a day in the life of food service

So, many of you know that I work in food service. We sell a few things, but the menu is fairly small, maybe fifteen items. It's also beyond cheap and unbelievably delicious. It is an easy to read menu. Large pictures, large words, large prices. Simple. Or it should be.

We have many regulars - they come in every single day (or close to it) and order exactly the same thing. I love these people. They know what they want, how they want it, and they know the exact dollar amount that their order will come to. They understand that we do not take any form of card payment, and they have their money ready when they get to the counter. They are always pleasant, they always ask how my day is going (and I ask about theirs), they do not hold up the line, they do not make things complicated. They are wonderful customers.

Then we have the families. I don't mean the 'mom, dad and baby in a stroller' family. I mean the 'mom, dad, six sons and twelve daughters' family. They come in two packages. The family that has their shit together and the family that is a complete jumble of fuckin madness. Shit together family stands in a line. The children are prepared with their orders and they order one at a time, and then step out of the way so the next child can order. The parents do not let them interrupt each other, and I can successfully take a large order. Fuckin madness family has no idea what is going on. Kids are screaming different items at me, parents are vetoing some items and tacking on others. By the end of the order I feel like my head is going to explode and the receipt looks like an 18 foot long mess, with items added, removed, added again and removed again. I feel like I've been through a battle, and when everyone finally has their food, I'm sure I deserve a raise.

For example, I had a family of four at my register yesterday. They wanted to order a whole pizza and drinks. This should be easy. They order the pizza - check. The daughter (who appears to be in charge) orders one smoothie and three sodas. She confers with her father and sisters. She turns back. Sorry, two smoothies and one soda. She confers. No, sorry, one smoothie and four sodas. She fucking confers again. No, I'm so very sorry, two smoothies and one soda. And again, and again, and again, I'm almost positive that this went on for at least three hours. FINALLY, they settle on one smoothie and three sodas.

THE ORIGINAL FUCKING ORDER. I feel like my brain is going to spontaneously combust.