not entirely relevant but.....
it is amusing how many people have posted about the mc special sauce, and the mc spit burgers but ffs, it all pales into insignificance when you consider the sh!te that they put in the actual burgers!

100% beef maybe, but then anything off a cow is beef - you know lips, flanges, foreskins, ar$eholes...

mmmm, mc tasty!
(Aleister Crowleys Badger Nothing to see here, Thu 27 Jul 2006, 13:53, Reply)

Ok, Ok..
Thanks Legless. Glad to hear about your lovely lady news and sorry to hear about the lack of job news btw. I do that starsign thing too, but I'm only really good with the fiery ones. Anyway, I digress (again)

A story, to excuse my rant. Not my story really, an ex's.

His parents used to run a large, old, hotel style pub in Amesbury (village by Stonehenge)some years ago. As his parents were pretty tolerant, and their son fairly rock n'roll, they were quite happy for bikers hippies and those who wanted to avoid the small-town-mentality pubs to frequent their hostelry.

One Christmas Eve afternoon, when everyone was having a quiet pre-family duties pint, a real arsehole came in. Abusing the staff, shouting at the regulars and generally causing a fuss. One of the regulars took offence, and decided to physically throw the chap out. However, the chap proved to be a lot nippier than he looked- and this turned into a bit of a chase round the pub.

This would have been Keystones Cops enough, but. He then grabbed the Christmas tree and started swinging it about. The original chaser caught him and was trying to drag him out. Some others joined in and there was a long chain of people hanging off this nutter. Topped off by the extremely large Chinese chef running out of the kitchen, waving a meat cleaver and swearing loudly and incessantly in Chinese... Choas ensued, nutter was swiftly despatched (not with the cleaver) and they all sat down to have a jolly good laugh. Tree burning merrily away on the fire...
(clapper, Thu 27 Jul 2006, 13:51, Reply)

Woo Clapper!
Have to agree. This is probably the first QOTW that I haven't read every entry. Just too sickening. I'm no angel but I wouldn't dream of doing some of the things posted up here. Cowardly, twisted and perverted and, what’s worse, not even vaguely funny.

OB QOTW answer to *try* and keep on topic.

As a nipper I used to work in a supermarket, bringing new stock up from the warehouse for the shelf-stackers to stock the shelves. (OK, it's supermarket but it*is* food related...).

We had a right bitch of a shift manager, fresh out of Uni, who thought the best way to get work out of people was by screaming at them. This one night I was amusing myself and my workmates by guessing which star-sign they were and being surprisingly accurate. So bitch manager says:

"OK Smartarse. What's my star-sign?"

"Taurus" I said.

"Bloody hell!!" she gasped " How did you know that?"

Looking her straight in the eye I said.

"Hitler was a Taurus"

She burst into tears.......

Cheers
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Thu 27 Jul 2006, 13:26, Reply)

Kinda off topic and pointless...
Me,my boyf and our friend had just left the pub and had wandered (or skipped in my case) over to the local Royal Fried Chicken shop (similar to Kentucky Fried,Texas Fried,Proper Fried etc Chicken shops) and the boys bought some chips. It was then we laid our eyes on the largest moth Ive seen for a while. It was like a small eagle! Me and the boyf decided such a magnificent specimin deserved to be free,so we chased it about. I couldnt catch it cos it was bigger than my girly little hands,and the boyf kept missing it. The silly git (moth,not boyf) then flew straight into the chip fryer. And died. I dont know if they served it,but its not like the skanky Romford customers would notice or care...
(Miharu, Thu 27 Jul 2006, 13:20, Reply)

This sucks
I'm posting this only as it's so close to being a new QOTW, so I feel that the off-topic sin is not so bad.

Some of these stories are horrifying. And cowardly. Too scared to confront someone's unreasonable behaviour face to face? Don't worry kids, just do something gross and dangerous to their heath behind their back. Customer is upset due to poor service/quality of food/foreign objects? See above.

