It's tough being Picaso

Today I told the general manager that she needs to start erecting a statue in my honor. Seriously. I have a new individual to introduce to you, I give you

Quickdraw

Quickdraw is the lead chef at our store, and is probably the most incompetent person I've ever met. It allows me to sleep incredibly well knowing that it will take him at least 10 years of hard work for him to be half as good as me. A coworker compared working with him to working with a monkey, without the poop.

It doesn't matter whether it's an opening shift, a closing shift, or the rare mid shift, Quickdraw gets exactly 2 things made a day. He can take 4 hours to do something I can do in 15 minutes and look like he's working his ass off the entire time.

A 9 month pregnant woman could literally walk circles around him. LITERALLY!

I have found that the most difficult part of my job is to now make a person with the intelligence of a ivy league brick feel like he's got good ideas. I never thought that fake sincerity could actually be physically painful, but it is. I'm pretty sure the pain is my soul being torn into pieces.


I want my statue to be about a foot taller than me, and possibly slightly menacing.

So lately I've been looking for a new job, the custodial arts might have more culinary background than my current job soon. And with openly telling everyone there that "I will be leaving, it's just a matter of when not if." I have found that I am like a great artist or author, only appreciated after I'm gone. The head of the meat department caught me on a bad day and i told him I was about to tell everyone all about themselves, and it's been such a struggle not to. I've started doing the "Burn Every Bridge" dance when I'm really irritated, and also have become quite the instigator in the department. "Bend to my will minions, I mean coworkers!"

The Twat

Sadly, the Twat has already reproduced. One of her brood happened to briefly be engaged to one of the part timers in our department. (nothing like being an in-law to be to get some great job bonuses.) Well, it didn't work out, and then she quit.
In a conversation with probably out best part-timer (she's great) The Twat was asked about ex-fiancee. Her response was not surprising at all
"I don't care what she's doing! And if my son wants to keep up with the likes of her he might as well just move out because I'm not having it!"

What is she doing that's so bad you might ask? Simple, dating a black guy.

What the Twat didn't know was that the part-timer she unloaded this tidal wave of unnecessary racism onto was not only dating a black man herself, but he was also the loving father of her son. To tell the Twat she was caught, this part-timer brought a picture her next shift that just happened to have both her son and his father in it. And the priceless reaction to that picture when the Twat put two and two together I unfortunately missed but it went a little like,
"OH! But I didn't... I mean... That was just her... I didn't mean... narm, narm, narm, etc."
I wish i could've been there to laugh at her.

Crazypants McPostal

Crazypants is also a new addition to the gang. She is a history major who under no circumstance will ever be a teacher (found that out by mistakenly asking her about it, touchy subject for some weird reason. I just don't know). She also has this real creepy habit of staring of into space and slowly getting this really big pointless smile on her face almost like out of a horror movie. She will walk over to my case on the far end of the department and look in it 3 or 4 times an hour. Not for anything in particular, but i imagine to see if the foods dancing or turned into squirrels or something, and then laugh, then walk back to her area. I'm not as afraid of her shanking me at the dish sink as I was with the last person I worked with like her, but if she ever stops smiling, I'm running, and I don't run.

Mr. Wizard

Mr. Wizard, the third new type of crazy I have to cope with, is from another store. He worked at a starbucks for about a year and a half, never really stepping foot into the actually deli, yet believes he is the authority on operating procedures for the entire department. He educated me as to why burnt things smell, and my personal favorite, why lights burn out in the kitchen.
Is there a drug that leaves red bag under your eyes? He looks like on of those dogs with the really droopy eyelids.


Maybe these will happen a little more frequently, but I wouldn't hold your breath.