Before I begin, I would like to let everyone know the different between a "noob", and a "newb". Apart from their spelling, the words are different. Being a "noob" means that you are, for some reason or another, bad at what you do. This word is oftentimes used to attach a negative correlation to another person. Being a "newb" means that you are simply new at a certain activity. For example, a boy who has just begun to ride a bike and who is not very good is considered a "newb". If 10 years later, that same boy is still not very good at riding a bike, he can be considered a "noob". This is something not many people know, so I thought I would share it with all of you. This weekend Chic-Fil-A had two new employees; one in the kitchen, and one at the counter. Ever since I began working, I looked forward to the day a new recruit would step his foot inside the door. This guy, was a perfect example of a "newb".
Now I am not a naturally mean person, but when I get really bored I tend to do things to try and entertain myself, which sometimes entails being mean. As soon as this kid introduced himself to me I could tell the whole situation of training him would be a great time. He shyly shook my hand and smirked, as a bead of sweat dripped down his forehead. "It's not really that hot back here man.."
As you could probably guess, I spent the night hassling this kid in any way I could, and occasionally the other workers joined in as well. We made him take out the trash three times, when we usually only take it out once a night. This, along with many other tasks and adventures we set him on, made the kid very regretful of his choice of a job I'm sure.
As we were leaving I shook the kid's hand and told him it was all fun and games. He gave me a weak smile and laugh. In a way I kind of felt sorry for the poor boy, but not really. In a couple of days the fun will probably rub off, and he will become a part of the Chic-Fil-A team.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Sunday, February 14, 2010
The Fight
Why do people watch reality TV? When you take a step back and look at it, it's actually kind os pointless. I'll admit that even I have been known to occasionally watch MTV on weekends spent bored at my homestead. The truth is, I kind of like them. Not because of the steamy kisses, emotional deaths, or the weird people. I've realized that every great reality TV show has it's fair share of drama, betrayals, and fights, and that's why I think I enjoy watching them. They make me laugh more than anything else can. This week I would like to compare Chic-Fil-A to a reality TV show.
It all started Friday night, as things were winding down. It was around 9:00, and everyone was getting things ready to close. This is always a stressful time, everyone is clamoring around with rags and water is being slung on the floors for cleaning. I think is what finally pushed this girl over the edge. I didn't see how it started, all I know is that one second I was washing dishes, and another second I was back in the break room, watching a fight between two girls develop. It began with yelling, the way only two girls can yell, then a push, then another. By this time we had a crowd of workers huddled around. The other girls kept trying to mediate things, but it wasn't working. The guys just stood around, with dumbfounded looks on their faces. I was near the front, gaining access to most of the action, and I'm not going to lie, it was hilarious. After a while, the manager came rushing back and grabbed one of the girls. She struggled and cussed in his arms as he pulled her away.
The guys and I took the rest of the night to discuss how funny the whole situation was. It was almost exactly like a reality TV show, and I loved it. Don't get me wrong though, I'm a lover, not a fighter (even though I do have large muscles.)
So with that, I say goodnight, and peace. Literally. ;)
It all started Friday night, as things were winding down. It was around 9:00, and everyone was getting things ready to close. This is always a stressful time, everyone is clamoring around with rags and water is being slung on the floors for cleaning. I think is what finally pushed this girl over the edge. I didn't see how it started, all I know is that one second I was washing dishes, and another second I was back in the break room, watching a fight between two girls develop. It began with yelling, the way only two girls can yell, then a push, then another. By this time we had a crowd of workers huddled around. The other girls kept trying to mediate things, but it wasn't working. The guys just stood around, with dumbfounded looks on their faces. I was near the front, gaining access to most of the action, and I'm not going to lie, it was hilarious. After a while, the manager came rushing back and grabbed one of the girls. She struggled and cussed in his arms as he pulled her away.
The guys and I took the rest of the night to discuss how funny the whole situation was. It was almost exactly like a reality TV show, and I loved it. Don't get me wrong though, I'm a lover, not a fighter (even though I do have large muscles.)
So with that, I say goodnight, and peace. Literally. ;)
Saturday, February 6, 2010
The Party
Ever since I could remember, I have loved walking around in public places. I have always been the observation type. The truth is, a lot of comical things can be seen if you just take the time to notice them. As you could probably guess, I've seen a lot of precarious people walk in and out of the Chic-Fil-A doors in the short period of time I have been employed there, but this weekend topped it all.
