Dear Ubiquitous Fast Food "Worker",
Upon reading your letter, an image came to mind. We have enclosed this image so that we didn't waste our time trying to explain something simple and basic.
With that out of the way, let us turn to the softer side of how we feel so that we may together get to the root of your problems allegedly beset upon you by us, the consumer.
We appreciate your comments and will work towards refining our collective behaviors. We'd like to apologize for the infractions you feel we've committed. We're also very sorry that you feel as you do, and sorry that you're fucking stupid to boot. It is easy to forget what it was like to be either mentally or physically in high school, and many of us at that time aspired to be more than a server or consumables in a low end franchise.
We can't help but wonder that if you feel so discontent, why did you actively choose this profession? Honestly, it matters not, as we do not empathize with your situation. We can only vaguely sympathize because we have better, more important things to do, such as get on with our lives after we depart from your "fine dining establishment."
You were correct that we have no desire to "upsize our conversation." We find it extremely difficult to intelligently converse with sub-standard automatons that need a picture system on their computers to place an order (and even then there is a 50% chance that 50% of the order will be correct). This aside, we'd like to take a few moments to express our own concerns and give response your listed points.
#1 It doesn't matter what you order, it's still unhealthy.
We're aware of this, but it is ridiculous to believe that we actually eat the food from your place of business becuase we think it's healthy. This is something one would expect a Romper Room reject to think. Since, for the most part, we're not said rejects, we wonder if it is in fact you who are the mentally challeneged baboon. We do not go to Burger King for the low fat, high vitamin content of the food.
The restaurant has been set up to cater to people who enjoy flavor and are out and about taking care of important things during the day. Despite what you may think, very few (and by very few, I mean 1) of us see going to McDonald's, Burger King, Wendy's, or Jack in the Box as a place to continue a diet. Believe it or not, there are some of us (again, by some I mean 1), who actually LIKE the flavor of Diet Coke. Despite your opinion, the facts indicate that a salad contains less fat than a Whopper, irrespective of what stupid idea you think you have. See, your employer saw fit to enlighten the general public to this fact by printing nutritional facts on the back of the tray mats. I understand that it is hard to see, but you've got to turn them over to read it (the tray mat, not the tray – turn it over not, upside down). Salad (sound it out) starts with an "S" (the letter between "R" and "T").
I do have a question though: If eating at your place of business is devastatingly unhealthy, why is it a large percentage of your patrons are healthier than those with whom you work?
If I were to make a guess, it would be that you and your co-workers are already lazy fucksticks and consume more of the garbage you serve at a higher frequency.
Please refrain from taking your fat aggressions out on us. I'm certain that on your off hours you squander your wages on insignificant items and activities that further degrade your social status (as did we when we were 10), but perhaps a bit of hygiene on your part would strengthen your argument in this area.
#2: Restrain your fucking kids.
We deeply apologize that our children act...like children. Many fast food places have designated areas in which our children can play and be active. If this bothers you, then we invite you to fuck yourselves sideways from Sunday. Once again, we did not choose your place of employment, nor did we choose the type of employment that you've sought out. Finally, should you choose to voice your opinion about the behavior of our children, we'll have no option but to dislocate your jaw from your greasy pock-marked fat little faces. This is an unwritten appurtenance that we collectively will adhere to. If there is any aspect of this letter you should trust, it is this (and if you don't, then you will in very short order).
#3 Stop paying in large denominations.
We'll agree that it can be taxing to figure out the change given from $50 on a $6.17 purchase. We understand that in short order it means that your register will run out of $1s and $5s. So motherfucking what. You've already expressed that you dislike our attendance anyway, and running out of small bills only means you get to hold up the line while trying to figure out what you're supposed to do about it. (I'm guessing there isn't a section in the training video or a set of picture instructions that indicate the proper measures to be taken?)
It appears that you've forgotten that industry in which you are employed. It is called the "service industry." Your job is to serve us, not the other way around. Irrespective of what denominations we pay (key word) for our "food," you are to receive the money and return to us the amount indicated on a screen. The powers that be have seen fit to entrust simple addition and subtraction to a several thousand dollar computer.
Don't be disheartened by the lack of trust your employer besets you, but realize that you are indeed, for all intents and purposes, an ass clown. 30% of the time (that's 3 out of every 10 people, or 30 out of every 100), you and your co-workers can't even read and count out the correct change to be given back to us, despite the large red and/or green numbers and the words "Change to be given" on the screen in front of you immediately after typing in the amount of money tendered. Some newer places even allow the register to spit out correct coinage so as not to confuse you, the "worker."
