Why I'm Home on a Sunday Night

This just hasn't been my weekend. All week I've been stressing out over how much I have to work. I haven't had a day off since last Thursday, and it would have been Tuesday before I had another day off. Well, thanks to me running off at the mouth, I've got a few days off. In fact, I have an indeterminate amount of time to myself. What I'm trying to say here is that I got fired for calling my boss an asshole to his face.

I worked for Macaroni Grill for a little over a year. It's been a pretty good year, I made a lot of new friends and got really good at serving. I got along with just about everyone, management included. So, I'm actually really surprised that I lost my job. But I knew yesterday when my boss looked like he was about to pull his non-existant hair out of his head that I had pressed a couple of the wrong buttons. I was trying to get him to do my cashout(restaurant speak for turning in all your checks and giving or receiving cash), as I was already half an hour into the dinner shift and I was supposed to be back on at 3:00pm. The clock read 3:24. He told me that I hadn't been cut yet, and I was trying to explain to him that I knew that, but that I was needed on the floor to take tables, and needed to cashout so I could change shifts. As I was trying to explain this to him, he started to walk away, presumably to yell at the hostesses for cutting me, which they didn't, so I tried to get his attention.

Do not try this at work- "Hey Brian! Quit being an asshole and cash me out." As soon as the words exited my mouth, it was like a needle falling off a record. My boss, Brian, stopped dead in his tracks, spun around, and walked right up to me.

"What did you just call me?," he demanded, his newly shaven head turning a vibrant shade of violet. This is a man who is literally twice my size, a former Air Force bitch, who is obviously pretty upset with me all of a sudden. As much as I hate to admit it, I was a little intimidated.

"Brian, don't worry about it. I'm just trying to get my work done here," I tried to reason with him. I wasn't trying to get myself in trouble, I just wanted to make some cash and be done with it. I've talked myself out of this kind of stuff before, but he looked more than a little pissed.

"What did you say, Robert?"

Crap. He wasn't going to let this one slide. I could try to be witty and make a joke out of it, but something told me that wasn't going to work, either. "Brian, I said you were being an asshole."

"Clock out, and I'll talk to you in a second."

Shit! This was about to be the third day in a row that I've been pulled into the office for something. I knew I was on my last leg. There was nothing I could do but sit there and wait to hear what he had to say. Little did I know that a chain reaction was already starting. Immediately after Brian and I exchanged words, a text message was sent to a manager four states away, a friend of mine, who in turn contacted another manager, a friend of mine, who then called up Brian saying that he can't fire me. I didn't know about that until I started writing this paragraph, though.

Anyway, Brian pulled me into the office a few minutes later. He looked flustered. Maybe he was wondering if he could afford to lose one of his best servers, but all that he said was "I can't have you calling me an asshole in front of other team members. I can't make a decision right now, because I don't want to. Just clock out, and go home. We'll talk about it tomorrow."

Could have been worse. I got the night off, and I was hopeful that when he calmed down he wouldn't think much of it, and I would get a write up at most. I got home, and right away, the phone started ringing. I looked at the clock, and it wasn't even 4:00pm yet. Less than an hour had elapsed, and people that I don't even work with were calling me to find out what had happened. This thing was already blown way out of proportion, which had me a bit worried. I made some plans to go out, had a glass of wine, talked to an "old friend", and took a nap. Might as well enjoy having an unexpected Saturday night off.

I went out and had a great time. For once, I wasn't driving, so I was down for anything. I went to a kegger for the first time in a looong time. It was like being in college again, except I know a lot more now that I did back them. I brought along a half gallon jug of Dead Guy Ale, and set myself loose around the party. It was a good one- 3 DJ's spinning some good music, a couple of guys freestyling, and a chill crowd. The house was incredible, too. Somebody put a lot of work into it's layout, some century or two back. I got my drunk on, met a couple of cool people, and ended the night with a big slice of Spinelli's pizza. Work was the last thing on my mind, and I got a good night's sleep.

I woke up today, ready to find out about my whole job situation. I was still trying to keep the job, so I got myself into perfect uniform. Bought a new tie, even. But alas, it was not meant to be. The second I walked in the door, people started to talk. And there was Brian, beckoning me from across the restaurant. He didn't look like he was happy to see me. I went into the office with him and another manager. There it was, on the desk...my termination papers.

"I'm gonna let you go, Rob," Brian said. I could tell that he had been thinking about what he wanted to say. "I know you were having a rough shift, but you can't just can't call me an asshole." I grinned, just a little. I couldn't help myself. I looked at the other manager, and she was grinning too. Brian could be an asshole, and everyone knew that. "It wouldn't even have been a big deal, but you said it in front of other team members, and they've been talking about it." So if he caved in and let me keep my job, he lost the battle. As a general manager, he feels that he has to keep the upper hand in situations like this, or else lose respect. In truth, no one has much respect for him in the first place. But I understood his reasoning.

"You know what, Brian? You're right. I was way out of line. I get what you're saying, now where do I sign?," and yes, I aware that it rhymed. I signed my Macaroni Grill termination papers for the second time in my life, and handed over my books and apron. Brian offered a good reference, and I shook and his hand and thanked him. If I was going to burn bridges at Macaroni Grill, I was going to do it right.

I left peacefully, and told a few people that I would miss working with them. I wanted to tell everyone, because I really will miss them. Brian didn't want people talking about this anymore than they already were, and he saw me talking to them as a threat to his shift. He said "Rob, I'm sorry, but you have to go." It was a bit weird. This place was kind of like my second home, one I loved and hated to come to, and here I was being asked to leave. So, I did.

And that brings me up to the present time. The phone is ringing off the hook, and in fact, I'm about to go straight back up to the Grill and smoke a fat blunt with a couple of my people.

Woooo. That was good. I shot the shit a little outside of my former place of employment, and it was obvious that people that were going to miss me, and I was about as overwhelmed as I can be after smoking a blizzie.

So that was, like the saying goes, that. I'm an unemployed man. Temporarily, anyway. My roommate has probably landed me a new job already, but I guess I'll find that out on Tuesday. I'll hunt around tomorrow for another restaurant job, hopefully something a little more fine-dining than Macaroni Grill. For tonight, I'm going to enjoy my first weekend off in over a year. I've got to pretend that I'm absolutely broke, because I'm pretty damned close. If all goes as planned, I'll be going out for free tonight, anyway. I'm getting my crew together, and we're gonna have a good time celebrating my 'freedom'.