Current mood:	amused
Current music:	Rammstein - Amerika

I love my job
Hey!

This is my first post here... though I do lurk and comment on rare occasion.

I have an entertaining tale for all of you... Just too good to keep to myself.

I, and my roomie, both work at Sonic Drive-In... Fortunately--or perhaps un--this story didn't happen to me--it happened to my roomie.

Brace yourself, boys and girls.

As told by my roomie:

Hello, everyone. My name is Rohan and I work full time at the fast food restaurant, Sonic. If you aren't familiar with it, it employs poor individuals called 'carhops' to bring orders out to customers while they sit in their cars or on the patios. I have worked as one such for far longer than I care to scar my mind with at the moment, and tend to run into all sorts of (in my opinion) ignorant, clumsy, rusty-minded, moronic, and generally incompetant weirdos most every day. This is one of my better stories. :]

Today I took out an order to a little black truck. Crammed inside, like a pack of dirty sardines in a rusty tin, were a slightly smelly man, his overweight wife, their older daughter, and a little boy. Before I could even get a greeting out, the man asks me if I "have a pen on me." I know what that means, thinking to my self, "Oh. He's got a check, but the dumbass doesn't have a pen for whatever reason. I'm going to have to stand here while he writes out the check (even though we're having a rush at the moment) while he puzzles his way through writing it out. Wonderful." So I give him all of his food, hand him his reciept, and he asks for my pen. I give him the pen and tell him the total is $16.18.

He takes the pen, takes his check book, looks at them for a moment, holds them out in my direction saying "Here ya go."
This has actually never happened before, and I'm honestly slightly suprised. So I say, "I'm sorry sir?"
He says, "I need you to fill this out for me."
I'm 99% sure I'm not supposed to do that. On top of that, he can do it his damn self, this isn't part of my job. I politely reply, "I'm sorry sir, I can't really do that."
He pauses, then, "But I need you to fill this out for me."
"No sir, I'm sorry. I can't fill out a check for a customer."
He kinda looks downward at his Scooby-Doo checkbook for a moment, then states unconvincingly, "Well, maybe I can do it." He writes the 16.18 into its little rectangle, signs his name and then proceeds to inquire: "Sonic. S-o-n-c-e, right?"
Still smiling politely, I correct him, "No sir. S-o-n-i-c." (We do have numerous signs, incuding one of those huge 50ft tall logo ones, if you're wondering)
"Oh. S (long pause) o (long pause) n (long pause) i (long pause) c. Okay." He pauses for a moment, looks down at the check book and then holds it out to me once more. "There, can you write in that middle part for me?"
And to which I reinterate, "No sir, I'm sorry. I can't fill in your check for you. They won't allow me to do that."
At which point, his wife chimes in with, "Hey, I don't think they'll let him fill that out for you, dear."
He kinda mumbles "Oh." while gazing at the floorboard, or possibly something no normal human can see, then says, "Maybe I can get it. Does anyone in here know how to spell 'sixteen' and 'eighteen'?" looking hopefully around the cab at his wife and kids.
At which point his wife proceeds to laboriously spell out 'sixteen' while he writes it down, letter by letter. He looks at it for a moment, "Don't there need to be something else on this thing?"
His wife, helpful once again, "Yeah. You gotta write 'no hundreds' on there."
His only response to that is a blank stare that lasts a few seconds, after which she instructs him to just put on there what she describes, which consists of "a little line" followed by "an n, an o an a 1-0-0 and an 18 for the change."
And after they have sucessfully completed that to their satisfaction, I mention that I need two phone numbers and a driver's liscense number before I can accept the check. The actual completion of such takes well over three minutes total (I stealthily timed them), with a couple of retries, despite the convenient usage of his driver's license for a reference. This, my friends, was the final result: