Monday, July 28, 2008


I just read the DCS's answers to her tag and I'd forgotten that she took over my job as the most bad tempered cafe waitress in Derbyshire.

It was a small cafe, frequented by truckers, bikers and climbers. Our role was to serve the customers and trade insults with all comers. We were good at both.

I think we got quite famous for the poor quality of service, and often got stars dropping in on their way from Manchester to Sheffield. I can remember Human League (from Sheffield), Def Leppard (from Sheffield), Boy George (from another planet at that time). Imagine the horror of going somewhere to get insulted and getting ignored.....

I still have a circle in hell reserved for people who deliberately walk on newly washed floors in muddy boots, and still offer up sugar as a yes or no option, not a how many question.

"Do you want sugar"
"One and a half please."
"Yes or you want sugar?

or there's,

"Three slices of toast."
"Say please"
"Three slices of toast, please."
"You can only have an even number of slices, the toaster won't do an odd number."

Any way I can't have been that bad or my sister wouldn't have got the job when I left for university. I think she added a new level to the family reputation.

I like to think my customer service skills are better now, I just think the thoughts, sometimes very loudly, rather than vocalise them.


Anonymous said...

I do like your unquestionable logic when it comes to those questions.

I had a job as a teenager working in the kitchens of a boys' school. Oh the endless fun of 14 yr olds gluing glasses to tables with honey and dropping forks on the floor to try and make you bend over to pick them up.

Happy days!

Eve said...

Ooh, I liked my job better. You probably weren't allowed to swear at the boys, whereas swearing was positively encouraged by my employer.

The customers were the same though, "Bend over and pick my teaspoon up dear." " Only if I can poke it up your nose on the way back up."

Anonymous said...

And as for Boy George, swept in glamorously and my friend whispered frantically through the serving hatch "It's Boy George". Me blankly "Who?", Boy George aloofly "Boy George darling", me "Tea or coffee?". He stalked to his table after checking we allowed darkies (his words) and I clumsily spilled his chips and tomato ketchup on his lovely white frock because I didn't get his irony and thought he was being racist. Sorry.

Eve said...

But he kept coming back...the tomato sauce may have been the last straw though. I don't know if third sister ever had the pleasure of his company.

Milla said...

I wish I'd known you could be rude AND keep your job. I was such a creep when I was a bar person. And Boy George, shudder, he used to try and chat up my (far more beautiful than me, grrr) boyfriend.