It was around 3:00 Friday afternoon, I was going through the motions back in the Chic-Fil-A kitchen, cooking fries and chatting it up. We had been relatively slow all day, and I was loving my current state of mind. I noticed that the girls up front all developed a concerned look, and began whispering to one another. I knew something had to be up so I walked to the kitchen door and peered through the circular window. A birthday party. Everyone dreaded birthday parties because it required us all to exert a little extra effort in preparing the food and blowing up the balloons. After informing the others of the bad news, I stepped out into the lobby to get the scoop on exactly what we needed to do in order to get things ready. I noticed immediately that there was something different about this party. There was no childish yelling, no stressed out parents, no children. It took me five minutes of investigation until I gave up, and I went to ask a manager what was going on. He informed me that in fact it was a birthday party, as I had expected, but it was to celebrate two fifty-year-old's birthday. This struck me as very odd, why would a fifty-year-old want to have a birthday party at a fast-food restaurant? I had to get a better look at these guys, so instead of going back into the kitchen to help everyone else out, I acted like I was cleaning tables as everyone sat down. I quickly picked out the birthdayers by their triangular party hats, and their scraggly but cool facial hair. I watched as they brought in cake and other assortments of birthday food, as well as some chicken sandwiches. These two guys were truly awesome. They yelled, laughed, and acted like two five-year-olds at Chuckee Cheese. And on top of it all, their guest list consisted of their mother and relatives. The party winded down after about an hour, and they left after thanking all of us for the food. I couldn't get those guys off my mind for the rest of the night.
When I think of being fifty years old, I see myself desiring solitude. I have most likely lived an enjoyable but difficult and tiresome life, and I will realize it is time for me to settle down a bit. It is apparent to me that these two men do not share the same ideas as me, but I have to admire them. I have often wondered about when I get older, and I look back upon my childhood; will I like it? will I want it back? will I want to re-live it? Well, the two fifty-year-old partiers sure did know what they were doing, and I think I learned a pretty powerful lesson from the two strangers.
Live your life.
It was around 3:00 Friday afternoon, I was going through the motions back in the Chic-Fil-A kitchen, cooking fries and chatting it up. We had been relatively slow all day, and I was loving my current state of mind. I noticed that the girls up front all developed a concerned look, and began whispering to one another. I knew something had to be up so I walked to the kitchen door and peered through the circular window. A birthday party. Everyone dreaded birthday parties because it required us all to exert a little extra effort in preparing the food and blowing up the balloons. After informing the others of the bad news, I stepped out into the lobby to get the scoop on exactly what we needed to do in order to get things ready. I noticed immediately that there was something different about this party. There was no childish yelling, no stressed out parents, no children. It took me five minutes of investigation until I gave up, and I went to ask a manager what was going on. He informed me that in fact it was a birthday party, as I had expected, but it was to celebrate two fifty-year-old's birthday. This struck me as very odd, why would a fifty-year-old want to have a birthday party at a fast-food restaurant? I had to get a better look at these guys, so instead of going back into the kitchen to help everyone else out, I acted like I was cleaning tables as everyone sat down. I quickly picked out the birthdayers by their triangular party hats, and their scraggly but cool facial hair. I watched as they brought in cake and other assortments of birthday food, as well as some chicken sandwiches. These two guys were truly awesome. They yelled, laughed, and acted like two five-year-olds at Chuckee Cheese. And on top of it all, their guest list consisted of their mother and relatives. The party winded down after about an hour, and they left after thanking all of us for the food. I couldn't get those guys off my mind for the rest of the night.
When I think of being fifty years old, I see myself desiring solitude. I have most likely lived an enjoyable but difficult and tiresome life, and I will realize it is time for me to settle down a bit. It is apparent to me that these two men do not share the same ideas as me, but I have to admire them. I have often wondered about when I get older, and I look back upon my childhood; will I like it? will I want it back? will I want to re-live it? Well, the two fifty-year-old partiers sure did know what they were doing, and I think I learned a pretty powerful lesson from the two strangers.
Live your life.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
