Recently, at Taco Bell, we not only have had our automated greeting machine disabled, but we have been given a general rubric of what to say to the customers. Now, we are supposed to say something along the lines of, "Hi, how are you doing today?" to every customer that comes to the drive-thru. I suppose this is nice and all, but does the average customer really care if some random cashier asks how they are doing? Most customers don't even listen to what the drive-thru person says, especially since most of the time they are asked if they would like to try some promotional item that they really don't want. I think I prove my point with the following quote that a customer said to me:
Me: Hi, how are you doing today?
Customer: No thanks.
On a school-related note, I was assigned to write a 14-line sonnet for one of my Brit Lit classes. It has to start with the line "Shall I compare thee to...", and the rest is up to me. I figured that since I haven't been able to have much creative leeway in my assignments this year, that I'd let out all my frustration from having to write "serious" (translation: "boring") essays and reading responses by being completely random, silly, and disgusting for this assignment. Enjoy!
An Ode To Poop
Shall I compare thee to a soggy log
Floating in the murky depths of a porcelain lake?
Thou art slender as a rocket
And as chunky as peanut butter
Thy colors art ever-changing
From breakfast, lunch, and dinner
How refreshing it is to hear your victorious ploop!
And feel the inevitable splash of cold water that follows
Thy aromatic smell flirts with my nostrils
As it wafts its way all throughout the room
Inviting me to look down…
And thus, I must ask this question:
Is that a fecal gold mine, newly born?
Or have I just been eating corn?
Tuesday, April 26, 2005
Tuesday, April 05, 2005
What? Blog Up! I Can't Hear You!
Here is a Taco Bell story that happened a couple days ago at my work. I was hanging out at the first window doing the usual (nothing) when an order came from the drive-thru.
First of all, let me preface this by sharing a terrible situation that happened recently. You know that automated message that some Taco Bell's and other inferior drive-thru restaurants have that asks you if you would like to try such and such an item? Of course you do. Wonderful! That makes the story so much easier to tell. Anyway, we have had that convenient machine ever since I've worked at TB, but just a few days ago, the boss of my boss told us we can't use it anymore, for the ridiculous reason that she wants us to communicate with the customers on a more personal basis.
So the days of having an automated female voice greet you in some foreign tongue which only a few lucky souls who happen to be well versed in the tongue of jibberish can understand, only to have your order taken (hopefully) by someone of a completely different gender and race, are over at my TB. Now, the person doing drive-thru has to greet each customer as soon as he or she or it arrives at the order menu. This is opposed to the normal method of letting the automated voice greet them, and then playing the waiting game to see how long it takes the customer to start ordering before I get bored and start slinging boiling-hot grease from the fryer at them. (I think a cool name for a Catholic-themed restaurant where you give alms instead of paying a tip would be The Deep Friar)
Anyway, back to my other story. A guy had just pulled into the drive-thru with his expensive beemer, and he was driving a nice car too. Miguel, at the second window, greets him over the speaker, and asks what he would like to order. This is what happened:
****Let me preface this by saying that Miguel's headset was working perfectly.****
Miguel: How's it going? How can I help you?
Man: *silence*
Miguel: *waits* Go ahead when you're ready.
Man: *silence*
Miguel: ...Hello??
Man: Hello?
Miguel: Can I help you? *waits* ...Hello?
Man: *silence* ...I'll take 2 grilled stuft burritos with no tomatoes, onions, or peppers.
Me: *thinking* Peppers?
Miguel: Ok, do you want steak, chicken, or ground beef?
Man: ...Hello?
Miguel: *speaks louder* Do you want steak, chicken, or ground beef?
Man: *silence, and then, in a tone that made it seem like he had not heard the question* ...I want 2 grilled stuft steak burritos with no tomatoes, onions, or peppers.
Miguel: Ok, I have 2 grilled stuft steak burritos with no tomatoes or onions.
Man: *silence* ...Hello?
Miguel: Yes, anything else?
Man: *silence* ...Got that?
