In my local. Most competent member of staff looks like a maths teacher from my old school. He was considered the best but never taught me (may have avoided me to massage his stats). This reincarnated Dalai Lama of the McDonald’s workforce is the only server who doesn’t shout “yes” before the order number.
A circa. 7 year old girl is alternately pumping ketchup and BBQ sauce into the little paper thimbles and immediately binning them. One hand pumps. One dumps. Simultaneously. Stops just shy of double figures. She’s obviously hoping to be spotted by a scout for one of the local factories. Her idea of a drab grey workhouse dress is a multicoloured pyjama onesie with a turquoise base and featuring the full spectrum of colours plus some I’ve never seen before. Only thing in the venue more distracting is the screen with the orders. Each order number is repeated twice.
I have four choices:
- Say nothing as I collect my order, staring at the server one second longer than usual to fuel my suspicion that he might be the teacher’s son (this is the correct decision).
- Make light of the situation and say “Do I get two of everything haha?”
- Raise a formal ticket “Screen’s broken I think”.
- Test his professionalism and work out if he’s the real deal.
I choose option 4.
“Do I get two of everything haha?”
“Pardon?”, his brow furrowing more than it already was.
I use the deadly serious recovery tone usually reserved for when you’ve approached a woman but your first sentence hasn’t quite landed, “The screen”, I look up and point, “All the numbers are two” my sentence is both inaccurate and doesn’t make grammatical sense but I’m with a mathematician so know I could have just cavemanned and said “Problem”.
He can’t see the screen from his side so leaves his post and confidently strides through the saloon door like the Man with No Name.
I’m slightly nervous. There’s no counter between us. He’s a lion I’ve grown up with and trust but am still nervous to see it out of its enclosure for the first time. I’m relieved to see he wears trousers.
The moment he sees the TV he sighs like a man who’s had a momentary lapse of concentration and missed the page with the racing results he’d been waiting for all afternoon on teletext.
Most would grumble the following words under their breath. He doesn’t. The customer hears every word.
“I’ll get that fixed…” I give him half marks so far “… once I’ve dealt with these orders.” Full marks! Two problems. Two solutions. Correctly prioritised.
It’s a takeaway order so I don’t hang about. I leave satisfied. But I’m also worried we’ll lose him. He’s a foreman in the making… what if there was a scout there?