Tim Horton's coffee is laced with crack.
This will be my last post of the day because I have a lot of important drinking to do tonight.
New on HRDC: two call centre jobs in Woodstock; clerk at a craft store in the soon-to-be-dead Brookside Mall; public health nurse (what did I just say...?); another babysitting job; cashier at Tim Horton's. Been there, done that. I may as well recount the horrors of the summer I spend selling soup to old people in the Regent Mall food court:
You can't tell from the uber-cute avatar I use as my profile pic, but I have a piercing in my upper lip. When I was given the honour of slinging Tim Horton's coffee for $5.90/hr, they made me wear a fucking band-aid over it, making it look like I had a moustache. Seriously. I don't know why I didn't tell the manager to go fuck herself right then and there... I probably needed money for beer and cigarettes or something. Anyway, the band-aid also caused random customers to take me asside and ask if my boyfriend hit me. HEY ASSHOLE: IT'S NONE OF YOUR GODDAMN BUSINESS WHAT I DO ON MY OWN TIME! Now go eat your blueberry fritter and leave me the fuck alone.
The assistant manager was a fundamentalist Christian who clearly hated me from the very beginng. Whenever the manager was looking for somebody to do a shitty job nobody wanted, she always volunteered me. Even the other people I worked with noticed that she treated me differently. Look, I realize that the fact that I drink, smoke, dye my hair and *gasp* wear pants offends your Christian sensibilities, but grow the fuck up and show some professionalism.
When I was hired as a Timmy Whore, I was promised at least 35 hours every week, but most of the time I was lucky if I got 20, making it really difficult to get groceries after I bought liquor and smokes. My solution to the problem was to take home a couple of grocery bags worth of donuts, muffins and bagels at night after the store closed. I also used to give some of the food to my friends who were either unemployed or working at other types of shitty jobs. (Tip: if you're poor, it pays to have friends in the food service industry. I don't know about you, but I get sick of Mr. Noodles and Our Compliments Kraft Dinner pretty damn quick.) Anyway, this is very much against the rules at Tim Horton's; donuts that were for sale to the public 1 minute before closing are unsafe to eat 1 minute after closing, so you can't take them home, nor can you give them to the homeless shelter. Makes sense to me.
I also happened to be working the afternoon and evening of 9/11. I don't know what it is about Tim Horton's coffee, but I'm beginning to suspect that there's some agent in it which causes frequent consumers to become equal parts ignorant and obnoxious. Starbucks coffee, on the other hand, causes people to become smug and self-absorbed, but that's neither here nor there. Anyway, I had to smile and nod at all manner of idots comming in saying stuff like "They should just round up all them A-rabs, then kill 'em all and let God sort 'em out".
Anyhoo, to make a long story a little bit longer, it eventually came to one of those situations where I could either quit, or would be fired for my donut-liberating ways. I came in for my 6-hour shift one afternoon, having spent the previous 6 hours on campus attending university classes, and said to the shift supervisor, "I can't keep doing this. I'll work today, and if you can't find somebody to cover my shift on Thursday I'll come in for that too, but I'm out of here at the end of the week". She said, "I can work your Thursday shift if you want." and that was the end of that. Except when I went in a few weeks later to pick up my official Record of Employment: it said that I had been fired because I didn't show up for a shift, so as to ensure I couldn't collect any unemployment benefits. Motherfuckers.
New on HRDC: two call centre jobs in Woodstock; clerk at a craft store in the soon-to-be-dead Brookside Mall; public health nurse (what did I just say...?); another babysitting job; cashier at Tim Horton's. Been there, done that. I may as well recount the horrors of the summer I spend selling soup to old people in the Regent Mall food court:
You can't tell from the uber-cute avatar I use as my profile pic, but I have a piercing in my upper lip. When I was given the honour of slinging Tim Horton's coffee for $5.90/hr, they made me wear a fucking band-aid over it, making it look like I had a moustache. Seriously. I don't know why I didn't tell the manager to go fuck herself right then and there... I probably needed money for beer and cigarettes or something. Anyway, the band-aid also caused random customers to take me asside and ask if my boyfriend hit me. HEY ASSHOLE: IT'S NONE OF YOUR GODDAMN BUSINESS WHAT I DO ON MY OWN TIME! Now go eat your blueberry fritter and leave me the fuck alone.
The assistant manager was a fundamentalist Christian who clearly hated me from the very beginng. Whenever the manager was looking for somebody to do a shitty job nobody wanted, she always volunteered me. Even the other people I worked with noticed that she treated me differently. Look, I realize that the fact that I drink, smoke, dye my hair and *gasp* wear pants offends your Christian sensibilities, but grow the fuck up and show some professionalism.
When I was hired as a Timmy Whore, I was promised at least 35 hours every week, but most of the time I was lucky if I got 20, making it really difficult to get groceries after I bought liquor and smokes. My solution to the problem was to take home a couple of grocery bags worth of donuts, muffins and bagels at night after the store closed. I also used to give some of the food to my friends who were either unemployed or working at other types of shitty jobs. (Tip: if you're poor, it pays to have friends in the food service industry. I don't know about you, but I get sick of Mr. Noodles and Our Compliments Kraft Dinner pretty damn quick.) Anyway, this is very much against the rules at Tim Horton's; donuts that were for sale to the public 1 minute before closing are unsafe to eat 1 minute after closing, so you can't take them home, nor can you give them to the homeless shelter. Makes sense to me.
I also happened to be working the afternoon and evening of 9/11. I don't know what it is about Tim Horton's coffee, but I'm beginning to suspect that there's some agent in it which causes frequent consumers to become equal parts ignorant and obnoxious. Starbucks coffee, on the other hand, causes people to become smug and self-absorbed, but that's neither here nor there. Anyway, I had to smile and nod at all manner of idots comming in saying stuff like "They should just round up all them A-rabs, then kill 'em all and let God sort 'em out".
Anyhoo, to make a long story a little bit longer, it eventually came to one of those situations where I could either quit, or would be fired for my donut-liberating ways. I came in for my 6-hour shift one afternoon, having spent the previous 6 hours on campus attending university classes, and said to the shift supervisor, "I can't keep doing this. I'll work today, and if you can't find somebody to cover my shift on Thursday I'll come in for that too, but I'm out of here at the end of the week". She said, "I can work your Thursday shift if you want." and that was the end of that. Except when I went in a few weeks later to pick up my official Record of Employment: it said that I had been fired because I didn't show up for a shift, so as to ensure I couldn't collect any unemployment benefits. Motherfuckers.
posted by Mary at 7:12 p.m.
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