Miguel: *flabbergasted* Yes sir...
Man: *silence* ...Ok, thanks.
The man then proceeds to drive to the first window. This whole time, I've been crouching down in the doorframe of the office, laughing hysterically, and realizing I would be blogging about this incident later. I get up and walk over to the window while trying to maintain some semblance of composure as the guy says to me, "You can barely hear that thing!" Meanwhile, I'm thinking, "Well actually, I can hear it perfectly well, and so can every other customer that has come through the drive-thru today..." He looked like one of those trendy people who like to listen to rap in increments of 100's on the decibel scale. So he can't hear. Too bad. Turn down your radio next time. We don't need to hear your crappy music from 13 blocks away.
I leave you with a silly joke I thought up while my creative juices were flowing during the writing of this blog:
Why did the tortilla cry out in pain when it ran into a wall?
It stubbed its burrito.
First of all, let me preface this by sharing a terrible situation that happened recently. You know that automated message that some Taco Bell's and other inferior drive-thru restaurants have that asks you if you would like to try such and such an item? Of course you do. Wonderful! That makes the story so much easier to tell. Anyway, we have had that convenient machine ever since I've worked at TB, but just a few days ago, the boss of my boss told us we can't use it anymore, for the ridiculous reason that she wants us to communicate with the customers on a more personal basis.
So the days of having an automated female voice greet you in some foreign tongue which only a few lucky souls who happen to be well versed in the tongue of jibberish can understand, only to have your order taken (hopefully) by someone of a completely different gender and race, are over at my TB. Now, the person doing drive-thru has to greet each customer as soon as he or she or it arrives at the order menu. This is opposed to the normal method of letting the automated voice greet them, and then playing the waiting game to see how long it takes the customer to start ordering before I get bored and start slinging boiling-hot grease from the fryer at them. (I think a cool name for a Catholic-themed restaurant where you give alms instead of paying a tip would be The Deep Friar)
Anyway, back to my other story. A guy had just pulled into the drive-thru with his expensive beemer, and he was driving a nice car too. Miguel, at the second window, greets him over the speaker, and asks what he would like to order. This is what happened:
****Let me preface this by saying that Miguel's headset was working perfectly.****
Miguel: How's it going? How can I help you?
Man: *silence*
Miguel: *waits* Go ahead when you're ready.
Man: *silence*
Miguel: ...Hello??
Man: Hello?
Miguel: Can I help you? *waits* ...Hello?
Man: *silence* ...I'll take 2 grilled stuft burritos with no tomatoes, onions, or peppers.
Me: *thinking* Peppers?
Miguel: Ok, do you want steak, chicken, or ground beef?
Man: ...Hello?
Miguel: *speaks louder* Do you want steak, chicken, or ground beef?
Man: *silence, and then, in a tone that made it seem like he had not heard the question* ...I want 2 grilled stuft steak burritos with no tomatoes, onions, or peppers.
Miguel: Ok, I have 2 grilled stuft steak burritos with no tomatoes or onions.
Man: *silence* ...Hello?
Miguel: Yes, anything else?
Man: *silence* ...Got that?
Miguel: *flabbergasted* Yes sir...
Man: *silence* ...Ok, thanks.
The man then proceeds to drive to the first window. This whole time, I've been crouching down in the doorframe of the office, laughing hysterically, and realizing I would be blogging about this incident later. I get up and walk over to the window while trying to maintain some semblance of composure as the guy says to me, "You can barely hear that thing!" Meanwhile, I'm thinking, "Well actually, I can hear it perfectly well, and so can every other customer that has come through the drive-thru today..." He looked like one of those trendy people who like to listen to rap in increments of 100's on the decibel scale. So he can't hear. Too bad. Turn down your radio next time. We don't need to hear your crappy music from 13 blocks away.
I leave you with a silly joke I thought up while my creative juices were flowing during the writing of this blog:
Why did the tortilla cry out in pain when it ran into a wall?
It stubbed its burrito.
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