Rage

Okay, now don’t get me wrong, I’m not an aggressive person, I don’t actively search out fights, but you all ought to know, that if you –want- a fight, it’s right here waiting for you. Consequently, last night when one of our last customers that came in, a drunk, or stoned, or high on something, or all of the above, ordered and decided to be bloody difficult about it, I was …less than pleased shall we say?

So her order, a fillet bacon and cheese burger combo, but she didn’t want the drink so she’d swapped it first up for a desert. That was all fine and dandy, I got her order but, lo and behold, the desert, fresh from the freezer, had ICE on it. So, after yelling at me and saying “this is from the fucking FREEZER, the ice is from the FREEZER?!” I honestly felt like saying ‘well duh, where else does ice come from?’ But, as a token to my self-control (or customer services) I didn’t. So, she changed the desert to potato and gravy.

Well, that was a fun exercise wasn’t it? I returned the desert to the freezer, got a small prep (what we call potato and gravy), a new spoon, and handed to her. But no, this wasn’t good enough was it? “This potato and gravy looks fucking DISGUSTING.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Aren’t you listening to me?! It’s FUCKING DISGUSTING.”

Charming lady, isn’t she? I apologised again and was about to say that the appearance had nothing to do with me, when she threw the prep at the counter, split the container and splattered me oh so nicely with potato and gravy.

It’s amazing at how fast your mind can work sometimes, isn’t it? As soon as that container hit the counter, I was ready to take the fight to her, first instinct- get over the counter and deck her, second instinct- Go through the door to get her since I probably wouldn’t get over the counter. First thought- The manager probably wouldn’t like it if I started a brawl in the shop, and she’s drunk, so it’s really a waste of my time. With a sigh I started cleaning up the potato and gravy as she started storming to the door.

To those of you that know this feeling, the adrenaline rush, for most, on the very edge of a fight? Those that –aren’t- trained, aren’t aggressive, this feeling will just dissipate once the threat has left, not so with me. I have to let it out somehow, and since she In order to give her enough time to be out of my sight –before- I got really riled, I cleaned the counter and then returned to sweeping the restaurant. Unfortunately, she didn’t return when I had the broom, but once I was nearly finished mopping, complaining that her meal had maggots in it.

All of us that knew of her first episode (the whole store) found reasons to be doing things near the front, the MoD spoke to her as she was yelling about her meal having maggots in it. Her burger had maggots in it and her chips tasted like they had maggots in them. Of course, there was the choice insult, and ‘fucking’ in with her speech, and if she had turned towards me and started abusing –me- for giving her a meal with ‘maggots’ in it, well….there wasn’t a counter in the way this time, now was there?

Unfortunately, the MoD (manager on duty) seemed to know that, and sent me out the back. *sulks* I cleaned the mop, emptied out the water, and she stormed off again, to get her meal that had ‘maggots’ in it. I’ve no idea how, since a) the chicken would have been cooked less than two hours prior, and b) we make everything fresh. So if them maggots had survived being cooked for at least 2.31 minutes (the time the chips take to cook) then we have a new breed of super-maggots. Flies the haunt your dreams because the suckers won’t die!

Ho hum, taking the chairs down, and that lovely customer of ours storms back, carrying a bag with what looks to be, the burger in it. Again the forced politeness “I’ve just ordered a fillet bacon and cheese burger combo, but I didn’t want the drink so I swapped it for potato and gravy, the potato and gravy looked so bad that I left it here-“

MoD: You threw it at my staff member.

Her: I handed the potato and gravy here because it looked so disgusting-

MoD: No, you threw the container at the counter and left a mess, some of which ended up on my staff member, that’s not handing it back.

Her: (she’s starting to yell now) I handed the potato and gravy back and I found that my MEAL had MAGGOTS in it. I want a refund. Are you going to give me a refund?

MoD: Can I see your meal?

Her: I want a fucking refund! Are you hearing me? My meal had fucking maggots in it!

MoD: May I just see the burger?

She hands over the back, the MoD opens it and inside is just the wrapper, she says as much.

Her: This is a very serious complaint! Are you going to give me a refund or not?

MoD: No I’m not, this is just the wrapper, there’s no burger in here or maggots.

Meanwhile, the MoD had pushed that handy little button under the counter and called for the police, got security, and while idiot was starting to insult her ‘I used to work at a place exactly like this and you’re a worthless piece of shit that will get nowhere, you’re just a piece of shit, do you hear me? A fucking useless piece of shit’

And then she seemed to have noticed the rest of us (although I was oh so casually leaning against the counter, just three steps and I would have been out the door and –then- she would have had something to complain about) and proceeded to insult –us- for working here ‘you’re all just worthless pieces of shit!’

My, such an impressive insult repertoire. I don’t think I’ve been called a piece of shit quite so many times before. So the MoD is talking to security on the phone, she’s yelling at us and then starts to storm off. I couldn’t resist (the phone call had finished by now)

Me: Do you feel proud of yourself that you can say that? Do you go home at night and feel –safe- because you can insult people?

Her: You’re just a fucking worthless piece of shit!

My, such a pleasant end to the evening no? I –really- wanted her to turn around and storm back, yelling and cursing and insulting the whole bit, until the cops turned up, or, until she decided to get over the counter and attack someone. Then a rather pleasantly …entertaining interlude should follow.

Now, as I’ve said, I’m not an aggressive person, I don’t go looking for fights, I rarely get angry. Not irritated, -angry-. And with her, I was fuming. You do –not- throw shit at me and expect to get away with it, and then, after getting me pissed from –that- little thing, you do not then, insult me and not expect an insult (or more) back.

Honestly, some people are just asking for it.