My boss knows.
Apparently, he googled “Harrison Grille” and found my post on my first day. (That’s why I’ll be spelling it “Harris0n Gr1lle” from now on.) I was a little worried that I’d get in trouble like some sort of Google blogger, but Eric seems to be entertained especially by the flow chart. He says I’m the “opposite of fired”. I’m not sure exactly what that means, but hopefully, I get two paychecks now.
So my first time on shakes wasn’t so good. But I’m pretty determined to improve. It’s rewarding but busy. I occupied a position akin to the soda jerk of olde. There’s something empowering about pouring a milkshake while “We Are the Champions” comes up on the radio. Of course, things always get crazy busy and I have to wash chocolate syrup from places on my body that I’d never expect to get chocolate on accidentally.
Milkshakes sound easy, right?
Problem: The time machine is broken and the ice cream is really, really frozen. We don’t mess around. Or cheat and use softserve like other places. We scoop all of it, add cream and syrups. My forearms are getting huge from the scooping in combination with handling the fry baskets.
When DJ turned the radio to classical music, I felt like a ballerina. Pirouetting around from the mixer to the finishing area where I would grab the whip cream can, give it a couple of shakes, a mad dash to the front window after plucking the receipt from above the sink. Dodging the coworker holding a pan full of half cheesed pizzas and the other with the cake knife. Then the music was switched back to Metallica and I felt like a mosh-pitter again .
I like the random lolcat references sprinkled here and there. Like the “Innbocks” in the back office. Or this.
One day, one of the supervisors ran into the kitchen from the front. Apparently he had a mishap involving nachos because he was clutching his hand and screamed,
“AHH! IT’S LIKE CHEESY NAPALM!!”