Sunday, Oily Sunday (or lack thereof)

I knew I was going to have a terrible shift when the meat fryer refused to turn on.

Both the veg fryers died a while ago. Now, when I say a while, I mean one has been waiting ‘for parts’ for well over a month and that’s probably an understatement. Things were bad enough with 1/2 our frying capacity but with 1/4? On a Sunday?

From the number of people that still insisted on eating in my place-of-work, I’m guessing the general population would be surprised at how much we fry. Especially on a Sunday. Of course, there’s always chips, but then there’s veggie burgers and sausages, chicken burgers and nuggets, onion rings, cod, plaice, scampi, prawns, fishcakes. I could go on, but I haven’t even got to the roast stuff yet – we’re talking potatoes, stuffing balls… OK, two things but they are two things we need a lot of and there’s only so much you can fit in one frying basket. It was a nightmare.

Why would people be so desperate for our fried/ microwaved food that they’d persist in knowingly waiting for 45 minutes for it? Could you really be that lazy and/ or cheap? Come on – how hard is it to make a roast? It’s not. And how much better would it be if you got off your fat arse and made it yourself? A lot. Trust me. I’ve seen that meat in its boil-in-the-bag – that’s not how meat should be.

So, do me a favour, potential customers – next time even the thought of thinking about coming to the-pub-where-I-work for food flits by your brain, crush it in your fist, go home and cook your own fucking dinner.

Especially if it’s Sunday.

(By the way, I deliberately withheld the name of both the company I work for and the pub because I’m sure they’d find a reason to fire me if I disclosed either. So, you’re just going to have to get a bit psychic when delivering that favour.)

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