Oh shift meal, why have you forsaken me? Each day when I arrive at work, I look to the heavens and ask that today be the day I am given something I truly want to eat for a meal rather than the usual bucket of slop that is placed before me. I smile at the kitchen crew as I punch in and I offer them cold beverages in the hope that they will return my act of kindness with a bowl of macaroni and cheese instead of a bowl of macaroni and fuck it. As my sidework nears completion and I find my eyes glancing towards the window to see if they have bestowed upon us our daily meal, I try not to get my hopes up that there will be a hamburger waiting for me.
At last, I see Juan setting our plates in the window, his face beaming with pride over his creation. At least, it appears that his face is prideful, but after today’s meal, I think that may be a face of vengeance. I hesitantly approach the line to see what wonders await me and hopeful that today will be the day I am not disappointed, scared and angered by what appears on my plate, but today is like every other day.
Oh, dear God, what the fuck is that? I recognize chicken and pasta, swimming in a bowl of red. The very sight of the wing answers the age old question of why the chicken crossed the road. It was to get the fuck away from Juan. Was the wing broiled? Boiled? Microwaved? I have no idea. The sauce appears to be one of a cheesy marinara nature, but one taste proves otherwise. It tastes like it was made by squeezing the liquid from a dish rag that had just been used to clean up the menstrual accident of a pygmy rhinoceros in the throes of birthing triplets. The pasta only dreams of being al dente when, in fact, it is much closer to al dead-te. The amount of oil in the bowl is enough to moisturize a small colony of dry-skinned people who live in some arid climate far, far away. I have seen more life-like skin on leather bags at thrift stores than I am seeing on this chicken.
“Thank you, Juan,” I say.
“Fuck you, Juan, “ I think.
Sadly, I retreat to Table 16 to look at my bowl of food and give thanks that I have a Cliff bar in my locker. Yes, it’s a free meal and I should be thankful for it. I know there are children who are starving in other countries who would be grateful for this bowl of boiled chicken wing and pasta with sauce of disgust, but those kids aren’t here right now. If they were, I would gladly feed them this food, honestly, I would. But they aren’t here and I have only one choice and that is to take a few courtesy bites of this shift meal so as not to hurt Juan’s feelings, although he hurts mine almost every day when he feeds me gruel. After I have forced down a piece of pasta and I make sure that no one is around to see me, I pick up my plate and head to the dish-room where it is deposited into the garbage.
This is a regular occurrence, but today, I took a video to so you can fully understand my daily battle with my shift meal. Tomorrow is another day and maybe it will be the one that brings me a simple grilled cheese with french fries or a voucher for a slice of pizza from next door.
Sharon
Oh my goodness! This is just… WOW!
You are supposed to show up for work shower, shaven, and smiling.
You are then paid $2.60 an hour, and told to keep smiling if you want to get any more money than that.
Then if you get hungry during your shift working at a place that has a BOAT LOAD of good food, you are then given a bowl of chicken bones, chicken skin, and a handful of pasta that looks like tiny little mouths full of sputum???? Oh, and don’t forget to keep smiling… !!!! That picture has given me goose bumps on my arms that look just like that chicken skin.
Oh, the humanity. Is there a rule about bringing your own food into the restaurant if you are going to give it to the wait staff???
Jack
Substitute the wings for half a hot dog and you have my shift meal in a 5 star French restaurant in the late 1980’s
Christy
I think you have something wrong with your keyboard because you repeatedly typed “Shift Meal” and there’s certainly an extra “f” in that first word.
Wait, even with that correction there’s still something really wrong because the word “meal” implies food and that shit was decidedly NOT food. Let me think…
Oh, did you type this on a malfunctioning keyboard while you were incredibly drunk and you meant to type “seal” instead. Wait, “Shit Seal” doesn’t make sense…
Got it! I’m thinking you may be a drunk dyslexic banging away on a malfunctioning keyboard and truly meant to type “Seal Shit”.
Although in some horrible game of “what would you rather” between that picture and seal shit, I’m pretty sure I’d choose to eat the latter!
Parvati
“It tastes like it was made by squeezing the liquid from a dish rag that had just been used to clean up the menstrual accident of a pygmy rhinoceros in the throes of birthing triplets.” BEYOND Hilarious-!! Love it!! But seriously, yeah that’s pretty disgusting and fucked up.
Barreleh
HILARIOUS description. The picture looks like something you’d get at a restaurant in some Asian country’s poorest village.
Laurie
LMAO!!! What the FUCK is that???? I have to pay for my meal (@ half price) and I have no problems with that after seeing what you get for free. Lol. That shit looks, well, bad. REALLY bad. Thanks for the laugh.
Karen
That honestly looks better than our regular “Chicken Nugget Salad” drenched in ranch dressing…all the leftover near expiration kids chicken fingers from all the kids who don’t come into our restaurant (for the most part) cut up and tossed into a bowl of wilty lettuce and smothered in dressing…Mmmmmmmmmm….not so much.
Josh
Great site! This post raises a question, though: how is it that your blog doesn’t say much about restaurant cooks? After all, servers interact with cooks a good deal. I’m sure you must have many amusing stories about them. Or perhaps you fear that if you reveal what goes on in restaurant kitchens, everyone who reads this site will swear off dining out for life?
KarmaKat
When I was a server we could pick anything off the menu under a certain dollar amount. I haven’t been a server for 15 years. Is this the norm now? Shift-meal surprise? Like really, why not give you your burger or mac and cheese. I don’t get it. At least it serves to give all of us devoted Bitchy-Waiter fans regular laughs.
LauraM
That was very….descriptive. And I quote ” it tastes like the liquid from a dishrag used to clean the menstrual accident of a pygmy rhinoceros birthing triplets”….I could almost taste it. Lol
LG
Thank you for another good laugh!!!
Hippie's Chick
Gag me
Graeme
I must say that one of the good parts of working at McDonald’s is choosing my own shift meal…especially after hearing the sound that that monstrosity made as it left the dish and entered the bin…
Mag Mel
“Oh dear God, what the fuck is that?” ROARING! LOL.
Bring your own lunch, or can you get a discount on a lunch?