I also can't understand the mentality of people who want to get revenge, when the recipient doesn't even know! Surely the whole point is that they find out they've wronged you and that's why this horrible thing has happened...?

And we wonder why eating out is such a vile experience in Britain. It's because people will keep their traps firmly shut and put up with any old bollocks because they are terrified that something like this will undeservedly (9 times out of 10) happen to them.

Mainly I'm just glad I don't have to be on the recieving end of some of the truly bad behaviour that service industry people have to witness. And I do have sympathy with you,I really do. But surely there must be better ways of dealing with it then actually putting one of your bodily fluids into their bodies? There's names for doing this kind of thing without people's consent...
(clapper, Thu 27 Jul 2006, 12:48, Reply)

while holding my hand....
I made the mistake once of caring whether one of the drunkards from the bar i'd just finished working in was dead or not. He was collapsed on a bench, so I shouted (from a good distance away) to him to see if he was ok. He then got up, grabbed my hand (he moved fast for a drunk guy!), farted and followed through. I believe his exact words were "aargh...I've shit myself."

I went home and washed...lots.

PS. Also used to work in a resturant/hotel where the dishwasher would regularly piss herself while working. Yum.
(beelee, Thu 27 Jul 2006, 11:58, Reply)

peeing up the bar
I worked in a pub when i was a student, and got to know the regulars quite well.

There was one guy called Stewart who was nice enough but frequently got so drunk he couldnt even stand un-aided, and had to leave the pub a few times via ambulance.

One day, after Stewart had had one to many and was literally propped up at the bar, I decided to refuse him anymore drinks.

The other barman decided he was ok, and so served said alcoholic another pint much to my annoyance.

Stewart had a couple of sips, and then peed all over the bar and all over himself.

I laughed so much as the other barman was made to clean it all up!

haha, I told you so!!
(chixor, Thu 27 Jul 2006, 10:58, Reply)

Tee with that, sir?
Many years ago I used to work as a barman in a Golf and Country Club, in Earls Colne, in Essex, and 'twas some of the best times of my bar tending career, half decent money, bit of respect from the punters, use of the gym, sauna, pool etc.

Every year they would have a summer ball where the members would have a slap-up feast in a huge marquee in the grounds, followed by a round of golf, tee-ing off at midnight. With so many inebriated, rich, up-tight golfers and their wives, the whole thing quickly slid into a morass of drunken, bodice-ripping, sexuality, with various people 'going to the loo' only to return disheveled and red-faced.

The food was superb and the Champagne flowed freely - the kitchen would even 'accidentally' cook about a dozen too many steaks and let us get rid of the evidence for them (Thanks Barry!). I remember me and a waitress, both of us plastered, sitting under a bush at about 2am, eating steak sandwiches and swigging from bottles of Moet.

Another part of our job was to wander the grounds when it started to get light, to round up any lost guests (and staff). So, as I wandered the essex countryside finishing off a last bottle of champers, I stumbled accross a couple getting friendly in one of the bunkers. I cleared my throat to announce my presence and advised them that the taxis would be arriving soon. As the lady tried to find her dress, the gentleman thanked me, then asked if there was any champagne left in the bottle I was carrying 'cos he'd accidentally got sand all over his cock, and needed to wash it off as he wasn't quite finished yet. Being a professional, I left him the rest of the bottle.

Length? Well, the champagne WAS pretty cold.
( reverend_smarm, Thu 27 Jul 2006, 10:35, Reply)

I worked as a public toilet attendant

And when the manager pissed me off, I used to put pizza toppings in the toilet bowl.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Thu 27 Jul 2006, 6:52, Reply)

Rainbow Topping
I worked at a pizza restaurant once and once a week the area manager would come around and give us a the usual slagging off for a couple of hours before sitting down for her lunch, which was a reuglar 7" meat based pizza with a light seasoning of everyones spit, a splash of piss and occasionally the first few trickles of pre-puke. To her credit, and she must've known what went on in the kitchen, she'd finish the pizza everytime.
(TomJoad, Thu 27 Jul 2006, 6:41, Reply)

