#by pancreaticpotter

[prorevenge]

International House of Payback

(TW: Some blood loss) Recently remembered the time I inadvertently caused a mutiny at my place of employment when I was in high school and decided to share.

NB: Into the way back machine, it’s the late 90’s and I had recently moved from one state to another. In the process of doing so, a lot of household things had to be moved out of storage. The amount of dust that had accumulated, while not excessive, was enough to cause me to have multiple sneezing fits. To the point where, by the time we got everything unpacked in new state, I had blown a blood vessel in each nostril of my nose. After copious nosebleeds, I go to the doctor and get them fixed (chemical cauterization).

On to the meat:

After the move (and doctors visit) I quickly get a part time server job a well known breakfast restaurant. The management was fairly crappy but nothing too outrageous. Well, one afternoon I’m restocking the tables in my section, more specifically, the pepper shakers. As pepper is wont to do, it irritates my nose, setting off a short sneezing fit. I end up getting a fairly mild nosebleed compared to what I had been suffering, so I figured it was probably an anomaly and I’d be fine.

The next day at school, something (and I cannot remember what) set me off and the dam had broken. In BOTH nostrils. I get picked up, go to the doc and get an electrical cauterization. The doc specifically tells me that I need to stay away from triggers as much as possible for a few days at least, so I have a chance to heal properly.

Since I’m scheduled to work that night, I dutifully call my manager and let them know what’s up and that I cannot work. I was summarily told that since it was a Friday night, I had zero choice in the matter and I better show or I was out of a job. I am pissed. Even after I had explained everything the doctor said and let them know I had a doctors note, they still demanded I come in because it’s one of the busiest nights. They even had the audacity to imply that it couldn’t be anywhere near as bad as I said and I was making it up.

So that’s when I decide to say fuck it. If they want to run the risk of me bleeding on tables, counters, food, and customers alike, then so be it. So I head in to work about a half hour early and head to the “break room” (it barely qualified as a broom closet), where a handful of my similarly aged colleagues are coming in and out. I, of course, regale everyone of my plight. Fun Fact: when I get angry/frustrated, I tend to cry. Usually it’s a trait that sucks, but this night it worked completely in my favor. My esteemed teenage coworkers already had a large disdain for the management and their treatment of their underage slave workers (it’s honestly been so long that I can’t remember the specific crap they pulled, except for a tendency to keep us there hours past close for asinine reasons). So when my tears of anger, misinterpreted as those of pain & despair, began to fall while recounting their demand to put not only my health in danger, but everyone else’s too, something snapped. An idea was born.

This idea grew like a living organism, winding its way to the entire server crew on shift that night, at breakneck speed. They’d had enough. None of this was to be tolerated. I’m convinced the dulcet sounds of Twisted Sister’s “We’re Not Gonna Take It” started playing softly in the background. I don’t know who lit the first spark, but I clearly remember when the ship went down in flames.

As one, every server, regardless of if they were clocked in, waiting to clock in, or had tables, took off our aprons, left them in the break room, and walked out the front door. All without saying a word. We piled into our cars and drove across the street to another restaurant and grabbed a window seat.

We were effectively Nero, fiddling while Rome burned.

As the Friday night dinner rush progressed, we watched car after car pull into the parking lot and, after a few minutes, each of those cars leave. I’m sure when the unsuspecting diners walked in, saw that things were ridiculously backed up and chaotic, they noped right the fuck out of there. It still hadn’t let up hours later.

Not really sure what happened in the short term, but being a huge national chain, it’s still kicking two decades later. All of the mutineers swiftly got new jobs at different restaurants around town.

Please remember that I was 16-17 years old at this point, as was every server scheduled that night, and stellar decision making skills are not that age groups strong point. So current me looks back and grimaces at leaving customers in the lurch. But current me also remembers the ungodly stupid health risks they were willing to take. And I give myself a cookie.

Bonus Related Mini-Revenge:

My honors English teacher had been overheard telling other students that I had to be making up the whole thing, or was grossly exaggerating the truth.

Welp, that same fateful day that the dam broke, I am sitting in the front office, waiting for my sister to pick me up so I can head straight to the doctor. And guess who walks right past me? My English teacher was waltzing through and literally did a double take when she saw me... mainly because in a desperate move to prevent recreating the elevator scene from The Shining, I had used my own shirt until an alternative was acquired. I looked like a deranged murderer. Part of me really wanted to say, “You should see the other guy,” but instead opted for the dejected waif look, to try to really nail home the shame. It must have worked, because she actually apologized and never brought it up again.

And in case anyone is wondering, I’ve only had one mild nosebleed in the last 20 years.

