Not everyone is cut out to work in food service. Most people can usually make it past the first week, at the very least. Unfortunately, these poor saps just did not make the cut. Whether it was because of something they did or just bad luck, they all were fired within their first week on the job and shared the experience on reddit. These are their stories.
(Content has been edited for clarity)
My mouth was agape in shock.
'But,' I said, 'I have been waiting for this job for a week now.'
She just kind of shrugged.
'Sorry,' she said, but she did not really sound sincere. 'I am going to need that T-shirt back.'
I began to become furious at that point. I looked up. The bully from high school had appeared again behind the line and was just smirking with his arms folded. I couldn't help but think this was his doing. I began grabbing my things.
'Heck no. I am not giving it back,' I told my now ex-trainer with a laugh. 'I am taking it, since you dingbats made me wait a week for this.'
'Dude, you can't keep it,' she said with growing aggression.
'TAKE IT FROM ME, BIMBO!' I shouted at the top of my lungs.
I left, accidentally knocking over my chair in the process. I ended up making the decision to move away from that town a week later, so it was probably for the best. But seriously, forget people who live their lives still in high school. I still have that shirt. The whole thing, including my reaction, was super embarrassing."
"I was fired from this crappy, organic grocery store in Pittsburgh my first week. They would not tell me why, just that it wasn't working out.
Later, someone I knew socially, who also worked there at the same time, told me the manager told him that I was fired for being fat and sweaty. I worked next to a pizza oven and they would open the doors and turn off the AC. Also, it was the middle of summer.
A year later, they went out of business. From what I understand, they had a huge turnover.
What annoys me the most is, why did they hire me if they didn't want a fat person working there?"
"My first job was Subway when I was 15. I was training, so I wasn't on the official schedule yet, but the store manager told me to come in from 9-5, Monday-Friday to train. I left on Friday at 5 and he said to check back that weekend to see if I was on the schedule for the following week. I came in on Saturday and went to check the schedule. I saw that I had a few weekday shifts the next week, wrote them down, and left.
I came in the following week and went to walk behind the counter when a coworker stopped me. It was during the lunch rush and she stopped serving customers and shouted, 'YOU'RE FIRED. YOU DIDN'T SHOW UP FOR YOUR WEEKEND SHIFT!'
I was stunned. I told her I came in on Saturday, I'd WALKED PAST HER to check the schedule, and I wasn't on it! If I was supposed to be working, why didn't she say something to me when I was there?
She then told me to take off my uniform and give it back. I had to undress in a restaurant full of people and then leave. Thankfully I was wearing a tank top under my work shirt.
I was so humiliated. Easily one of my worst memories."
"I worked at a Japanese Hibachi restaurant in town that had just opened. It was under the table since I was a freshman in high school. Some of my friends worked there too as waiters and waitresses, but I was assigned to the kitchen. I was the only white person who worked in the kitchen, everyone else were either chefs from Japan or dishwashers and preppers from Indonesia.
Immediately on my first day, I was taught some basic Japanese, basic Indonesian, basic food prep skills, and then was fully expected to act as a go-between for the two groups. In the morning, the Indonesians had me chopping vegetables I had never seen with knives I had never held. In the evening the chefs, who were normally very stoic, would grow sentimental and let me cook with them. I left work well past midnight, having not spoken English for hours, sweaty as all get out, and smelling strongly of soy sauce.
On my seventh day at work, the Indonesians gave me a bracelet made out of seashells from their country to wear. That evening, the chefs tied a Japanese flag bandana around my head to wear, just like them. They brought in a black and white samurai movie to watch while we worked.
Suddenly, I was called over by the boss, whom I had never met or seen. He was Japanese and spoke English with a thick accent. He commanded me to sit. To my horror, I saw that three of my coworkers from school were there, too. He then informed us that we were all fired, effective immediately.
It turned out that one of the other white kids was stealing drinks from the bar and selling it in the parking lot. The boss man did not like that and thought it reflected poorly on all of us white kids. So, we were all fired, even though I had no idea what was going on. The Japanese chefs looked at me sternly when I went back to grab my things but gave me firm handshakes. The Indonesians were teary-eyed and gave me quick hugs.
A few days later, I returned to school and to my boring existence. This was many years ago. It was the greatest job I've ever had."
"When I was 16, I got my first job at a small discount grocery store. It wasn't a great job but my parents had just bought me a car and the deal was that I had to pay the insurance. I didn't care either way. I was a very responsible kid and had some experience running a cash register at a relative's store. I figured it would be easy money. I went in for my first shift. It was uneventful. So was the next one.
We didn't count our own drawers at the end of our shifts there. The manager on duty did and we were not allowed in the room. The third day, my drawer came up short $40. Mistakes can happen to anyone, but I felt totally stupid and was upset with myself. The manager on duty was really mean about it, but just told me to be back the next night.
On day four, my drawer was short over $100 and I knew I hadn't messed up that bad, especially since I had been sure to be extra careful and count everyone's change back to them. The same manager counted my drawer that night and informed me I would have to pay that money back by the end of the week or they would press charges. She still didn't fire me.
When I told my dad what happened, he put two and two together and told me I was being taken advantage of. He took me to work the next day and spoke to the store manager, who said there were no cameras in the counting room so they had to take the manager's word.
I worked my shift with the same manager that night. That's when things went down.