#4: We hate you.
Yes, we're also very aware of this. We suspect though, that you hate your own situations more than you hate us, but that's a result of your own stupidity, not ours. Remember YOU put YOU where you are.
Your demeanor and overall appearance makes this fact known. We hate you also. While we choose to dine in your establishemnt, we dine there for the food, not the people. Honestly, we could give a fuck if you were robots (we hope you will be replaced by robots one day). We don't hate your place of business, but would love to be able to deal with someone who has some semblance of intelligence beyond a special education retard. However, we must overcome this challenge and find it within ourselves to deal with you just as much as you must deal with us.
Statistics show that we greatly outnumber you, have less care for you than you lack for us. Now, to get more to the root of your issues, you've made it perfectly clear that you are unhappy. We're not totally sure that it is something that we can help you with, but we are sure that we won't help you with it. At some point in everyone's life they have held a job they dislike. Actually, it's sort of a life requirement. As we've stated, you chose your job, yet you continually show up to work and subject yourself to the fray. This seems...fucking retarded. It's akin to hitting yourself in the head with a hammer and then being mad at someone else because it hurts. Not only does that someone else not care, but most people would find it hilarious that your lack of insight and strategic thought process would continue to allow you to repeat these behaviors.
We understand that you'd like to have a job or at least a level of pay to match the alleged "bullshit" that you put up with. However, as a gentle reminder, we'd like to point to the food in which you serve us and ask: Does this hamburger look like the fucking picture on your menu? No, it doesn't. You can't put a piece of microwaved meat substance between two slices of amalgamated ploy bread, yet expect to be paid more or be introduced to a better job? Bitch, please.
You work in the only industry where the more you do the same task, the worse the resulting product is. To rehash and summarize our counter issues with you, we've compiled an easy to read list. Unfortunately, I didn't feel like taking time to place pictures next to them so I do expect that none of this will sink in.
- You are a fatter fuck than I am, so don't think that we're the idiot because we eat less of your food than you do.
- Stop giving incorrect change. If I pay for a $2 drink with a $20 bill, my 3 year old son can tell me that the change that's a total of $18 and should really not require a machine specifically designed to tell you the correct answer. For those of you who still need some help – a $10 bill, a $5 dollar bill and three (3) $1 dollar bills. Also, the idea of any of you forcibly getting me over your counter and anywhere near a deep fryer is laughable. A majority of you are either overweight or underweight, lending proof to the fact that you have acquired none of the assets to fulfill your threat. However, we would likewise introduce you to a proven fact it only takes 8 sq lbs of force to snap an elbow, and that an arm bar is more than sufficient to complete this very easy task.
- Leave our kids alone. The phrase "The most dangerous place in the world is between a parent and their child" will become painfully evident should you choose to make the futile attempt at taking care of our children for us. Last we checked, you were neither paid enough to handle us under those conditions nor does your employer offer benefits that cover several months in traction.
- You can't make a burger right, and move like old people fuck, yet have no idea why you can't get a better job. Are you really that fucking stupid? (Rhetorical question).
We don't want to end this by making you feel as though we don't care (even though we don't). So, here's a tip to help you achieve:
Set goals for yourself!
Right now you might be a lowly mop handler, but mop that floor like it was your job (chances are it is). Put your nose to the grind and make sure that you never hear "you missed a spot." Mop when it needs to be done, like when we drop our warm milkshake on the floor after one of your clumsy servers hands off an overloaded tray with said topless milkshake balanced on the corner. Soon you'll get a shiny button letting everyone know that you handle a mop with god-like authority.
After that, you might move up to the fry machine beep stopper (though this entails actually removing the fires from the hot grease and not just merely pressing the button to make the beeping cease - remember, golden brown, not goldenvblack). No one likes that annoying beeping coming from burning undersalted fries. It'll be your job to ensure that our fries come out that succulent golden brown with the exact amount of salt needed (and not the amount that stops the heart of an African Elephant three trimes over), to make us secretly believe that there is added crack cooked in. Everyone will want fries with that once you get that down pat.
I'm sure that from here you can piece together the ladder to success, but the key is to take baby steps. However you could also just get a better job (though that requires you actually get a general education and get off of your fat asses and assert yourselves).
Snickering at your pain behind your back and pointing and laughing in your pimply fat face,
People Whom You Serve
P.S. If it offers any condolence (which we hope it doesn't), we want you with your job as much as you want you with your job - not at all.
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