(source) (story by pancreaticpotter)

[prorevenge]

International House of Payback

(TW: Some blood loss)

I just found this blog and it’s a beaut. I recently remembered the time I inadvertently caused a mutiny at my place of employment when I was in high school and decided to share.

NB: Into the way back machine, it’s the late 90’s and I had recently moved from one state to another. In the process of doing so, a lot of household things had to be moved out of storage. The amount of dust that had accumulated, while not excessive, was enough to cause me to have multiple sneezing fits. To the point where, by the time we got everything unpacked in new state, I had blown a blood vessel in each nostril of my nose. After copious nosebleeds, I go to the doctor and get them fixed (chemical cauterization).

On to the meat:

After the move (and doctors visit) I quickly get a part time server job a well known breakfast restaurant. The management was fairly crappy but nothing too outrageous. Well, one afternoon I’m restocking the tables in my section, more specifically, the pepper shakers. As pepper is wont to do, it irritates my nose, setting off a short sneezing fit. I end up getting a fairly mild nosebleed compared to what I had been suffering, so I figured it was probably an anomaly and I’d be fine.

The next day at school, something (and I cannot remember what) set me off and the dam had broken. In BOTH nostrils. I get picked up, go to the doc and get an electrical cauterization. The doc specifically tells me that I need to stay away from triggers as much as possible for a few days at least, so I have a chance to heal properly.

Since I’m scheduled to work that night, I dutifully call my manager and let them know what’s up and that I cannot work. I was summarily told that since it was a Friday night, I had zero choice in the matter and I better show or I was out of a job. I am pissed. Even after I had explained everything the doctor said and let them know I had a doctors note, they still demanded I come in because it’s one of the busiest nights. They even had the audacity to imply that it couldn’t be anywhere near as bad as I said and I was making it up.

So that’s when I decide to say fuck it. If they want to run the risk of me bleeding on tables, counters, food, and customers alike, then so be it. So I head in to work about a half hour early and head to the “break room” (it barely qualified as a broom closet), where a handful of my similarly aged colleagues are coming in and out. I, of course, regale everyone of my plight. Fun Fact: when I get angry/frustrated, I tend to cry. Usually it’s a trait that sucks, but this night it worked completely in my favor. My esteemed teenage coworkers already had a large disdain for the management and their treatment of their underage slave workers (it’s honestly been so long that I can’t remember the specific crap they pulled, except for a tendency to keep us there hours past close for asinine reasons). So when my tears of anger, misinterpreted as those of pain & despair, began to fall while recounting their demand to put not only my health in danger, but everyone else’s too, something snapped. An idea was born.

This idea grew like a living organism, winding its way to the entire server crew on shift that night, at breakneck speed. They’d had enough. None of this was to be tolerated. I’m convinced the dulcet sounds of Twisted Sister’s “We’re Not Gonna Take It” started playing softly in the background. I don’t know who lit the first spark, but I clearly remember when the ship went down in flames.

As one, every server, regardless of if they were clocked in, waiting to clock in, or had tables, took off our aprons, left them in the break room, and walked out the front door. All without saying a word. We piled into our cars and drove across the street to another restaurant and grabbed a window seat.

We were effectively Nero, fiddling while Rome burned.

As the Friday night dinner rush progressed, we watched car after car pull into the parking lot and, after a few minutes, each of those cars leave. I’m sure when the unsuspecting diners walked in, saw that things were ridiculously backed up and chaotic, they noped right the fuck out of there. It still hadn’t let up hours later.

Not really sure what happened in the short term, but being a huge national chain, it’s still kicking two decades later. All of the mutineers swiftly got new jobs at different restaurants around town.

Please remember that I was 16-17 years old at this point, as was every server scheduled that night, and stellar decision making skills are not that age groups strong point. So current me looks back and grimaces at leaving customers in the lurch. But current me also remembers the ungodly stupid health risks they were willing to take. And I give myself a cookie.

Bonus Related Mini-Revenge:

My honors English teacher had been overheard telling other students that I had to be making up the whole thing, or was grossly exaggerating the truth.

Welp, that same fateful day that the dam broke, I am sitting in the front office, waiting for my sister to pick me up so I can head straight to the doctor. And guess who walks right past me? My English teacher was waltzing through and literally did a double take when she saw me... mainly because in a desperate move to prevent recreating the elevator scene from The Shining, I had used my own shirt until an alternative was acquired. I looked like a deranged murderer. Part of me really wanted to say, “You should see the other guy,” but instead opted for the dejected waif look, to try to really nail home the shame. It must have worked, because she actually apologized and never brought it up again.

And in case anyone is wondering, I’ve only had one mild nosebleed in the last 20 years.

(source) (story by pancreaticpotter)