My Last Day

Today’s the day. It’s finally here. I’ve thought about this moment so many times that whatever happens, I know it won’t live up to the fantasy I’ve created. I’ve decided that instead of doing all the usual unnecessary shit that I do throughout my work day, I’m going to take stock and think about what I’ll miss about this place, and what I look forward to never doing again.

What I’ll Miss:

1. Free Coffee.

2. The few nice Customers.

3. Getting out at 7 on Sunday’s.

4. Fucking with rude people.

5. Locking the doors on people after we close.

6. Listening to music on the store speakers.

7. Trying new flavor combos in my coffee.

8. Hashbrowns.

9. Customers leaving nice reviews on Yelp.

10. Customers leaving ridiculous reviews on Yelp.

11. Giving stressed-out people free coffee, because we’ve all been there.

12. Listening to Raj yell at people for unreasonable things, like using the bathroom he just cleaned.

13. Listening to Raj act super nice when his boss is around.

14. Scaring new Dunks employees with customer horror stories.

15. Listening to full albums at work.

16. Introducing customers to music.

What I Won’t Miss Even A Little:

1. That On-The-Go ringtone that never shuts up.

2. Getting yelled at by entitled morons who think this is an upscale restaurant.

3. People throwing money at me like I’m a bad stripper.

4. Customers complaining because the prices aren’t the same as they were in 1976.

5. Coming home covered in greasy fat and coffee stains.

6. Customers assuming I speak perfect Spanish because I work at Dunks.

7. People placing $50+ orders, and not tipping after.

8. Customers taking money out of my tip jar to avoid breaking a bill.

9. People snapping their fingers while I make their food because they think it’ll speed things up.

10. Blatant heroin users coughing on their money and handing it to me.

11. Drunk people asking if I can add liquor to their drinks.

12. Customers making up flavors and expecting me to know what they are.

13. Parents who bring their crying kid in, and leave them at the counter.

14. Getting 4am calls from the District Manager, asking where the TV remote is.

15. Getting calls at 4:15am from said manager after she finds the remote.

16. Getting called in at 8:30am for a 12pm shift.

17. Having to work 3am-8pm because someone didn’t show up.

18. Coffee “connoisseurs” who can apparently tell the difference between 17 creams and 18 creams in their small iced coffee.

19. People who want their coffee “extra extra light”, then complain that their coffee is too light.

20. Having customers talk on their phone at the counter when they should be ordering.

21. Getting called racist because I ask someone to repeat themselves after they order in another language.

22. Getting cold brew thrown at me because “It’s not cold enough!”

23. Customers getting angry that we don’t have Pumpkin Spice in July.

24. Customers getting offended when I ask if they want their coffee iced or hot.

25. Old people telling me that “Hey Yeah” is The Devil’s Music™️.

26. People who try and order food 45 minutes after the ovens are off.

27. Customers who order small coffees in extra-large cups because they think they’re beating the system.

28. Getting yelled at because I didn’t finish the work that someone else was supposed to do.

29. Getting asked 6 times in a row if the decaf coffee they ordered is actually decaf.

30. Customers who don’t understand what “regular” means, and get mad when they order a regular and it’s not what they wanted.

31. Being told I got a raise, and making the same amount of money every week.

32. Having to do my boss’s paperwork because she wants to go home early.

33. Customers paying for big orders with change.

34. When I greet customers at the counter, and they look at me like I’m offending them.

35. Confused customers who try and get me to pump their gas because they don’t understand how 2 stores can share a building.

36. Customers who get mad that their coffee is on the counter, and not wherever they want to wait for it.

37. Parents who point at me and tell their kids “This is what happens when you don’t go to college!”

38. Overly-complicated sandwich orders that make no sense

39. Having to fix at least one piece of equipment every shift, none of which is ever replaced.

40. Always being out of something that multiple customers want

41. Getting yelled at because we’re out of something a customer wants.

42. Being treated like I’m less than a person because I work at Dunks.

43. Having to pee outside like an animal because the bathroom doesn’t work.

Goodbye, and good riddance

Dumbasses at Dunkin: Part Two

In today’s issue of Dumbasses at Dunkin, I’d like to share with you one of the interesting customers who makes my day a little less shitty, by being a piece of shit themselves.

First thing’s first, I should give a little context. Our bathroom’s been acting up lately, and since it’s the only one in the store, we’ve had some unhappy customers complain. Usually, they understand that the absence of a bathroom is not a big deal for the 5 minutes they spend in out store. Not this man.

