I’ve mentioned this guy Ogre before. He’s supposedly training to be a manager at my part-time job. I say “supposedly” because he’s been training for three months.
To run a shift at a pizza shop.
Which is like, the easiest job ever.
After three months of training for a position which quite clearly he is incapable of handling, Ogre gets his first unsupervised shift tomorrow morning (thank god I ain’t working).
I first managed a pizza shop years ago, for Domino’s corporate in Columbia. See, I bought a new car, and didn’t want to put a lot of miles on it. So I said, “Hi, can I be a manager?” And Scott, the district honcho, said “Sure, you start Monday.”
So I started managing on Monday. The shift manager was there to help me and show me the ropes. Tuesday night, at about ten, the shift manager shrugged, tossed me the store key, and said “I’m off to fuck my boyfriend. You’ll be alright.”
Contrast this to Ogre. It takes this jackass a full minute to make a large pepperoni pizza. Given three jobs to do one afternoon, it took him a full four hours (without customer interuption) to complete. He stares at the makeline monitor for a minute before beginning to make pizzas, and usually tops those pizzas incorrectly; he never repeats customer’s orders to them, usually meaning that part, most, or all of their order is wrong wrong wrong; whenever a comment is made to him, he will never allow it to brush off his shoulders when he could, instead, abandon whatever task he was trying to accomplish, and confront you directly.
Case in point: Friday night, when Steve asked Ross and Ogre to join him in the back. Ross is opening driver Sunday, but has been trained as an “emergency backup” shift manager in case Steve or Greg are out of town - and this is also why Ross was scheduled to be opening driver tomorrow. This was the backup plan, according to Steve - should things get busy (not likely), and Ogre was unable to keep up with the order volume, Ross would switch to inside, and Ogre would go on the road.
This is a sensible precaution, for any person new to the pizza buisness, or to the idioschincracies (I know, I spelled that wrong, but fuck you, you know what I mean) of an individual store. Had I been in Ogre’s shoes, I would’ve said: “We shaln’t need to implement Plan B, boss.”
Ogre, on the other hand, started screaming: “IT ISN’T EVEN SUNDAY YET AND ALREADY YOU THINK I’M GOING TO FUCK IT UP! FUCK YOU, MAN, WHAT THE FUCK?”
Yeah, Ogre, what the fuck?
He keeps saying, “I got this job in a week, I could get a job at another pizza shop in a week.”
Yeah, well, he got fired from Michael’s Pizza in Hereford, fired from Papa John’s (AFTER A WEEK!), and it really baffles the imagination that he hasn’t been fired from here yet. I don’t understand why he thinks the job of management will be easier somewhere else, but shit man … it won’t be.