Wednesday, 6 July 2011

Respect to the Man in the Ice Cream Van

Wow, once again it has been a very long time since my last post. As I am sure you are all wondering what has happened to me, I shall have to do a post. And because Im putting off learning some shorthand, but Ill come back to that later.

My exams are finally over, the end of week three brought me a lot of relief, not only was my worst week (six exams) over, art was finished, and I only had two piss easy exams left - Japanese Writing and ICT.

I realised my flat white looked suspiciously like a Yin-Yang, so I drew in the dots :D

Since then I have managed to get myself a job. And by "get myself a job", I mean, "got given a job". After a somewhat serious conversation, I was offered a job working at my girlfriend's family's chain, a group of shops selling ice cream and the likes to the citizens of Windsor, Runnymede and Eastbourne. The job itself isn't too difficult... in theory. However, it gets much harder when there is a large queue of tourists eagerly anticipating their overpriced cone's, and you having to remember their seemingly endless requests and flavour combinations, whilst having to put up with the simpletons who cant even choose what flavour they want, let alone what cone they want, or in what size, which seems to be about 90% of my customers. The other 10% being people that want directions, or people asking where the toilets are...

Speaking of size and cone, I fear that these two phrases will be forever ingrained in my brain: "and which cone would you like?" *indicates to selection of cones* and "Small, medium or large?". Despite these clear questions and indications, some people then have the audacity to choose a non-indicated cone, which always complicates things, especially for an ice cream retailing noob such as myself.

Also, who the f*ck buys Oysters? They're a pile of shit. Seriously. If you ever want to buy an ice cream, why would you get a shitty little cone that falls apart and seeps Mr. Whippy all over your hand, and has some soggy marshmellow at the bottom? WHY? Also, they're a massive bitch to make, so please - tell your friends, tell your family, tell your local parish priest; Boycott Oysters!

An Oyster. Who buys these? I'll tell you who; Twats. Twats buy these.

Currently I am on my days off, as I only work four days a week, usually Monday, Tuesday, then the weekend, where they are most busy. I am not looking forward to this weekend... if the weather is in any way good, or otherwise. I will probably be taking food orders too this week, as I have been commissioned the task of learning the food order short hand, which is slightly unneccesary, I dont see why the initials of the food isnt enough... for example, Jacket Potato and Tuna goes to -> JP + TUNA. See, if you're going to abbreviate jacket potato, why not tuna too? Surely JP + T would be better, seen as though it's shorthand? But hey, I dont make the shorthand... I just have to write it. Oh, and shout it too. I hate shouting. Mainly because I can't do it. Those of you who know me will know I have a somewhat quiet voice, I just cant control it! In fact, I dont understand how anyone can! Its your voice, coming from your mouth, which is situated right by your ears, so to me, at least, it sounds like my voice is always loud enough, although clearly it isnt. So, before saturday, not only do I need to learn shorthand and mentally prepare myself for lightspeed ice-cream-among-other-things serving, but I need to learn how to shout, God knows how I'll do that...

However, I do have a White Lies concert down in Coventry tomorrow, so I guess I'll get some practice there.

P.S. For all you uneducated buffoons out there, the title of this article is a Scooter quote, by the famous German poet H.P. Baxxter, aka Cein.
- Colm

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