This gentleman comes into the store, and immediately demands a bathroom. When I informed him of the bathroom situation, he became quite enraged, insisting that it is illegal to keep him from the out-of-order bathroom, ( spoiler alert: it’s not) and insisted I provide him access. Now, usually people understand that our bathroom is broken because they know how terribly the general public treats bathrooms they don’t have to clean, but this man was different.

After 5 minutes of trying to communicate to the gentleman that the only bathroom in the store was out of order, he exploded. He proceeded to go on a racially-charged rant about how the owner of the gas station was discriminating against him because he was Pakastani, which has probably happened before, so I tried to stay composed. After another round of arguement, the man told me that he would be calling the State House, and that we’d be shut down. Lovely.

He called them up, and I could slowly see his face fall as they presumably told him not only was this the wrong place to call, but that he didn’t have a case. As he hung up the phone, he turned to me and called me “Another one of those racist Brazilians” which is a fucking ridiculous sentance, since I’m about as white as you can be, and I don’t speak Portuguese. As Mr. Grumpypants left, he shouted that he would “Shut this place down, and sue the shit out of you! Just you wait!” Well, tick tock, I don’t have all day.

Your Brain on ADHD

*Alarm buzz*

Time: 9:30am

“Ok, I’ve got time, I can totally just close my eyes for a sec..”

-20 minutes later-

“Shit, I actually have to get up and do things now. I wonder what happened to Shaggy?”

-30 minutes later-

“Ok, so Shaggy was a Marine who served in the Gulf War and sang to pass the time. Let’s see if I can find any pictures of him in uniform, because that doesn’t sound true”

-3 pages of Google Images later-

“Shaggy is an interesting dude, I didn’t know there was a recognized legal defense based on “It Wasn’t Me”

-10 minutes of watching YouTube videos of people losing their shit at Popeyes-

Time: 10:30am

“Huh. I was supposed to do something today, I probably should’ve written that down so I would’ve remembered”

“I wonder if squirrels have names for each other. I wonder what my name would be if I were a squirrel. Squirrel is such a weird word, who came up with that?”

-1 deep dive into the etymology of the word “squirrel” later-

“Damnit, I was supposed to take the trash out for the garbage people today, guess I’ll have to survive until next week.”

“What should I have for breakfast, I’ve been in a toast kick for a minute, but I don’t have much time, so I should have cereal or something quick.”

“I wonder how many Cheerios are in a box, has anyone ever counted them?”

“Shit, I’m late for work, I don’t have time to finish breakfast”

-5 minutes of picking the right album for the ride to work-

Time: 11:30am

“Why is there so much traffic, I didn’t know this many people lived in this town, what the hell?”

-Arrive to work 5 minutes late-

“Everything at work is broken, this day will probably suck. An Always Sunny and Workaholics crossover would be great, I wonder what that would be like”

-Write a spec script on the back of a receipt-

Time: 12:05pm

Only 9 hours before I get to go home…

4 Types of Customers Nobody Likes

I get a wide variety of customers at work, most of them are decent enough people, or harmless. There are always outliers though, people like…

4. The Barely-Awake Stoner

Look, there’s nothing wrong with hitting the ol’ electric lettuce, but c’mon people, get it together before you venture out in public. Sometimes these customers are awesome, they’re usually open to suggestions, they’re funny most of the time, and you might get a big tip if you joke about how baked they look. You can tell you’re in for a bad time when you can smell the reefer before you see the customer, this usually means you’re in for 5 minutes of silence while they figure out where they are, and what they might want to eat. Further signs someone might be catastrophically cooked are when they have trouble relaying their order to you, or if they get distracted in the middle of their sentence and stop talking so they can think. Please smoke responsibly people.

3. The Soccer Mom

I don’t know how common these are everywhere else, but in my pasty-white slice of suburbia they run rampant. This sub-genre of white person is identified by their superior attitude, their cropped haircut, and their complete inability to control their children, who usually have ridiculous names like Braedyn or Jaedon. These woman are about 2 cups of coffee and a Xanax away from total meltdown, so they don’t have time for things like manners or complete sentences. Soccer Moms usually hate the taste of coffee, but rely on the caffeine, so they order drinks that are 95% sugary garbage and 5% coffee, and they expect you to know how much of each of the 7 ingredients to put in without telling you. Jesus help you if it’s even a little off, they’ll make you redo it 4 or 5 times until they think it’s right, even if you make it the same way each time. God forbid, they bring their kids in, forcing you to deal with whatever future asshole they’ve raised to talk down to retail workers. These people have never worked a service job on their lives, so they don’t understand that what they’re doing is wrong.

