Sunday, 3 February 2013

working at ebsoys

I'm not supposed to talk about my job on the internet. I could get fired.
This is me caring.

Things About My Work

The other day I saw a woman in an intense snowmobiling jacket and gloves striding through the store very purposefully with a cucumber in hand.

The other week I saw a very bald man accept for a long scraggly pony-tailish patch of black hair at the back of his head.

Adorable encounter with an old man (OLD MEN ARE MY FAVOURITE EVER). I was in the middle of cleaning something, and looked over and saw him looking at the hot food service counter thing.
"Can I help you?" I asked. He shook his head, pointed at his eyes, and pointed at the food, making it clear that he was still looking. I went on about my business for a few more seconds, and when I looked up he pointed at me then at the food. Normally, I would find this rude, but as aforementioned, old men are adorable, so I didn't mind. (I'm talking really old here, like....)
I was wondering to myself if he might be hard of hearing or have difficulty speaking, hence the gesturing, and was a little surprised when he spoke up loud and clear and asked for two pieces of chicken. 
"Oh, sure!" I'm extra sweet cuz he's adorable. I look in the case. "It looks like there's only the breasts left. Is that ok?"
"What's that?" he asks.
"There's only the breasts left, is that ok?" I repeat, mildly embarrassed.
"Oh yes, that's the part I like best." As I turn away to get a container I try to suppress the sudden urge to giggle. I just couldn't help but wonder if he was being smart...

Guy who comes to the deli right before we close.
I'm sorry for chatting with you that one night when I was excessively bored and then shutting you down the next time you came around and attempted to flirt with me. I never should've been so friendly in the first place. So many regrets... I hope your heart is not broken.

The stare of death
People come into the store and are chatting away on their phones and expect me to serve them! More than that, they stand at the counter, looking, and chatting, and expect me to go up to them and say "Can I help you?" I refuse. I will not. They usually get the idea and gesture to me and I finally relent and approach, still waiting for them to speak. My face looks like this.

It is very inviting. Sometimes they get the idea and hang up, other times not, and I'm afraid I have to be very short with them. 

Tonight, I was busy cleaning something, when I heard someone loudly whistle a tune. I saw a man standing at the salad counter. I felt rather annoyed. Though not a direct whistle for attention, that had clearly been the idea. I'm afraid I must have given him the above look, for he suddenly became very apologetic.

"Oh, I'm in no rush," he said quickly, "You just finish whatever it is that you're doing." What I was doing was about a half an hour's worth of dishes. I decided that this was a little too severe a punishment.
"Oh no, it's fine," I turned sweet since he was clearly apologetic. I served him, he was nice as could be, and after thanking me he apologized again for taking me away from my work. 
"Oh no, that's fine, this is my job too!" I assured him. I didn't realize I'd given him my stare of death, but I must have, I don't know what else could have upset him so. Now I feel guilty.
New goal: be a nice person.
Revised goal: be a nicer person.

At work I cook chickens. They go upright on a rack and I think they look like headless genies, floating in the air cross-legged. Covered in bbq salt. 

There's a really big sink for washing dishes. I am literally up to my shoulders in water when I try to reach the bottom. As I was doing this tonight, I contemplated weather or not it was possible for me to fall in. I believe that, if I was right on my tippy toes, trying to get something on the bottom that was very heavy, and there was an earthquake, there is a distinct possibly of me falling head first into the suds. That would be the worst ever.

People eat peaces of chopped ham in clear gelatin. It is called head cheese. One time I asked a customer (who had informed me that her husband used to be a butcher) what it was. 
"Oh it's the cheek of the cow," she replied, nonchalantly.
So it is as gross as I thought it was.
One time someone asked if we had it in buckets. Apparently it is best that way.