Dear Customer, It's Not Me, It's You

I work in fast food in a college town.
Most of our customers are students.
If you are one of them, this is for you:


I hate you for standing in line for 10 minutes without thinking about what you want.

I can see the inside of your nostrils while you stand in front of the counter. If you must still crane your neck to look at the menu when you finally make it to the front of the line (see #1) stand back a little, or at least have the decency to trim your nose hairs.

Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhh... is NOT A WORD in the English language, and there is no key for it on my screen. Leave it out.

If you order "a burger, fries, and a drink," it becomes "Cashier's Choice" and you do not have the right to get angry when I decide for you what you want. In other words, be specific. We offer ridiculous names and numbers for our food. Choose one. The correct one. Which leads us to this...

If you order by number, you are ordering a meal. If you want "just the sandwich," then just order the damned sandwich. Conversely, if you want the entire meal, order that. And that meal is probably a sandwich that comes with fries and a drink. Like at nearly every other fast food restaurant, ever.
If there are options, they're on the damned menu. The one you probably didn't bother to look at while you were standing, for ten minutes, in line.

I take approximately 3 orders a minute when I'm at the cash register during the rush "period", which typically lasts all freaking day. So, if you make me ask you what size, flavor, or topping you prefer (when there is a painfully obvious choice), don't mind that I am staring though you as though I am trying to kill you with my laser-vision. I AM trying to kill you with my laser-vision, but it hasn't worked on anyone, yet.

When you try to pay me, have some idea what kind of payment you want to use, because I don't. I don't know if you have the meal plan, or what kind of meal plan you have, or whether you want to pay with cash or if you accidentally handed me your student ID when you meant to hand me your MasterCard.

The hours regarding meal plan are given to you online, at orientation, on paper somewhere, I'm sure. Even if they weren't, it is your responsibility to know what you have and how you are permitted to use it. I might overlook your incompetence if you didn't eat here EVERY SINGLE DAY.

I don't care what kind of conversation you are having on your cell phone. If what is happening on the other end of the connection truly is of life-or-death importance, then you should probably wait before you order your food. If you cannot wait, I will help you out by waiting on the person directly behind you who is NOT on their cell phone.
Also, if I am not looking you in the eye, I am not yet ready to take your order. This means the machine may still be printing out a receipt from the order I took just fifteen seconds before you stepped up to the counter, or the register is thinking about crashing again, or it has crashed again. If I'm not looking at you, I'm not hearing you.

Don't toss your change on the counter, or hand me the "wad" of crumpled ones. It makes me wish horrible rashes upon your most personal and delicate parts. The food may do that anyway, but I still wish it for extra measure.

Sometimes, we screw up. We will fix it, and we will be polite about the whole thing if you will. We do genuinely feel bad about wasting your time until you act like a raging asshole. Then we fix your order, but we mock you without mercy when you leave. Okay, we usually wait for you to leave.

Don't leave your garbage on the counter, it's just rude. Were you raised, or spawned?

Remember, at all times, that you are not nearly as cute and charming as you think you are. It might work on 19 year old girls, or your high-school science teacher, or your new college professor (although I doubt it, as they look pretty jaded, too), but it doesn't work on me. I can't stand you.
 
I hate that all of you,
term after term after painful FUCKING term,
are exactly the same.