2. The Conspiracy Nut

There are different stages of conspiracy nuts: the first layer is my favorite, they just vomit out whatever clickbait headline they just skimmed so you think they know what they’re talking about. The layer below that is where I start to get annoyed. These people are usually a couple crayons short of a box, and lack the awareness to realize that I’m not interested in listening to them talk about how Obama was a lizard person, or how the government is secretly giving us Lyme Disease to keep us from getting insurance. Every time one of these Alex Jones- level nuts come by, I pray for someone else to come along so I have an excuse to stop listening to them.

1. The Asshole

These are way too common. I don’t know what these people are like outside of the store, but it seems like the second they get into the store they evolve into some sort of enraged nuclear bomb. For the most part, these people are miserable people who get shat on in their own lives so much that they feel the need to make someone else’s day miserable. I deal with this type of customer every day, and I’ve noticed there are more of them than ever, which provides great material, but I’m getting tired of old people yelling at me because I can’t read their minds. Today, I got yelledat because apparently I didn’t get that “Black Coffee” means small iced with extra cream and sugar. I guess I’ve gotta work on that. I’ve found that laughing at these assholes works like a charm, as does being overly nice to them. Both approaches fry their circuits and leave then speechless, which is alway nice after 5 continuous mintues of verbal abuse.

Dumbasses at Dunkin: Part One

So, it’s super rainy and slow today, so I’ve got some time on my hands, and I know how many people enjoy my Dunkin disasters, so I figured I’d write another one while still at work.

Right out of the gate, we lost power, which, in addition to killing my tunes, killed the walk-in and our Point of Sale system. Fantastic. I called my district manager, and she came in to see what she could do, because apparantly resetting the router didn’t work. When she arrived, she asked what I had done, as if I had somehow killed the power myself. She then proceeded to reset the router, and when that didn’t work, she called my manager and yelled at her. Apparently she should’ve predicted that we’d lose power. After the yelling was complete, the district manager decided the best course of action was to hit buttons until something changed. After around 20 minutes of this madness, she had run out of ideas, and left.

Now, I figured that this would be my excitement for the day, but I was wrong. So, if you’ve read my other posts, you’ll know that my Dunkin is attached to a gas station, and this is the source of much confusion, as people apparently can’t figure out why a coffee shop doesn’t sell gas. After informing a group of people that I couldn’t pump their gas, I look outside and I see it; a man trying to light a cigarette while pumping gas. Usually, I would let nature take its course, but I really didn’t want to have to clean up after he met his fiery demise. Luckily, a large construction worker beat me to it, smacking the cigarette out of his mouth and asking him “The fuck’s wrong with you? You tryna blow us all up?” Well put, Construction Guy.

It’s around 2:30 now, and things are still slow. A customer comes in and asks for a bagel, no big deal, but after I give him said bagel, he remains at the counter. Apparently, he has an issue being given a bag for his bagel. After looking at him for a second, I ask why he’s got a problem. He responds with a rant about how we could be recycling the bags, and using the bags more than once. Now, I do my best to recycle and go green and all that, but I’m not about to reuse bags that have had food in them. After informing the gentleman of our food safety guidelines, he stares at me for a second, and laughs to himself like he can’t comprehend how someone could think he was wrong. As he walks out, the girl behind him barely contains a laugh, confirming that I’m not just an asshole.

I thought that my fun was over for the day, but I was wrong again. Our bathroom is a bit of a wildcard: some days it works,some days it doesn’t flush, and some days it pushes water up. Today was a “push water up” type of day. Usually, people are understanding when I tell them that the bathroom’s broken, but every once in a while, we have some issues. Today, I was accosted by a woman who apparently decided that the water leaking out from under the bathroom door was insufficient evidence that it was broken. She then demanded to use the “employee bathroom” because apparently we have one, which is news to me. After informing her that I have been using a spot behind the dumpster, she flew into a rage, and demanded that we give her access to the broken bathroom. Seeing as this woman looks like she doesn’t have the healthiest diet and would further agitate the plumbing, I directed her to my spot behind the dumpster. As she stormed out, the woman informed us she would be leaving us a bad review on Yelp.