Dog crap mince
Many years ago, I studied at the fine establishment which is Lauder College, Dunfermline. Whilst sitting in the cafeteria one morning, I got chatting to one of the staff. There had been a bit of a stushi, where several of the local YTS lads serving in the catering department had, after being pissed off by their lecturer, served up an interesting meal for a visit by local dignataries. The meal was mince and tatties. Mince is brown. And so was a fresh dog shit they found outside. Said shit was stirred into the mince and no one eating the meal was none the wiser, until a case of severe food poisoning broke out a few days later. Suffice to say the lads weren't allowed to finish their YTS scheme. Although that probably wouldn't have stopped them gaining employment in several of the towns' kebab shops.
(Rob Roy The Postie is looking for alternative employment, Thu 27 Jul 2006, 4:31, Reply)

I suffer from Alzheimers...
...and if I remember my 'Rock n Roll Story' before the next QOTW I'll share it with you.
(Lt Columbo, Thu 27 Jul 2006, 1:15, Reply)

Urinals
Ok, working in a pretty well frequented bar in nottingham.

Unfortunately due to the unsupervised quick access to the toilets, people often dove in with the sole intention of a quick bit of public convencience based vandalism or offloading coat hangers from their cashless 'shopping' spree around the corner.

Said incident revolves around some bastard (assumably burberry clad) entering the conveniences and smashing the only crapper in the building to pieces. Right before christmas. The out of order notice was a work of sheer genius, stating that "someone had opted to spread peace and love to all men by vandalising the toilets."

Unfortunately, without a handily located public convenience, rather than popping around the corner to deficate in working toilets, people opted for sinks and urinals. Even worse for me (and somewhat fortunately, but that's another story for another question...) I was one of the only males working in the establishment, and rather annoyingly the only male working that particular evening.

I'm used to the urinals being blocked thanks to the rather archaic drainage system. Nothing prepared me for the site of what could only be described as a trough full of faecal matter, partially watered into a liquidy mess by people who opted to contribute to the situation rather than tell me.

The smell was the first thing to tell me something was amiss, and unfortunately it was down to me to clean the fucking thing.

Bucket, mop, air freshner and bleach were my weapons of choice. 30 minutes it took me to clean that mess up. I threw up as well adding to the problem at one point, I doubt jesus himself could find fault with me at the time though. It's pretty amazing how long it takes to water down that much crap so it will filter down a drain. I was tempted to get a pressure washer to do it with, but the spray back would have made this so much worse. Or interesting, if you're fucking weird like that.

I'd love to say that I ended up using it in a casserole, or something like that, but i'm just not that much of a cunt.

On a side note though, I remember on one occassion someone had managed to obtain a used tampon and threw it across the room... I was tempted to use it as a novelty stirrer for bloody marys.
( Muns, Thu 27 Jul 2006, 1:01, Reply)

Cheesy cheeseburger with extra cheese (the more cheese the better in chef's opinion)
After working at McDonalds for 2 weeks my training squad manager introduced me to one of the recipes for 'difficult' customers...

Ingredients:
1 standard bun
1 meat pattie
1 layer of cheese
few onions
couple of pickles
some ketchup
bit of mustard
1 cock (self raising)

Step One:
Place bun into toaster and chuck meat pattie onto grill (Health & Safety glove optional, if bum scratched within last few minutes we suggest no glove will be necessary, but the choice is yours). Pull bun out halfway through toasting time and prepare to dress your bun.

Step Two:
Take self raising cock out of cover (preferably beaten or whipped), and gently push it into the centre of the bun (being careful not to break through the bun head). From the centre, gently knead cock from the centre to the edge, rotate bun by 20-45 degrees (This will help trap the air and enhance the extra cheesier taste) and continue until all sections of bun are properly kneaded. Splater mustard on, splater ketchup on, throw said few onions on, throw said pickles on, slap said slice of cheese on.

