Place blame where blame is due

It’s bad bob day at the airport. But really, is there such a thing as a good bob?

How do you cross train a cashier that’s only had two day’s experience as a cashier ever?

Customer: I want a brisket and turkey platter.
Me: I’m out of turkey.
Customer: Like I said, a brisket platter.

Don’t get shitty with me because your card doesn’t work. See, everyone else’s does, so place blame where blame is due.

Customer: Can I basically get a brisket and sausage platter?
Me: Like a platter with two meats?

How do you order extra meat, and then bitch about it being more expensive?

If I just told the guy before you there’s no turkey, do you really think it’s changed now?

“Can I get a brisket sandwich, no bun, but coleslaw instead?”

You know it’ll be a stupid day when three passengers tell you it’s okay to go ahead of them in the security line.

“Y’all don’t have any cups of water?” Here’s why it’s wrong. See, it’s not “can’t I have a,” or “do you have a.” What you’re implying is I should have pre-made cups sitting around.

 

“You don’t have any iced tea, do you?”

I ask everyone for an ID for beer. It’s my job, you fuck. I don’t care how pissed it makes you.

I hate the phrase, “You don’t have any iced tea, do you?”

Me: Beans, coleslaw, or potato salad?
Customer: Oh no, I don’t want all of those.

“Do you have the same potato salad as the other restaurant?” Same restaurant, same food.

If Bill Clinton gained 20 pounds and had a sex change, it would look just like that man.

What’s with the cross-eyed bitches today?

If you name your kid Walley, you know he’s ending up a computer nerd.

At what point do you honestly forget you’re in an airport?

If your friend orders a combo and you don’t, you don’t get what he got.

Go get addicted to crack and die in a gutter needing a fix.

 

Ugly bitches stick together

Hitler also had a comb over.

Who really sags in boxer briefs?

Ugly bitches stick together.

This bitch looks like a boston terrier.

Don’t tuck in turtle necks.

Damn girl, look at that body.

I love blondes.

You have ugly ears.

“I’ll take a pepsi drink.”

Your wife is busted.

Forgetful old bitches.

 

Stop trying to explain and pay.

Who the fuck wears roman sandals with socks?

If you’ve got a fanny pack’s worth of fat above your pussy, don’t wear stretch pants.

Damn bitch, you look like the small footed guy on Eight Crazy Night.

A platter without sides is the same as a sandwich with no bread. It’s a definitive factor.

Damn lady, you are all the beauty of Zion.

Stop trying to explain and pay.

Two stewardesses just took five minutes to figure out how to split $6.57 in half.

Damn you white trash bitch, this is the airport not walmart. Wear a bra, saggy ass.

Okay guy, you got me stumped. If you don’t work for the airline, then why the fuck are you wearing a jumpsuit.

Okay, stop saying I need this and that because you’re getting on a plane. It’s a fucking airport!

 

You have to get your own napkins

You stupid fucks can’t do a thing right today.

“I would just like a whole sausage.” That’s what she said.

Dumb bitch of the day: “Does the sandwich come with bread?”

I want y’all to die.

That guy just said pickles offend his mouth.

English just sounds ugly out of a Chinese mouth.

No fucker, you have to get your own napkins.

How you gonna name your kid Margarita?

Okay. Never put your face over my register.

You get that fat, never see your dick situation by ordering large drinks.

 

I’m not a fuckin’ barista.

Women know the fuck where your money is in them big ass purses.

Customer: How do you make the potato salad?
Me: With BBQ sauce.
Customer: Oh that can’t be good.

5:53AM: “Are you serving breakfast now?”

When I call out the order to my cook there’s really no need for you to agree with me.

Oh I knew the cute old lady would have a name like Beverly.

I think naming your boy Robin is as bad as Sue.

Dumb fuck of the day: “Are the Corona bottles bigger than the other bottles?”

Seriously what’s a kid’s size? I’ve seen a six year old out eat a grown man.

Even if I did serve coffee at 5 o’clock, I wouldn’t put milk in it. I’m not a fuckin’ barista.

I don’t think one man should wink at another man.