Other than that, my day has been pretty quiet, the network is down, so my workload has been cut in half for the day, leaving me ample time to make fun of morons who can’t behave in public. Hopefully, I’m not here much longer, these people are starting to get to me.

Another Day at Dunks

If you’ve read my blog before, you’ll know that I work at a gas station Dunkin Donuts, A.K.A Hell on Earth. I don’t say this lightly, but I’d rather wait at the RMV for 8 hours than go to work. It’s been an eventful day, so I figured I’d share it.

Immediately upon arrival, I could tell that it’s been a day. The thousand-yard stares from my co-workers told me that I was for a treat today. The store itself looked like it had been bombed, robbed, and abandoned for years, so I spent the first hour and a half making the store look presentable.

My first troublesome customer came in a whopping 45 minutes after I arrived, a new record. He came in lumbering over to my side of the store, incoherently hollering his order for God and the whole store to hear. As he came closer to the counter, I got a whiff of cheap whiskey and Marlboro Reds, the offical scent of assholes. I tried to make small talk with this man while his food cooked, and initially he had no interest, but after he got his food, he became a Chatty Kathy, talking about his asshole boss, his incompetent co-workers, and the Indian guy who owns the gas station across from me. He did not have nice, wholesome things to say about him. Now, the Indian guy, (who normally goes by “Raj”) is usually a gaping prolapsed anus, but in this case, he had a point. The customer was upset about the price of a Gatorade, which is a stupid thing to argue about, and decided to take out his frustration on an unsuspecting Dunkin Donuts employee. After nodding and smiling along as this man ranted and raved, I thank my lucky stars that I’m not as much of a trainwreck as that guy.

After the interesting afternoon, the day started to stagnate, so I turn on some tasty jams ( I’ve been getting into Jack Johnson lately) and begin to prep food for tomorrow. I get about halfway done when one of my regulars came in: a truly delightful nurse who always tips well and calls me “munchkin”. This is a much-needed recharge, as she always makes sure I’ve been drinking water and that I’ve had lunch. I try to hook her up as much as I can, because the world needs more people like her.

My day continued uneventfully until 4pm: which is usually the dinner bell for the crazies. The first one I got is the rarest type of crazy: the nice crazy. She came in, and from the look on her face, she’d either been doing Ecstasy all day, or she was on enough medication that the world seemed like a giant Wes Anderson movie. She came up to the counter, and ordered a small coffee with 18 creams, 6 sugars, and extra ice, which leaves maybe 4 sips of actual coffee. She got her coffee, took a sip, and then proceeded to sing about how she got her coffee.

The next customer that came in is an old woman who didn’t speak English, so now I had to play 20 questions to figure out what she wanted. After about 3 minutes of pointing to items on the menu, I make out one word “Decaf” which narrowed things down a bit. As I tried to figure out how this woman wanted her coffee, another regular showed up. This particular regular is another one of my favorites because he’s always stoned to the gills, to the level where he looks like the stony hippy from Half-Baked. He stood behind this woman with a look of glee on his face, knowing that he is only moments away from enjoying a sugary treat. The longer it takes for this woman to order her coffee, the more this wonderful hippy will begin to question his decision, so I know that I needed to speed the process up. After finally figuring out what this woman wanted, ol’ Smokey came to the counter. With a barely-contained smile, he ordered 3 donuts, and you would’ve thought Jesus Christ himself had made them the way he looked after he got them.

Remember how I said Raj was a gaping anal fissure? Well, here’s some proof; a woman’s car broke down at our store, which is located off a major road, and he wanted her to leave because she didn’t want to buy anything. She came in looking to use a phone, because her’s was dead, and he started yelling for her to leave. As you can probably guess, this woman’s car wasn’t really going anywhere, so Raj called a towtruck and towed her car away, with her yelling and pleading for him to just let her use a phone.

My day winded down with the usual hectic race to close, and looking back, today was better than yesterday, but let’s see what tomorrow brings.

One Day at a Gas Station Dunkin’

9am- I’m awakened by Juicy J’s soothing voice as he croons “GET UP BITCH, GET UP BITCH, GET UP BITCH, GET UP!” Ahh, another beautiful day. I stumble into the shower and stare at the spout for the next 15 minutes, trying to balance my need to stay warm with my need to eat breakfast.

10am- I finish my shower, only to find out that those “15” minutes were more like 25, leaving me with only an hour and a half to eat breakfast and watch COPS. I shovel down my breakfast, ( 3 slices of buttered toast, half an apple, and a glass of OJ, if you were wondering) and began to watch COPS.

