Clones Of Bernard Black – Do You Want Fries With That?

I’m just going to put it out there – the fast-food venues in my town are all staffed by clones of Bernard Black of Black Books.

If you don’t know what that means, click on the picture and get the DVDs as soon as you can.

I have had this discussion with friends and loved ones often. Yes, employment opportunities are important, from the service industries to running the country. We should all encourage people to work and there are great benefits arising from… oh, what the hell, some people really make serving french fries an adventure only equaled by the films of Buñuel and Dalí. Kevin Smith has never plumbed depths this good for a sequel, I assure you.

Recently, for example, I had the cashier working intently on their Grimace and Ronald jigsaw-puzzle as I approached the counter. It was a challenging task, with a whole twenty pieces to be fitted. They were having problems and I suggested that they do the outer pieces first and work their way in. That took about five minutes. They were very pleased when it was completed, and they showed the manager.

I am not joking.

After that, another employee came past and asked what I wanted. I noticed that the cafe area was clearly closed, but they asked if I’d like a coffee from there? Fine, could I have a cake too? Remember, it’s clearly closed. In fact, there’s cleaning equipment forming a barricade in front of the display, with once-hot-water gone scummy and a puddle on the floor.

“We should find Bill. Bill knows if we can do this…” A desultory search for Bill ensues, but he’s nowhere in the shop. One employee starts walking around the perimeter of the venue, poking the shrubs.

But what the hell, they’re Bernard Black’s star employees and they do what they like. So they got me a cake and threw in a few extras because ‘no one’s eating this at this time of night and we’ll just have to put them away, so you’re saving us some time’.

I am not joking.

So, I have my cake, some other cakes, and a coffee (all from a part of the restaurant which is clearly closed and has cleaning equipment sitting smack in the middle of the floor, unused). I ask for a Strawberry Sundae too – and they ask me how to make it. ‘Do you put the sauce in first or on the top after?’ I say that it’s not for me and that I’ve never in fact had one before, so they should feel free to be creative. Bernard gets creative and puts as much as they can in the cup and squishes in the ice-cream after. ‘Pretty, isn’t it?’ The manager quite likes the look of it too. Could they have one?

I am not joking.

With my cake/s, coffee and sundae, they tally up the bill. As I put in my card, they wander off. Maybe to find Bill (he could have fallen into the chip fryer by this point, after all). After about ten minutes, someone walks past and checks that the payment has gone through. ‘Want a free apple pie?’ Sure.

As I leave, I notice that the first employee is working on assembling the next kid’s meal jigsaw-puzzle, this one featuring the Hamburgler.

Due to these experiences, I now know my local facilities as ‘Trash Chicken’, ‘Red Ruined Rooster’, ‘Bogan’s Pizzaria’, ‘You Want Food With That?’ and ‘Kentucky Fried Kitten’.

I have had employees announce that their chicken shop no longer sells chicken but they’ll give me ‘more chips than ‘all @*#!( get out!’ to make up for it. This is the same store, that within a two minute wait-time after ordering an item via drive-through, will announce that they’ve run out and, in fact, ‘I don’t think we’ve ever served that, have we?‘

I’ve had what appeared to be a tiny twelve-year old jump up and down in order to see over the counter when I’ve placed an order, as their co-workers merrily frisbee the pizza dishes in the backstage area. I’ve clambered over open boxes of dumped soft-drink containers in order to get to the drinks fridge, as the workers behind the counter insist that the ‘chicken burger is close enough to what you ordered’.

There is nothing more tangible than the cloud of disdain and ennui exuded by the man who serves you with one hat on, then walks behind the barrier to put on another hat – just to fry you a sausage. I’ve seen someone impersonate a zombie with pizza dough on their head, whilst their co-workers pelted them with tomatoes – before they run off to hide in the managers office, as distangling-dough-hair asks cheerfully what I might like to eat.

Bernard Black has a vast range of employment opportunities in my town, and as long as some of these places sell a coffee, I’ll probably meet the majority of them.

Tagged as: Bernard Black, comedy, Dominos, Eagle Boys Pizza, fast food, McDonald's, Mr Chooks, Red Rooster, service industries, you name it I've been there