. Grand. And it was. I was listening to Nerdlinger (who are the best to ever come out of Ireland ever since the James Joyces'), and was havin' a bash through a book I'm reading called Shantaram. I'm sitting down the back of the bus on the lower saloon (It rules because you can rest your feet on the seat infront of you just like on the Dart). Literally 2 stops later this girl gets on. She's fairly good looking, blonde, and has a pink school bag with her. Don't fucking judge me. Loads of people carry schoolbags. I do. Anyway, a minute or two later I look up to snatch a glance and I see this shine on her face and I'm like "Woah, this girl's got really good skin, and here I am perving on her like some horrible junkie with greasy hair, an unshaved face that's not really stubble but more like a facial knackertash, unbrushed teeth, and bloodshot eyes from a lack of sleep followed by working an eight hour shift. I must have been a right fucking mess. I looked away because I knew that if she caught me looking at her, there'd be no chance of getting away with just giving her the nod. I peeked again. On closer inspection, it was a fucking tear. She didn't have amazingly radiant skin, she was just crying.<br /><br />But it was really weird crying. It was like tears of ultimate defeat or something. Like something had grinded her down that she didn't even show any real emotions. They were just tears running down her face, and she wasn't responding to them just as much as she wasn't fighting them away. It was like she'd been fucked by whatever it was that was upsetting her enough, that she just couldn't feel anything more. It was really shit having to watch it. It was like each tear that ran down her face symbolised a victory to whatever was making her like this, and it was also like she knew it. She knew it and she just didn't have anything left in her to care about it anymore. It was fucked. Every now and again she'd wipe the tears off her face with the sleeve of her jumper, but it was just because they were becoming physically uncomfortable, not that she didn't want anyone to see. She didn't seem like she is in any state to care what anyone else thought. And then my mind went into a logical overdrive of sorts, where I was trying to find reason in all of this. I didn't know this girl, so how the fuck could I possibly guess what had made her like this? But I was trying to think of something anyway. Nothing I could think of matched up. Bullying, a break up, death, bad stuff at home, etc. There's all certain emotions attached to those that can be read fairly easily once you've either experienced them or have seen someone experiencing them. She just seemed really empty and it sucked to see. She took a key out of her pocket and looked at it, and then put it back in. I wasn't sure if she was looking at the key because it might be that she was going somewhere to make her feel better, or if she was looking at it because she didn't want to be behind the door the key unlocked. Who knows. Who cares? Should I have? Probably not, it was just some girl crying. But I'd never seen anyone cry like that and it fucking made some sort of impact on me. I want to know everything about this person, and I want to know if she's alright about whatever, and I want to know what she was feeling. And normally I wouldn't care about this at all because I'm a self involved prick who just looks out for number one, but it was something I didn't understand. And I need to understand everything, because I'm self involved. I need to know everything. I need to know why she was clutching that pink bag so tight before she got off.<br /><blockquote></blockquote><blockquote></blockquote><blockquote></blockquote>Soshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06943191016502243561noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5604811267579125036.post-69156378522251946382008-09-23T23:45:00.000+01:002008-09-24T00:14:01.156+01:00Fashionable rip off t-shirts<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">can suck the fuck. I sort of made a tit of myself the other day because of one of these. This pretty good looking girl from one of the shops in the centre came in wearing a Minor Threat rip off t-shirt, say Major instead of Minor. Now, these could be pretty popular in Topshop or whatever but I'm pretty oblivious to fashion trends as I spend most of my days either working or thinking up elaborate plans to get girls to think that it would be a good idea to go out with me or whatever. Anyway, and I'd been listening to Minor Threat on the bus out to work that day so I was stoked to see someone with that t-shirt. It was better that it was someone of the opposite sex because I started planning our wedding, and it was even better that she was pretty attractive because then nobody could slag me for marrying a minger on my wedding day. So it was the best buzz ever. And then it did a horrible 180 as soon as I commented on her t-shirt. Not even one of the cool 180s like in the Tony Hawks games where you get a pop shove-it / melon combo and rack up a nice score for doing nothing, more like a 180 on a motorway into a lane of oncoming traffic and then getting rammed and suffering whiplash. That sort of 180. The bad buzz 180. So yeah, I asked her if she was into much hardcore, and she just stared at me. Now I know myself that I wasn't refering to porn, but from an outsiders point of view, some dude who works in coffee shop for a horrible wage, who's got bloodshot eyes from having to get up at 5.30am that morning for work, who's talking to a pretty girl with a really decent chest, and who mentions hardcore... Well like, if I had have seen that and not known it was me, I'd think yer man had a boner behind the counter. So anyway, she just kind of looked at me, puzzled, and said "Sorry?", and it left me scrambling words around my mind, trying to get them out in a somewhat articulate manner. That didn't happen. It was more like "Minor Threat?.. Major... T-shirt... Major Threat t-shirt... Hardcore... Minor... Threat... The band? You haven't heard of them? I just... The t-shirt... hvbhbuogybknymjuoyoheuhghhhhghghubunpiyfg.......", onlt to be met by an confused and awkward look. I guess I was so taken aback that she had a Major Threat t-shirt on, and that she didn't even know who the band were, that I couldn't actually bring myself to make sense, because I couldn't make sense of her situation. Anyway I gathered myself and eventually got "I saw your t-shirt and I thought you would have been into hardcore punk, seeing as Minor Threat were a a hardcore band..." out of me, and she was just like "Ah! No, sorry...", but with a sort of apologetic look in her eyes this time. Like what I had said made sense, and that she felt guilty for wearing the t-shirt and looking like a pozur, or that she realised that if she hadn't worn the tee that I wouldn't have so awkwardly tripped over my thoughts and tongue so much. So I was just like "Ah bad buzz... It would've been cool to meet someone who was into the same sort of music and whatnot in here..." and she nodded agreeingly. She said that she'd check them out anyway, so hopefully she becomes the real deal and then I can tell her that I'm in love with her. But yeah, fuck those t-shirts. Seriously. Anyone I see wearing them is fucking dead. And people who think they're safeby covering them up with hoodies or whatever, you're getting it the worst.</span></span>Soshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06943191016502243561noreply@blogger.com1