11am- 35 blissful minutes of eating and watching dumb people get arrested. At 11:35, I begin my trek to work.

12pm- I step into my Dunkin’ to find that everyone in my tiny farm town wants to get a sandwich. The person who opened has been here since 4am, so they’re not really in the mood to help, and they quickly exit the building. After dealing with the crowd, who somehow forget their manners after waiting all of 3 minutes to order, I tackle the 20 minutes of work I have to do that day. Coffee count: 1 cup

1pm- Downtime. At this point, I’ve pretty much done all I need to do. I sit back, crank some music, and wait for either customers to come in, or a good idea to pop into my head. Coffee count: 3 cups.

2pm- I wander about the store, looking for things to do, and clean up after the animal that decided to leave a pizza box (and 2 slices of pizza) on top of the toilet, with sauce and cheese splattered all over the floor. Great. Coffee count: Still 3 cups

3pm- A large group of landscapers come in, spending 15 minutes deciding what they want to get asking me if we sell burgers and beer. After ordering 4 different drinks, 5 sandwiches, and enough hash browns to feed a small horse, they leave. No tip. Coffee count: 3 cups, working on 4.

4pm- On Twitter now, I’ve been obsessed with reading all of the thirsty dudes who comment thirsty dude things on famous women’s posts. God Bless the lowly social media manager who has to read all these. A geriatric gentleman comes up to the counter and orders his coffee, small black decaf. After confirming 4 times that his coffee was indeed decaf, the gentleman takes a sip. “That’s not decaf, MAKE IT AGAIN!” So much for the Greatest Generation. After making his coffee again, the exact same way, he takes a sip, looks satisfied, and walks out. A 8 year old kid comes over and asks for a blueberry coolatta, which doesn’t exist, but the kid is super polite, so I do my best to accommodate. After combining blue raspberry and bluberry coffee into a coolatta, I hand the kid his beverage. He takes a sip, gives a huge smile and puts a 5 in my tip jar. I’m sure his parents are wondering where that 5 went. Thanks, kid. Coffee count: 4 cups.

5pm- This is usually when the characters start to come out. The first one I get is a 6’5, wildly tattood man who smells strongly of weed and cheap cigars. He orders his coffee in Spanish, a language I don’t speak. After informing him of my ignorance, he repeats his order, only louder. This does not help. After pointing to every item on the menu, I decipher his order, and send him on his way. Coffee count: 5 cups.

6pm- By this point in my shift, my customer service energy is all but depleted, and my interactions with customers begin to sour. After shooing off some freeloaders who want to try every flavor of coffee without buying any, I start to prepare my store for closing. After counting the donuts, preparing the cold brew for tomorrow (and screaming into the walk-in for a moment), one of my regulars steps in. He’s all of 5’2, grey hair pulled back into floor-length dreadlocks, and he is my favorite part of my day. After regaling me with stories from the 1950’s, he orders his coffee, medium dark roast with blueberry and raspberry flavoring. He sits quietly for a time, sipping his coffee in silence, before exclaiming, as he always does, “This is the best cup of coffee I’ve ever had!” Before he leaves, he beckons me closer and slips me a 24oz craft beer: his usual tip. Coffee count: 5 cups.

7pm- This is game time, I’ve got 45 minutes to do something that usually takes 2 people an hour. I heat myself up a croissant, which must send the Bat Signal out to everyone in a 5 mile radius, because by the time I take my first warm, delicious bite, my store is filled with people. One person, a short Chinese woman who has no grasp on the English language, and takes me on a veritable Wheel of Fortune round to figure out her order. After completing the bonus round, I return to my croissant, which has become hard and cold. Shit. At 7:55, after locking the doors to the store, I begin to count my drawer and do my deposits. Suddenly, I hear a women’s voice pierce the air. What the fuck? How did she get in? I go up to the counter and ask her what she needs, and she starts off on a rant about how the last time she was here, 5 years ago, the store closed at 9. After directing her to the sign with the store hours on it, she veers away and starts going off about how I’m lazy and incompetent, and how she’s gonna have me fired. Oooookay lady, you do that, I’m going home. Coffee count: 6 cups.

8pm- I speed away from Dunkin’ like I’m Jesse Pinkman at the end of Breaking Bad. In 20 hours, I’ll be back to do it all over again.