Dirty buns
When I was an A-Level student I has a Saturday job, for my sins, in the McDonalds in our local town. It was one of the worst jobs I've ever had, and as soon as I turned 18 I left for a bar job. They had slogans which were supposed to motivate you to work even when it was quiet such as "Don't relax, Ajax" and "If you've time to lean you've time to clean". As you can imagine, that certainly motivated the spotty teenage workforce.

Anyway, one Saturday I was stuck working in the backroom where all the trays, frying baskets etc were cleaned with extremely hot water & detergent, and where all the bins were along with the trash compactor - the only thing that made that particular job worthwile. It beat doing a litter patrol as the big McD anorak made you an instant target for whatever the '80s equivalent of hoodies were.

So, there I am up to my elbows in grease when one of the burger "chefs" comes running in in a panic. He'd dropped a quarter pounder bun and it had been trodden on so he needed a spare and didn't have time to wait for a new one to toast, so of course the obvious place to source it was the bin. I watched as he rummaged, muttering, searching for a bun that wasn't completely mangled or half eaten. Eventually he found one that just needed a bit of a wipe down to get rid of the fag ash clinging to it and he was set. Of course, being a well brought up girl I didn't let him serve it, but when he assured me they did this all the time I vowed never to eat anything there I hadn't either cooked myself or seen being cooked.

Terrible place, terrible food & terrible employers.

Length? I work in TV and we call it duration.
(I Love Your Shoes, Thu 27 Sep 2007, 16:33, Reply)