When you have a horrible guest who has interrupted you about 25 times when you begin to answer their question, just stop. Just stop until they finally finish repeating themselves for the hundredth time. Then give it a moment. Just enough of a moment to be awkward. And before you start wasting your breath, request confirmation that they would actually like you to answer their question. And maybe then you will get to say your bit and get them out of everyone’s face.
My favourite part of dealing with this woman (she was upset that we carded her son for an R rated film) was that after getting in my face and my employee’s face, and after interrupting me every time I tried to explain our policy…she had the audacity to commend me for never being rude or raising my voice at her.
That annoys me. I feel like she is either completely stupid and had no idea just how threatening her own tone and body language were, or worse…she DOES know, and she knows it’s not right to act that way with people.
…and because I’m curious: what on earth kind of mother thinks her children don’t need some kind of photo ID? She told me (because it is SO relevant to her complaint) that her older son is going off to college soon and has never had any form of state ID.
I’m positive he will never encounter ANY situations in college where he might need something like that… *shrug* None of my business, I suppose.
…and in keeping with my tendency to abruptly change the subject: here is an entertaining time we had, talking about hot dogs.
Mike T: Why don’t we have any more mayo packets?
Tyler: Because we’re getting rid of the only item that shit goes on.
Me: We still have hot dogs.
Tyler: That’s gross. You don’t put mayo on hot dogs.
Me: Well, I don’t eat mayonnaise, so you’re right there. But I also don’t eat hot dogs. I was just saying our guests might.
Tyler: That’s just wrong. Nobody should do that. *pause* Did you know that the National Hot Dog Association says that nobody over the age of 10 should even be using ketchup on hot dogs?
Me: This is the first I’ve heard of such an association.
Mike T: Can we get another topping to replace the mayo? Like onions?
Tyler: Onions can go fuck themselves.
Me: That’s pretty hostile.
Blair: Oh, I HATED the dressed hot dogs we served at my old theatre.
Me: Yeah, okay. At least our toppings were self-serve. I still didn’t enjoy portioning out giant tubs of diced onion. *considers* But the sauerkraut? That was the worst. You spilt that on yourself and you’d get to spend the rest of your shift sad and gross.
Mike T: Sauerkraut? You guys served sauerkraut?
Tyler: Yep. Those were the days.
Me: *to Mike* You seem unduly excited about that.
Mike T: I was just thinking–if you wanted to smell like an actual Nazi…
Me: Where are the rubber bands so I can shoot you again?
Tyler: So your perception of Nazis is that they just bathe in sauerkraut?
Mike T: That sounds so German. *dodges a rubberband* I can’t think of anything else that sounds more German.