I have a job at a bakery called Panera Bread. At Panera Bread we make salads, think about that for a moment… Moving on, I make fancy salads that cost more than what I make in an hour for people who are stupid enough to buy a fancy salad. The vast majority of the customers who come to order food from the bakery manage to have jobs that allow them to buy a BMW as a winter car car, yet they have major difficulties with the slightest of obstacles. Panera uses those terrifying little buzzy things handed out at Red Lobster that are shaped like a drink coaster, have a V-12 engine in them, and flash with laser LEDS that tell you when your table is ready.
The funny thing about it is that we do not seat our customers, they just plop their asses wherever, we use them to tell them when their fancy salad is done. Once again, at a bakery. Anyway, having this in mind when you get one, you have to prepare by thinking to yourself “Okay, this thing will go off, it is going to scream at me and then attempt blind me, but I will not jump, or freak out because I know it is going to scream at me and cause irreversible retinal damage” then you sit down and are looking at the lady two tables over from you with what looks like another lady coming out of her abdomen, but in reality it is just fat. Then you jump and freak out because the motorcycle from Tron starts having a spasm in your hand. After calming down from that incident a regular customer comes up to main line, picks up their salad and deposits their little hellspawn into a large basket labeled PAGER RETURN. The problem is that our customers cannot be bothered with such mundane trifles such as this. So after an hour of making hundreds of salads we have a tiny mountain of terrifying sci-fi death bombs that are covering the counter.
If there is one thing that rich people love more than a fancy salad it would probably be having a good old fashion seizure when grabbing a plate of food. At least once on every one of my shifts a customer will just sort of lose control of any one of their limbs and send it flying. The best case scenario is that they hit the basket for pager return, which just so happens to be empty. Of course fate is rarely as kind, most often a customer’s unwieldy arms will swing into a pager and send it splashing into some of our food. Keep in mind that these little abominations have been taken into bathrooms, held by sticky children and fondled by sweaty men. Enjoy your fancy salads.
