Alright, now everybody knows that...
well, working for a living blows.
And it especially blows when you have a bad day at work.
Now, what do I know about bad days of work?
After all, I'm a full-time YouTuber, for Christ's sake!
A bad day of work for me consists of like...
me not being able to say the word 'alright' with the correct inflection.
"Alright... No, that's not right." (Clears throat)
"Alright... No, no, no, that's not it either!"
Ahem! Alright, alright, alright!"
But I've worked real jobs before,
my first job was being a cook at a pizza place.
Do you really think that was a rootin'-tootin' time?
Sweating your ass off,
making stuffed-crust pizzas for drunk people all night long?
Yeah, I think I've had my fair share of bad days at work to say the least.
But the absolute worst work day that I had
was ironically on my day off.
And it wasn't just any day off, it was a Friday of all days.
And Fridays are the busiest days of the week for pizza places,
because Fridays produce the most drunk people out of any day of the week.
So I was pretty happy to have that day off.
But there was a slight catch:
the day before my boss was like,
"Hey, I know it's your day off tomorrow and it's Friday,
but we're running a new promotion,
and if we get too busy, I'm gonna have to call you
and you're gonna have to come in."
Well, well, well, look at me,
the person to call if there's a pizza emergency.
That's right, I'm gonna be on call,
like I'm a fucking emergency room doctor.
"What's that? Somebody needs an emergency baboon heart transplant?
I'm on my way!"
"What's that, somebody ordered a fuck ton of pepperoni P'Zones?
I'm on my way!"
So I'm out enjoying my Friday night at a...
Well, it's a fucking Wendy's because I'm broke as hell,
and, of course, it doesn't take long before I get that phone call,
"Oh yeah, hey, it's me, your pizza boss.
Uhm, everybody and their dad decided to call off today,
and I'm gonna need you to come in, because it's the goddamn pizzapocalypse.
Now, this Wendy's that I was at
just so happened to be across the street from the pizza place.
So like the world's shittiest superhero
I run out of the Wendy's like the fucking building's on fire,
I don't even bother to grab my bike that's chained up,
I just run across the street like a psychopath.
I burst onto the scene like Darkwing Duck, my boss is like,
"Oh, thank God you're here,
this new promo is really slamming our dicks in a car door!"
So I get in the kitchen and the only cook that is there besides me
is this kid named Debbie, that's not his real name of course.
I just call him Debbie because he makes pizzas like a slut,
and Debbie is the sluttiest name I could think of.
So there we are, me and Debbie, the Laverne & Shirley of pizza making,
I didn't even put on an apron, I'm in street clothes and shit.
People at the register are looking in the back like,
"What the hell, did they just pull a crackhead off the street
to start making pizzas?!"
But it doesn't matter, because it's absolute pandemonium at this pizza place.
I don't know what the hell kind of deal we were running back then,
but it was like, "Buy a medium one-topping and get a...
fucking bag of methamphetamine for free!"
Something like that, I don't know.
We got the phones ringing off the hook,
the ticket machine is spewing out orders like it's possessed by the devil.
And it's so damn hot in this kitchen, that it feels like
you're fucking working next to the mean-ass sun from Mario 3 and shit.
Meanwhile our boss is nowhere to be found,
because he's too busy fucking texting people in the bathroom.
You got Debbie's ass freaking out trying to man the ovens,
he's got a look of sheer panic on his face.
Not to mention dumbass orders that are coming in left and right from the counter.
"Uh, do you guys think
you could stuff the crust with a hotdog instead of cheese?"
"Yeah, I need a pizza that's topped with... you guys got pickles?
I'll take pickles, and, I don't know...
how about a bag of Monopoly tokens?"
"Uh, yeah, can you guys spell out,
'Sorry I beat up your mom's new boyfriend,' with the pepperonis?"
With all these orders coming in
it doesn't take Debbie very long to start to screw up,
all of a sudden pizza starts falling off the oven all willy-nilly.
"I'm sorry, I don't know what I'm doing!
Oh God, there's so much pizza!"
So now I start doing the job of three people,
while Debbie sits on a fucking stool,
because he's more harm than good at this point.
I'm making all the pizzas,
I'm taking them out of the ovens,
hell, I'm even taking orders over the phone when I have to!
"Uh, you want a pizza with just mushrooms on it?
What kind of sick pervert only wants just mushrooms?"
And this shit goes on for hours and hours.
I've no idea how many orders we did that day.
But I can tell you that fucking pizza place
should've erected a 12-foot statue of my ass out front
for the endeavors that I went through.
Hell, things don't finally start to die down until it's damn near closing time.
And before we can go home,
we got to scrub the whole kitchen down to make it all sparkly clean.
Well, of course, as soon as we get done scrubbing the shit out of everything,
our boss comes in like,
"Hey, some lady just called and she said you burnt the shit out of her pizza.
Can you remake it real quick?"
So now we got to redirty the goddamn kitchen for one stupid-ass pizza,
which I think is bullshit to begin with,
because I don't burn pizzas.
Hell, I make the prettiest pizzas this side of the Mississippi!
Whoever this lady is is a bullshitter and she's just trying to get a free pizza.
Well, imagine my surprise when my boss walks in again,
and he's like, "Hey, that same lady just called.
She said it was supposed to be a pepperoni pizza,
you put a bunch of nasty mushrooms on it instead."
And I'm like, "Wait a goddamn minute,
I remember that lady, I took her order.
I distinctly remember her ordering just mushrooms,
because again, what kind of fucking pervert orders just mushrooms?"
"Uh, yeah, Mr. Pizza Boss, with all due respect,
that lady is a fucking lying scorpion woman."
"Look, can you just remake it, I want to get out of here.
If you need me, I'll be in the bathroom."
(Whistles)
So there we go, making this lady's third pizza, two minutes to close.
And I'm not gonna lie,
I was tempted to lick every single one of those goddamn pepperonis
like a fucking postage stamp.
Relax, relax, I didn't do it.
I'd never mess with somebody's food, no matter how badly they deserve it.
So we get this lady's pizza done, and finally we get a chance to close up.
Me and Debbie are sitting outside,
looking like we just fucking stormed the beaches of Normandy.
All of a sudden out in the parking lot we a see a guy in a bike pull up,
then another guy in a pickup truck pulls up right behind him.
And it's pretty dark outside,
so it's hard to make out what's going on or who's out there.
But we see these two guys load up the bike in the back,
and then they take off.
"Huh, well, that was weird. I wonder what that was all about."
But it wasn't until I went back to Wendy's to pick up my 10-speed
that I found out that I didn't have a fucking 10-speed anymore.
And at first it didn't even register what the hell happened,
I was standing there for like 15 seconds, like...
♪ ♪
Oh, God damn it! I just watched my own bike get stolen!
So after that I walked the fuck home,
and that's the conclusion of my worst work day ever.
Actually, it doesn't quite end there.
Remember the mushroom/pepperoni pizza lady that lied her ass off?
Well, before I left work I took her order ticket,
because it had her phone number on it,
and when I got home late at night I called her on the old telephone.
"Hello? Hello, is anybody there?"
- Why did you lie to me? - What? Who is this?
"You lied, I know you lied.
Just know that I may or may not have licked all the pepperonis."
(Click!)
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