Step Three:
Meat pattie should be ready by now. Scrape off with a spatula, and commence the 'stick test'. With meat pattie on spatula, throw directly onto the floor, if the pattie falls straight to the bottom and doesn't move then congratulations, your meat is ready. Pick meat up and place in dressed bun.

Step Four:
Wrap up burger in Egg McMuffin wrapper to confuse said 'difficult' customer then slide over the top of the production bin (again, we suggest with bum scratching hand).

Step Five:
Wash hands, the last thing any chef wants is to catch any of his/her own dreadfull diseases.
(Lt Columbo, Thu 27 Jul 2006, 1:00, Reply)

Cock Wash
Where i live in Kingston Upon Thames there is a pub called the Coconut where friends and i would occasionally DJ. Unfortunatly the guy who runs the music there is a total cunt by the name of Dimirti. Mate of mine was asked to DJ there one night, turns up with all his gear and Dimitri tells him he can;t play as he has one of his lame mates to do it instead. Insenced, my mate waits til Dimitri goes to the toilet and proceds to wash his cock in Dimitris pint. He then comes back to the bar and finishes his drink, much to the amusment of the wronged DJ and his friends.
(Hendrix73, Thu 27 Jul 2006, 0:54, Reply)

.........
A word of warning to you all, never complain your food is cold unless it is genuinley stone cold and unedible. Most food outlets now worth their salt will temperature check all food before serving it and this temperature is usually 75c, a temperature that leaves the food hot to the touch and certainly hot in the mouth. So where I work if we get a complaint the food is "cold" 99% of the time we know that it is not "cold" and is in fact the correct temperature or higher required for serving food. If we do get a complaint of "cold" food then we instantly cook a fresh item and so not to get it returned again cook it to at least 100c, the boiling point of water. I can tell you there is nothing more satisfactory than watching a stuck-up cow of a woman who has just spent 10 minutes loudly complaining her burger is cold and totally humiliating my younger co-workers, bite into her fresh burger only to spit it out instantly because it is so damn hot!
And this isn't just practised in lowley fast food outlets, its in pubs and restaurants as well. An example of this is my mum complaining her burger was cold in a Brewyers Fayre, against my better judgement as I warned her of what I would do in a similar siutation, her fresh burger is brought out and suprise suprise is so hot that even touching it would cause serious burns.
(NotSaying lurking is fun, Wed 26 Jul 2006, 21:23, Reply)

I am not a lesbian
Worked in my mate's restaurant... michelin star, no less.

Mate is married to the head chef who decides to tell all his underlings that me and his wife are having a lesbian affair... I rolled my eyes a bit at this but then joined in (not actually having an affair with my married best mate) but it was funny winding up the 17 year old commis chef, though.

One day the head chef had the commis on his own and he'd pre-warned me to walk in just as he said 'you'll never guess what I walked in on...' so I walk in and go 'I told you not to say anything!' and our commis couldn't look his bosses in the eyes for days, even resorting to falling in the freezer to get out of a conversation with my mate!

And they never did dispel the myth. So there are a few people out there who still believe me and my friend are 'more than just friends...'
(Clarabelle is reverting to type on, Wed 26 Jul 2006, 21:14, Reply)

Hmmm....
Having worked in & owned several bar/restaurants & clubs (everything from Berni Inn’s to fancy Clubs on South Beach) I have seen some sights and come to the conclusion that:

Most owners, kitchen, wait & barstaff love the nose candy

Every kitchen has roaches (which can make a nice “extra” filling into any dish to a customer that is a cunt)

The likelihood of your marriage staying in tact if you own/run a bar is slim to zero. Just too much temptation in too close quarters.

Alcohol & food reps are good people to be friends with. They can generally get you anything you want, anytime.

Rats – Every bar/restaurant on the beach has huge rat problems. Just a couple of weeks back I saw the two girls behind the bar literally freeze with horror as huge bastard ran about behind the bar. Of course they tried their best to keep straight faces not letting on to the customers whilst staring at me with “help me” pleading eyes. I sent the barback round with a crate of beer and told him to crouch down as if stocking the underside shelves and hit the bastard. He got it after 20 mins but we had to leave it there until closing.

