Workplace Hell Hole

So, you wanna hear confessions, huh? Ok, here's two that I have been keeping a secret because it happens at a place I used to work at, and I don't want to say the name of the location because these f#ckers could get mad, and I might get in trouble. So, I'll call the workplace "Hell hole food place" I worked in the kitchen as a food prep. One of the perks about working in the kitchen was many hot guys coming in and out all the time. But, there were times it was so slow that time felt like it had stopped or would run so quiet, and since we couldn't stand around, we would have to find things to do.

And I would, I would sweep, take food temperatures, and I would purposely put quarters on the floor just to watch the guys bend over and pick up the quarters. Ok, so it cost me about ten dollars a week, but it was worth it. So I guess you could say I was helping the servers on a slow day.

But wait, there is more. Banquets and buffets are a big deal at this place. So, an hour after the "Hell hole food place" would finish, all the food would go into the walk-in refrigerator to be picked and get thrown away. Then, I would go to the sections in the walk-in refrigerator and eat as many cookies, cupcakes, and other pastries as I could. I would try to hide some of the food in sections to take home.

Hell, there were times I would put them inside my bra. I hated when the crumbs would fall out into my bra, super itchy and cold. Plus, my breast looked funny, like one boob was more enormous and pointier while the other boob looks soggy or flat. There were times my boobs would be so far apart because of all the desserts I was taking that I think you could have parked your car in between my breasts.

One time one of the managers that were a total @$$hole, (yes, he was, and I can't use his name even though I would love to express what a useless abortion of nature he is, so I will just use his initials J.W. and the word @SShole as his last name) J.W. @$$hole walks in I pretend I was looking for something. I was chewing my cookie fast. J.W. @$$hole asked me what I was doing. He knows I hate him so, I respond by looking at him with an annoyed look and respond, "What am I doing? I'm hunting wabbit!" He wasn't amused, so; I walked out while he was talking. It may sound like I was stealing. But, to be honest, I was only doing that because anything left was thrown out instead of giving it away to the employees or staff. So, if you think I was stealing. I want to believe I was taking my share.

So, there were my confessions. I am glad I no longer work at that job. I was not too fond of it. The pay was minimum wage, the company expected you to buy the kitchen essentials that you need to work with, and they don't remember your name or call you by someone else's name. The hours suck, the management was and still is full of "Pinked toe, yellow liver, noise picked, buck-tooth stupid, idiotic, bone-head, pencil neck, I-guess-you're-not-as-smart-as-you-look, insecure, psychopath, lunatic, bitches” yes, I am serious, and no I'm not joking.

I really hated that damn job. But, it was a great place to get material for stories. Don't get me wrong. The site has good food, and the male servers are still good-looking as the dessert menu, you know, "sweet and delicious" like a slice of chocolate cake, cheesecake, and ice cream.