loopy's Journal

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well... at least they're up front about it... But staff?

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so... apparantly some dude found a finger in his ice cream. In America, of course, but damn.

"I thought it was candy because they put candy in your ice cream ... to make it a treat. So I said, 'OK, well, I'll just put it in my mouth and get the ice cream off of it and see what it is.'"

here's the whole article...

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That's what it says on the back of my work shirt. I HATE it. And then today, in my break, some prick says "It says it on the back of your shirt, would you like a coffee with that." FOR CRYING OUT LOUD. I know it says that. I hate that it says that. I am filled with bitterness and rage as I put it on each and every morning, because I know the words that will be branded on my back until I get home and change it. Bah. I really don't care wether or not you want a bloody coffee. It's bad enough when I'm serving a customer and they say "could you please turn around?" pauses "no thanks." But it goes to an entirely new and bad level when they do something similiar IN MY BREAK. I'm sitting down, I don't want to think about how I have to be back in 20 or so minutes, I'm resting my feet for a litle bit, quietly eating a bacon, carrot and chilli sauce or an eggplant, pesto, cream cheese and carrot (I like carrot) sandwich, perhaps sipping a coke, generally minding my own business. I DON'T WANT ANYBODY COMMENTING ON MY BLOODYCANARYYELLOWSTUPIDFUCKINGHATEINDUCINGBITTERN ESSBRINGING WORK SHIRT

The End.

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