Long ago I worked with a guy named John. He was probably the angriest person I’ve ever known. We worked together every weekend for six months. It was a form of punishment. When my punishment was over I never saw John again. I found out he’d been fired in an epic way.
Our valet company did a lot of private parties either at houses or banquet halls. When we got tipped the money went into our pockets and then at the end of the night we’d pool the money between all of the valets. Many times a valet may have more money in their pocket before we split up tips than what they’d go home with. Other times you might go home with more than what you had on you. It just happens.
John ended up getting less than the amount he had on him at the end of the night. It pissed him off. He didn’t think it was fair, and told the manager/valet Brendan that he thought it was bullshit. He’d earned that money, and wanted some of it back. Brendan reminded him that wasn’t how it worked. John couldn’t accept this. His temper was boiling over when he disappeared inside the event center.
Brendan thought the conversation was over, but John had gone into the kitchen and taken something from the caterers, and then came back outside.
“Hey Brendan …”
Brendan turned around to see what John wanted now.
“… FUCK YOU!”
A cupcake smashed Brendan in the face hard, making a spongy slapping sound on his cheek.
I’m sure he was shocked. I wish I would have seen the whole thing, but I can only imagine Brendan (who was a tool) wiping the frosting and cake off of his face, trying not to get any on his neatly pressed white dress shirt.
“Y … Y … Y … You’re FIRED!”