The hours are shit but the camaraderie and friendships can be lifelong.

Oh and you also meet the weirdest fuckers on earth, both in staff and customers

That is all.
( Snollock Biffer I don't really sniff Bollocks, Wed 26 Jul 2006, 21:12, Reply)

I used to work at a large fast food restaurant in Manchester
The one that isn't McDonalds. The decision had been made to refurbish this particular establishment as previously the dining area had been in the basement and was frequently used as a hangout for dealers and other undesirables.

The big plan was to move the entire dining area to the first floor, which naturally involved quite a bit of plumbing work with the customer toilets and such.

I turn up for my shift on the grand reopening day to find the entire staff sat around doing nothing, apparently there had been a flood during the night. One of my intrepid co-workers needs to do a toilet and avails himself of the brand new toilet facilites, the very same ones which are now placed directly above the kitchens.

What follows happened almost in slow motion the store manager goes chasing after the missing staff member when she discovers why he went upstairs with a long dramatic "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!". But her efforts are in vain as seconds later the entire kitchen is dissected by a curtain of what can only be described as raw sewage.

But OH NO! it gets worse, one unlucky staff member is caught at the far end of the kitchen. He is left with the choice of staying where he is to await the abatement of this terrible downpour or to make a bid for freedom through the very centre of the monsoon of filth. our hero panics, chooses option B and gets soaked . Poor fucker had to get the bus home like that.

They managed to open the next day so I have no idea how they managed to clean the intricate equipment such as sandwich toaster and grill to a satisfactory degree of hygiene in such a short space of time AND get all the plumbing sorted. But I'll eat anything so it really doesn't bother me.

Oh yeah BTW avoid chicken nuggets and onion rings, and when ordering burgers special order them eg: heavy cheese, light mayo so they get made fresh.
(jowl, Wed 26 Jul 2006, 21:04, Reply)

Ever wondered why you get small portions in chain pubs?
Never mind staff eating food after people had finished with it...I worked in a Whitbread owned pub in Swansea. The chef used to send the meals down in the lift, and one guy in particular used to eat stuff off the plate (he thought he was hidden around the corner) before he served it to the customers.
(rats_are_great, Wed 26 Jul 2006, 20:08, Reply)

Stone baked bread
I spent several years working in the bakery dept. of one of the UK's largest supermarkets *slaps back pocket twice* and I can confirm that what the eye doesn't see, the heart doesn't grieve over. Bread pudding was generally made from products that had been sitting on the waste rack for up to ten days; if it was green, that just ensured a little extra flavour for the lucky punters. If a lump of dough went on the flour, the bits of grit were picked out and it was chucked back on the conveyor belt. We occasionally played pranks on each other, so after receiving a lump of dough to the back of my head from a playful colleague, I poured a handful of multigrain seeds into my grease jug, surreptitiously crept behind him, then emptied it into his arse crack as soon as he bent over to stop the machine; the manager was not impressed to discover one of the staff sitting in the sink (where the utensils were washed), pulling cumin/poppy/sunflower seeds out of his ring along with a healthy helping of tagnuts and arse hair.

However, the crowning glory occurred about ten years ago. I was a bit of a smoker in those days, as was the guy I worked with at the time, so we used to see how stoned we could get whilst we worked. I'd roll a joint, smoke half of it, chip it out then give it to him, then around half hour later, he would do the same. If it wasn't possible to pass it on due to other staff being around, we'd just stick the half-spliff in our respective pockets until it was convenient. On one such occasion, I searched my pocket to give my mate his half of the doobie and discovered that it was missing; evidently, the THC-induced memory loss had kicked in and I must have smoked it myself.
Well, the next day I was working away merrily (for we'd been smoking weed since 4am), when my manager came out the back to see me.
"Bloody customers, they'll try anything!" he exclaimed.
"What's up?" says I.
"Someone's only just walked in and said that he's bought a french stick with a roll-up sticking out of it. He's obviously lying, so I told him to f*ck off, but he reckons that he's going to EHO about it."

