It has come to my attention that most of the people I have contact with in a typical day, do not speak English.
This poses something of a problem, to say the least, when an English-speaking person is trying to communicate with a non-English-speaker. Now, I've had enough training in the French language to make myself vaguely understood... I could, for example, ask a person if they wanted fries with that, by pointing to some french fries and asking "Des frites?" And maybe if a Spanish-speaking person came in and asked for fries, I'd know what they meant. Spanish is pretty easy if you've heard a little bit of it. And most Spanish speakers -- in my experience -- are pretty animated people, so the specifics of the words aren't a huge issue for a non-Spanish-speaker.
But alas, the people with whom I have verbal intercourse in a typical day, are not French speakers or Spanish speakers. In fact, most of the people I serve each day at my place of employment, do not appear to speak any language at all.
A typical session of quality customer service:
Helena: "Hi, what can I get for you?"
Customer: "Euhhhh?"
Helena (slowly and with emphasis): "What? Can I GET? For you?"
Customer: "Eunnn..." (a forty-five second hesitation) "Wassat?" (pointing)
Helena: "That's a cheeseburger, sir. Would you like a cheeseburger?"
Customer: "Unh?"
Helena: "Cheeseburger. A hamburger. With cheese on it."
[Customer looks baffled. Bewilderment gives way to frustration.]
Customer: "Wonnuh-em?"
Helena: "You'd like one of them? Okay. Anything else?"
[Customer looks baffled, and almost outraged... He does not answer, only nods his head.]
Helena: "What else would you like sir?"
[The customer becomes irate, and slams a fist on the counter. He says nothing.]
Helena (holding up a cup): "Okay... Would you like a SODA?"
[The customer grabs the cup. Helena rings up the customer for a cheeseburger and a soda.]
Helena: "Okay, sir, is that for here? Or to go?"
Customer: "Eeeeeeeuuuuhhhh...."
Helena: "For HERE?" [Helena points to the floor with her index finger] "Or to GO?" [Helena points out the door.]
Customer: "Yes."
Helena: "Okay then. One at a time. For HERE?"
[Customer shakes head "no," and says again, "Yes!" Helena assumes that means yes.]
Helena: "Okay, that will be $2.14."
[Customer places a wallet on the counter, and angrily counts out change. Customer slams change on counter. Helena backs up a little in case he decides to spit on her... Of course, the change is all wrong, so Helena gives some of it back before ringing it into the register. The customer is now infuriated.]
Helena: "And here's your change, sir... You can pick up your food right over there." [Helena points to indicate which way the man should walk, as he's started to walk in the wrong direction, and Helena is afraid he's going to walk into the wall...]
I would like to know how the hell these people survive! Seriously! How the HELL do you get through life without knowing how to order a damned cheeseburger in a fast food joint? Without knowing what a soda is? Without knowing how to count change? Survival of the fittest, indeed. It seems that "survival of the stupidest" is more accurate. Let's just re-read the little segment above. Did it sound familiar? Perhaps like an old man suffering from dementia? No, indeed. That was a man of about 35 years. Suffering from stupidity.
A young boy comes to the counter with a list written on an index card. "I wanna numba fo', anna Coke," says the boy. He's about nine, a cute little thing. It appears that his mom, or somebody, has sent him over here to pick up some lunch. A pretty shitty thing to do to a little boy. Hell, when I was his age, my mom wouldn't even let me cross our quaint little suburban street to get the damned mail, much less wander around on a busy street like this one... But I ring the kid up and say, "okay, that's $3.77." He walks away.
"Um... excuse me? You need to pay, or we can't give you the food..."
"I do?"
"Um... did your mom give you any money?"
"No."
"Do you HAVE any money?"
"Uh... yeah."
Fucking HELL! The kid's mom sends him to get food for the family (or whoever), and doesn't give him any money? The poor kid is dragging quarters out of his pockets...
What is this world COMING to? At least the nine-year-old had a better command of the language -- ANY language -- than the 35-year-old...
A slighty-beefy late-20-something woman approaches the counter.
"I want... Um... The double cheeseburger--"
"Do you want the value meal?"
"Yes. Large. And, um... an order of mozzarella sticks... And... some onion rings... And, um... another order of fries... And, um... a strawberry milkshake... And, um... Can I have two of those chicken-tenders things? The eight-piece, not the five-piece... And, um... An apple pie... Oh, can I have two of those?"
Okay, so the lady keeps on ordering food for like, five minutes in this manner...
Helena: "Is that for here or to go?"
Lady: "Here please."
Okay, it should be noted that this woman came into the restaurant ALONE... All of this food is for HERSELF.
Fast food, it appears, is a bulimic's wet dream. Gross. You wouldn't fucking BELIEVE how many people -- mostly somewhat-attractive and quasi-intelligent young women -- come into my restaurant, order themselves a HUGE meal, eat every scrap of it, lick their trays, and then rush to the bathroom... It's SO gross. It's SO, SO, SO gross... Not that I have a problem with people with eating disorders or anything -- I'm well aware that people with eating disorders have legitimate problems and I DO feel a great deal of sympathy and compassion for them, but DUDE! Why don't these people at least get their food and LEAVE with it??? If I have to go into the bathroom and find ONE MORE fresh puddle of barf, I swear I'm going to scream... Dude! I CAN'T DEAL WITH THIS!!!
This one woman I just described probably personifies a LOT of my customers... But there was one woman in particular who literally ordered almost twenty dollars' worth of food, and ate ALL of it in a booth at the back of the restaurant (yeah, like nobody knew what she was doing? she had to hide in the back of the restaurant? duh...), and then immediately went into the bathroom. What a waste. A waste of money, a waste of food (so it's shitty food, but still...), and a waste of life... And a waste of my time when I went to clean the bathroom later... UGH!!!
This job depresses me. My faith in humanity is just about gone.
WHY have we decided that human beings are intelligent enough to choose their own governments? They're NOT! People aren't intelligent enough to wipe their own ASSES without the assistance of a fast-food employee! Yet these are the folks who are VOTING. Who are running BUSINESSES! Who are DRIVING! These are the folks who are making laws and teaching ninth-grade math! This is humanity! This is it!
This is IT...?
I'm about to say something that I really, really don't want to say...
Sometimes I'm in favor of The Bomb. Sometimes I'm in favor of wars and diseases and violence. The only problem with those things is that wars and diseases and violence ALSO wipe out the few remaining people who aren't just entirely disgusting. There's maybe a tenth of a percent of people in this country -- maybe in this world -- who might be BENEFICIAL to the world, to the arts and the sciences, to spirituality, to production and invention and enlightenment... The rest? The rest are scarfing burgers -- with my help... And voting... and teaching... and driving...
I'm not in favor of The Bomb. No, forget I ever said that. I'm not in favor of anything that would destroy the lives of people like the ones I spend time with at the Belmar, or Java Joe's, or my apartment, or my friends in Washington, or those of you who are probably reading this... I AM, however, in favor of evolution. It's just not working very fast. It's not working NEARLY fast enough...
Man, I sound like a bitch. So be it. In this moment, I honestly mean it.
~Helena*
"Are you EVOLVED?" --a t'shirt my friend Angela used to wear all the time