Karma is a Freakin' Boomerang

So it was at the fry store that I first got a taste of management, and while I'm not super proud of it, I very quickly learned how and when to wield the many powers of a fast food manager.  Split-shifting people I didn’t like; back to back shifting; making people work Sundays; late nights; early mornings; and the best weapon in the arsenal of a fast food manager when it comes to getting your staff to comply, the threat of having to clean the dreaded grease trap.  If you haven’t worked in fast food, the grease trap is where all the nasty gunk that goes down the drain in the sink resides.  It’s smelly, it’s gross, and cleaning it is just about the worst thing you can make somebody do.  Like I said, I’m not proud, but I used my power.  Frequently.

They say that karma is a boomerang, and one night working alone I was paid back in spades for all the nasty stuff I made people do.  I was doing something extremely important and managerial after the mall closed (ketchup package inventory).  The mall was dead empty, and on the way home, I decided to stop off at the mall washroom.  In the more information than you need to know category, I'm normally not a fan of public washrooms as I have a bit of a bashful bladder, and certainly making a number two leaves one fairly exposed, but since the mall was closed, I figured it would be OK.

So I went on in and sat right down to go about my business.  Before I knew it, some thug came over the stall wall with a knife and he was standing facing me as I was sitting there.  It was a good thing my pants were already down, or this story would have an additional messier, smellier component.

He was pissed to learn that I actually had no money or anything else of any value.  He did take a ring that belonged to my grandfather and decided that since he had the knife, he was going to get something after all.  He had a friend waiting outside the washroom, and together, at knifepoint (well I guess the knife was in his pocket at this point) they escorted me to the bank machine where they forced me to draw out everything I had, which for me was a lot, since it was payday, and by that time, I was earning at least six bucks an hour in excellent management compensation.

I’m sure I could have run (well maybe not…chubby fast food managers are not known for their puma-like speed), but I’m not too proud to say that I was scared shitless (I guess the pun is intended), and I was embarrassed, to boot.  If not for my friends, I never would have even called the police. 

 

Ultimately, I called the police, swallowed my pride and told them that I got mugged while taking a dump, and made a report.  Surprisingly, they caught the guys, and I got to experience a police line-up, which is exactly as cool as it is on Law and Order.  I even got my ring back as the bonehead was wearing it when he got arrested.

My bosses did nothing.  They completely blamed me, and were most concerned about whether the mugger had relieved me of the bank deposit for that night (which he had not).  No offer of counseling or support, no offer of time off, no new policies about working alone.   Twenty years have passed and taking a dump in public still gives me the shivers.  You'd think with my career in the EAP business I'd have found a counsellor to help me with that one.