Cue the next two weeks of me bricking it and expecting to be sacked which, although it was a sh*t job, would have inconvenienced me considerably; we made our own hours up so even though I was on about £4 p/h, I was taking home about £300 p/w. Furthermore, we were under scrutiny until the investigation was conducted, so work became extremely unpleasant.

There is a happy ending, though: The environmental health people didn't notice that it was a spliff, just that it was a roll-up, so they tried to pin it on this mad woman who worked out the front with the packing staff, for she was the only member of staff (that they knew of) who used Rizla. She kicked off and denied it, so they interviewed the cleaner, a local chav who happily admitted that he smoked spliffs on the job and it could well have been his and on top of that, could he have it back?

He was sacked, but I think I got the bum deal, because I ended up working there for another six years.

Apologies for length, but I'm used to saying that. My b3tan hymen has been well and truly snapped.
(buck_fuddies, Wed 26 Jul 2006, 19:18, Reply)

Bad kebabs
Was working on a kibbutz in Israel once - sort of commie - everyone works for the common good - sort of community.

Once day I was in the chicken farm. We had to round up the fattest ones and put them in a pen. Then 2 surly Israelis quickly wrung their necks and threw them into a pile.

Low and behold, the next day I was sent to the kitchen to work, shuffled into a windowless tiled room with a drain in the floor and a table with a vertical saw. It was my job to dismember said chickens from the day before (plucked and gutted by the chicken prep elves, thank god).

I then had to sit down with a team of two others and thread the meat onto skewers for a big kibbutz party. (Not sure if this was kosher, or if they just didn't care).

You'd think the meat would be nice and fresh, but it smelt minging. We decided to roll the flies and bugs from the floor into the kebabs and spit on them for good measure.

We told the other volunteers not to eat the meat and my how we laughed to see them all eating it. Happy days.
(Peelmytangerines, Wed 26 Jul 2006, 17:51, Reply)

Oh Gawd
I'm never eating out again.

I worked as a cook years ago and we never did any of this with the food. Stole tenderloins, fucked each other in the freezer, padded our timecards by punching in early but no one ever pissed in the pancake batter. Yeeeeeuch!
(TDub Nunc id vides, nunc ne vides on, Wed 26 Jul 2006, 16:55, Reply)

A few choice bits...
...but I did work in the industry for 6 bloodey years!

Worked in posh restauraunt in even posher Edinburgh hotel. One of the waiting staff had a habit of eating stuff off plates that came back from the restaurant - minging! Chef's decided to be nice and offer him a nice freshly cooked juicy steak one night - just a shame said steak had been sitting out in the hot kitchen for 12 hours, been wiped all over the floor etc. Waiter really enjoyed it but was off sick for a couple of days after - I wonder why.

That was, though, the same restaurant where the more senior chefs poured alcohol over a commis and set him alight - for a bit of amusement. Made sure I never argued with them.

Last one - had a great water fight in the dishwash area between KP's and waiters using bottles of fizzy water. Shame there were still customers in the restaurant, eating their £25 breafasts in their £200/night hotel, and being served by very wet staff. I think they made something up about a flood.
(sparrie2k, Wed 26 Jul 2006, 16:42, Reply)

A while back
I was working in a rather shitty little cafe down south as a summer job just before going back to uni. It provided money, but drained me of any will to live.

Anyway, after being given the highly honoured responisbility of locking everywhere up on my last day's shift I was told quite frankly that all the extra time I'd suffered there was to go unpaid. Dastards.

So in seeking revenge I cleared everywhere up, emptied the till and finally did the washing up as was necessary. I then super-glued all the plates together and then glued them all into the cupboards as well as making sure all the salt and pepper shakers where firmly glued to the tables. I truely wish I'd been there the next morning to see the looks on all their faces.
(ladyremo, Wed 26 Jul 2006, 15:20, Reply)

Baking
It's related but not especially funny.
For five years I worked in a bakery in South Wales. A big one that provides most supermarkets with a lot of bread.

