Beyond Bread

Saturday was my last day at Beyond Bread. Unlike Sunflower Market I really did enjoy working there, despite the inevitable stupidity of people. I don't want to work in a restaurant again for precisely that reason. Thankfully the idiocy was limited primarily to customers and the occasional coworker and not the managers, which again, is more than I could say about Sunflower. I didn't learn as much about humanity as I did with my first job, but important lessons can still be drawn from the experience. Some of these might not be lessons so much as rants, but oh well:
-Passing the anti-smoking law in Arizona really helped get rid of the most unpleasant coworkers. Within a week of that passing the mean, dessicated, beady eyed spinster, the creepy, fish-faced,-alleged pedophile and the irritatingly flamboyantly gay drug addict all quit or were fired. Funny how my upbringing indirectly taught me that smokers were bad people and I fought against that generalization for years, yet the worst people at work all just happened to be smokers. I felt vindicated, but I'm still trying to fight that prejudice.
-Beyond Bread seems to hire two main types of people: beautiful young girls and creepy and/or lecherous men. There's more variety than that but the trend is readily visible and puzzling. On top of that there's a division between the Front of House and the Sandwich Line. The FoH people tend to be the attractive, charismatic and polite type while the Sandwich Line tend to be the foul mouthed, rude and surly type. There are exceptions to every rule, of course.
-Every semester I try to give sorority girls the benefit of the doubt; maybe they're not as dumb as we all think, maybe it's all an act. And every semester I'm angry at myself for questioning my own senses. I'm sorry, they really are dumb and as polite as they pretend to be with their smiles and upward inflections? they are rather inconsiderate. I have a long list of stories I could tell, but I'll just give you this one: after an agonizingly long and confused and needlessly complicated order they declare how they must be the worst customers in the world (they're not, sadly) and that I should get a tip for putting up with them. They proceed to pay and walk off with a "'annnkyou!" and leave no tip. I don't mind not getting a tip, really I don't, but if you basically tell someone you'll give them a tip because you know you've been difficult and you don't tip them at all, you're a total bitch.
-Some things to remember are: Beyond Bread does not have pastrami. Nor does it have potato salad. Nor does it have a soup/salad/sandwich combo. They have menus by the front of the entrance, please take two seconds to locate them. The sides are (please remember this): chips (they are called Beyond Bread Crisps on the menu. This is admittedly confusing as they are not chips of bread but simply house brand potato chips) baked Lays, baby carrots (they are raw, why would you have cooked carrots as a side?) or for an extra fifty cents pasta salad (totally worth it) or vinegar slaw (wouldn't be worth it if it were free). If you're going to order half a sandwich, let the cashier know that part first, not last.
-Getting free pastries night after night on the closing shift sounds great at first, but the novelty wears off soon. Or at least it should.
-Do not complain about how fat you are while you take home multiple pastries a night each night for a month.
-The highly volatile and eccentric people they hire at Beyond Bread are, as the managers pointed out, the good ones. "You should see the ones we turn away!" Now there's an unsettling thought. And on a related note, don't ask for a job application reeking of alcohol. Also, don't answer "Why do you want to work here?" with "I'm really desperate for work! Please! I'll work anywhere!"
-If I find the people who seem to enjoy deliberately defiling public restrooms, I will stab them in the eye (I strongly encourage you to do the same). Seriously now, what reason is there to pee on the floor, crap on the side of the toilet or wipe your snot on the walls? Assholes.
-Ending on a high note, customer stupidity or mere oddness is the greatest source of entertainment there is at work. From people ordering Montezuma's Revenge and Gordy's Godzilla to a bowl of Gestapo and the Eat Me Out salad. The last funny story I heard was regarding a certain young, blonde, beautiful and shapely customer. Usually she only comes in with a very rich older man and of course he pays for their meal. But the other day she came in by herself and when she paid with her credit card the cashier noticed her name: Tyndall Tsunami. The first thought that went through her head (bless her sweet little heart) was that she must have married him because of his last name. She seemed very unaware of how much that sounded like a porn star name. I Googled it (how could I not?) but found nothing. I'm also left wondering why you would have your stage name on your credit card.