 

It’s true I don’t hate you as much when you’re pretty.

It’s true I don’t hate you as much when you’re pretty.

Take the shit you ask for. Chips, beer, drinks. I get then down, you take them. I don’t bring them to you. I’m not a fuckin’ waiter.

Putting foundation over your giant mole just makes it a giant foundation covered mole.

Should I throw it away because you’re too incompetent?

By definition you can’t have extra lean.

“Where do I order?” Seriously? The register on the big fuckin’ screen that says touch to order.

You passive fuckin’ sheep of a person. If you need something and I’m doing something, use your fuckin’ words.

If you had a stupid kid, would you name your kid Ty so they could be guaranteed to graduate kindergarten?

Listen you worn out bitch, you’re 50+ years old. You go to the tanning bed one more time, you’ll be leather.

I know I bitch about people’s inability to order food correctly rather often on here, but let me explain. A deaf man walks up, signals that he’s deaf, so I hand him a piece of paper and a pen to write his order. He writes “brisket sandwich,” so I write $9.69, and he pays. Then he starts honking at me and pointing at the drink machine and the chips. Seriously the dumb fuck wanted a combo. How the fuck do you fuck up writing an order?

 

Shave the unibrow.

Dude’s name was Thor.

Her hair’s so shiny.

Don’t lean over my register.

Shave the unibrow.

Fish eyed bitch.

Stop fuckin’ whisperin’

It’s ugly sweater day.

Fuck. Brush your teeth.

Oh shit. Crazy eyed bitch.

Flats aren’t dress shoes.

Looks like someone shrunk her head.

 

If your beans spill it’s not my problem.

Damn you walk off a Nazi poster?

I hate that moment when the chick talks and it’s not okay.

If your beans spill it’s not my problem.

Bill Cosby wants his sweater back.

If you can’t find a fork, then you can’t find a fork.

That lady just listened to me deal with that stuck up teen bitch, and referred to me as an angel for dealing with it.

If your lesbian lover looks exactly like you, wouldn’t it be less stressful to fuck yourself?

Obviously you didn’t get a combo. You didn’t pay enough, you didn’t order it, and I didn’t sell it to you. Simple. Really.

Don’t be that bitch that takes just long enough to find your money when buying an individual drink that the next fuck comes up to order.

Dumb bitch of the day:
Customer: Is that brisket?
Me: Yes.
Customer: That right there?
Me: Brisket.
Customer: Oh, I’ll take that.
Me: How do you want it?
Customer: Brisket.
Me: How do you want it? Platter, sandwich, or side?
Customer: I want that meat.
Me: A sandwich?
Customer: No.
Me: Platter?
Customer: No.
Me: Side then?
Customer: Yes. So how much do I get?
Me: 3oz for $4.
Customer: How many slices is that?
Me: It’s 3oz.
Customer: So a slice?
Me: Like three slices.
Customer: Okay I’ll do that then.
Me: So just 3oz of brisket?
Customer: Yes.
Me: Okay your number’s 43. Pick it up over there.
I couldn’t lie about this if I wanted to. Bitch walks over to my cook when she’s cutting her order for her, and changes her order to turkey.

 

Use your fuckin’ words.

Girl you keep worshipin’ Disney, you’ll always be a virgin.

Me: Brisket, sausage, or turkey?
Customer: Does that mean I get a choice?

First thing to know about not pissin’ your cashier off, face your fuckin’ money.

Seriously pay to get you highlights professionally done. This streaky, out of the box, drunken ideas situation is not okay.

This ho hum, depressed emo attitude makes me want to reach out and slap the shit outta someone. What, your Pandora didn’t play two songs in a row you liked? Go cut yourself.

Okay here’s an easy one, in the middle of paying for your food, don’t answer your cell phone.

Take your earbuds out to talk to me.

If skin is flaking off you face, use lotion or don’t go out the house.

You’re a 20 year old in a suit. I’m not treating you like what you are, a kid in your daddy’s suit. Go sort mail or some shit.

Use your fuckin’ words. You’re not six. You’re not my kid. You’re not a fuckin’ animal.