And what goes into that stuff is nobody's business. If a doughball comes of the belt and gets all mangled in the cogs, aint no thang. Just get your knife in there and chuck the oily dough back in.

So some dough went bad and stinks and is expanding all over the fucking place? No problem, just chuck an armful of this foul stuff in with every mix until it's gone.

Coughed something up that you'd rather not swallow? In it goes. No time to take a leak? I've seen it done, the bloke in question even pausing afterwards to adjust water levels in the mixer.

Hey, that low quality muck that even Aldi wouldn't accept for it's Spinaca brand bread? ( a while ago, like I say) Just put one in every dozen, and replace the date tags. Who would know?

And once that shit bread has been bought it will be taken in some cases to restaurants where it will be gobbed on, wanked over and violated in other ways before you eat it. Mmmm, good.
(Rhye, Wed 26 Jul 2006, 14:32, Reply)

Pish 'n' Chips
When working in a local chippy as a nipper I took great delight in adding my own urine into the battermix which was then out onto food, deepfried and then sold to customers. It certainly gave the food an "interesting" taste and more amusingly, we had a few customers that complained about the taste being weird when I hadn't pissed in it! Wankers.
(stonersmurf stuckin' foned, Wed 26 Jul 2006, 13:47, Reply)

The Wife....
Used to work in a bar in Stirling, Scotland. For the most part it was the usual bar bs with the kitchen staff hating the bar staff vice-versa. One thing that does stick into my mind though, is the careful cooking method of the steaks.

I don't doubt that other bars do this as well, so be forewarned. The quickest way to cook a steak, is to deep fat fry it for a few minutes, and finish it off on the grill, to give it that "grilled taste". That'll be the same deep fat fryer that they do the chips in. The same chips that they sold with the Vegetarian meals!

Still they were tasty chips and steak!
( DavyBoyInGravyJoy Grey Goose Vodka on Ice, nothing finer, Wed 26 Jul 2006, 13:13, Reply)

Serving food to people you never meet...
I was hired for three days to help cover an illness in the kitchen at Walls's sausage machine factory in Machester's docklands. This was the oddest canteen I've ever worked in. We kitchen staff spent most of the day cooking food. We cooked/prepared everything starting at 8 am and working until 1 pm; from breakfast, through lunch, dinner, supper and snacks; eggs (scrambled, fried and poached), sausage, bacon, tomato, black pudding, pies, hot-pot, stew, chips, fish, chops, salad, cheesecake, cakes, fruit, the bloody lot.

What did we do with all this freshly cooked food? Serve it through a hatch? Carry it out waitress-style? Silver service, even?

No. We flash chilled it, plated it up as if it was hot, then entombed it in cling film. These culinary masterpieces then had a coloured sticky label stuck on by the 'chef de cuisine' Tony (of course) and were placed in rotating compartments ranged along one wall of the kitchen. As we opened the door to do a 'fill', the light on the far side went out and only we could turn the carousel. The carousels would turn round at the request of someone in the canteen, who would remove the meal and follow the colour coded sticker placed by Tony. There was, apparently, a bank of microwave ovens out there with coloured labels stuck over the buttons.

We filled the drinks dispensers with cans and bottles from the rear as well, and there was another, smaller carousel for plate returns.

The factory staff worked shifts, 24 hours a day, and we never heard any more than a dozen or so people at any one time in the canteen. We never went into the canteen, only Tony did that. He would unlock the door and return a few minutes later with a tray of empty sauce bottles, sugar dispensers and salt pots for refilling. He would take out a box of sealed, disinfectant soaked cloths which the workers used to clear up after themselves. The canteen floor was mopped by the factory cleaners, we mopped the kitchen floor.

We never, ever, EVER saw any of the workers. One night, I lurked around outside the gates waiting to see one of these mysterious workers, but all I ever saw were shadows moving behind the obscuring, translucent panels in the walls, high up on the side of the factory.

It was very freaky.
(therandomthink, Wed 26 Jul 2006, 12:43, Reply)