Our restaurant is the only place in town that’s open for a significant part of the day on July 4^th. As a result, we’re packed, but us staff don’t mind as we get plenty of tips and we’re usually guaranteed another holiday of our choosing off at other times of the year. 

We’re winding down a truly hectic day, and the tips are being pooled by management. I’ve personally collected over three hundred dollars today, and I know several of my coworkers have collected similar amounts or more.

The end of the day has approached, and the boss is handing out the tips in envelopes to us one by one in his office, which is suspicious.

Me: “75$? There should be way more in there.”

Boss: “That’s what it evens out to.”

Me: “No, it should be more. Can I see your math?”

Boss: “You call me a liar? Between you waitstaff and the kitchen, that’s what it comes out to.”

Me: “There was fifteen waitstaff today, and we all managed a few hundred each over the shift. I personally got $300. Even if I am being conservative, and even divided between the kitchen staff there should easily be over $100 in here.”

Boss: “What can I say, some of you might not have done as well as you have. We’re all team players here though, so go on home and get some rest.”

I leave the office, but I am not done. I talk to every member of the waitstaff as they get their share of the tips, and it’s a similar story. We’ve all made in the region of $300 each, so we should easily be getting in the region of $140-150 each after an even split.

Our boss finally comes out of his office and sees all fifteen of us standing there, not looking particularly happy.

Boss: “What is this?”

Me: “We’ve all worked twelve hours on July The F****** Fourth, and we deserve our fair split of the tips. We’ve all done the math and you owe us double what you gave us.”

Boss: “You’re wrong! You got what you all deserved, now go home all of you!”

Me: “Pay up now, or we all walk, and no one will be here tomorrow… at all.”

Boss: “You’re gonna risk your jobs over a measly seventy bucks?!”

Coworker: “I have two kids who didn’t see me today! I am going to bring home every single d*** cent!”

Coworker #2: “When you’re on minimum wage, $70 is a fortune!”

Me: “The people have spoken. Pay… up!”

I’m not sure if it was the patriotic spirit of the day, but we all stood firm, and he soon realized we were not bluffing. He sighed, and took OUT FROM HIS POCKET, the rest of the tip money! We actually got about $175 each after it was all evenly distributed!

Even though we had won that battle, the fact that he had so brazenly thought he could get away with it left a bad taste in my mouth, and I reported him anyway to upper management. By the time July 6^th had rolled around, our manager was on “indefinite administrative leave” and we all received some grocery store vouchers to say thank you for working on July 4^th (and for likely not feeling litigious).

Coworker: “Did you hear what happened to [Boss]?!”

Me: “Yes! It’s finally the land of the free and the home of the brave!”

“Midnight Sun,” a new Twilight novel, has just come out. We are selling the books so fast that we have to call ahead to restock. I have just sold our last copy of the day to a teenage girl, and there is another teenage girl behind her.

Teenage Girl #2: “Where are your Midnight Sun copies?”

Me: “Sorry, I just sold the last one. But we should be getting more tomorrow.”

Teenage Girl #2: *Turns tomato red* “NO, NO, NO! YOU CAN’T BE OUT! WHO HAS THE LAST COPY? THAT B**** OVER THERE? HEY, YOU BLACK B****! GIVE ME YOUR BOOK!”

At this, the first teenage girl looks terrified and takes off. The second teenage girl runs after her, and I immediately page my manager to prevent a fight.

Seconds later, the second teenage girl runs back in with the book she stole and brings it up to the counter.

Teenage Girl #2: “I’d like to buy this book, please!”

Me: “Um, did you just take that from the other girl?”

Teenage Girl #2: “So what? I’m Stephenie Meyer’s biggest fan! I deserve this book more! Now ring it up for me!”

I take the book from her and put it behind the counter.

Me: “Please leave. I told you, we will have more books tomorrow. You can purchase a copy then.”

She screams like a banshee, tries to grab my shirt, fails, and is pulled back by a woman in her forties.

Woman: “I did not raise you like this! I saw what you did out there! Disgraceful! Unbelievable! You are going to march right back out there and apologize to that girl! And you’re not driving the car for four months!”

Teenage Girl #2: *In tears* “But Mom—”

Woman: “No, don’t bother.” *Turns to me* “I’m so sorry, sir. This isn’t like her, I swear.”

She forced the girl to apologize to the other girl when she came back in for some water, and she put a few dollars in our charity box. I haven’t seen the second teen girl since, although I have seen her mother come in a few times. Whenever she sees me, she apologizes again for her daughter’s behavior. I also see the first girl come in occasionally, although I’ve seen her carry pepper spray on her keychain now.

Related:
The Twilight Of Our Youth, Part 9
The Twilight Of Our Youth, Part 8
The Twilight Of Our Youth, Part 7
The Twilight Of Our Youth, Part 6

I arrive early for my CAT scan and sit in the waiting room. [Tech #1] comes out of the back.

Tech #1: “Is [Man] here? [Man]? [Man]?”

Receptionist: “Who’s [Man]?”

Tech #1: “His wife is back there and too dizzy to walk. I’m looking for her husband.” *Louder* “[MAN]! [MAN]?!”

[Tech #1] disappears for a few minutes and then he’s back.

Tech #1: “[Man]? [MAN]?! [Receptionist], would you page him?”

Receptionist: “What’s his last name?”

Tech #1: “Just page [Man].”

Receptionist: “I can’t do that! There are lots of [Man]s!”

Tech #1: “I don’t know his last name. Just page him!”

[Tech #1] disappears again. [Tech #2] comes out of the back pushing a woman in a wheelchair.

Tech #2: “Someone’s supposed to transport this woman to the lobby.”

Receptionist: “Park her over there until they come.”

[Tech #2] parks the woman and goes into the back.

Tech #1: “[Man]? [Man]?”

Transport Nurse: “Where’s the woman in the wheelchair?”

Receptionist: *Waving vaguely* “Over there.”

Transport Nurse: “I see the wheelchair, but it’s empty.”

Receptionist: “That’s odd.”

The transport nurse leaves.

Receptionist: “[My Name], we’ll get to you in just a few more minutes.”

Me: “That’s just fine. You’ve lost two people in the ten minutes I’ve been here, so I’m really overwhelmed with confidence at the moment.”

Someone else behind the reception desk calls out:

Employee: “Don’t ask me! I’m on lunch!”

Tech #1: “[Man]?”

They did eventually find [Man]. They never found the missing lady. And my CAT scan went on without further incident — whew!

I’m in line at a sandwich shop ordering a meatball sub.

Customer: *Behind me* “Excuse me.”

I turn around to see a woman in her early fifties wearing lots of jewelry.

Customer: “Is that a My Little Pony on your shirt?”

Me: “Yeah, you a fan?”

Customer: “No! That show is evil and you are a degenerate!”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Customer: “That show ruined my son! Now he has dyed his hair in rainbow colors and he buys toys for little girls and goes to these awful conventions with smelly people that do the same thing!”

Tears begin to run down her face. People in the store are turning to look.

Me: “Ma’am, maybe you shouldn’t be so judgmental of me or your son. It’s just a show that a lot of people happen to like, a show that teaches about the value of friendship and acceptance. Perhaps you could stand to learn a lesson or two from it yourself.”

Customer: “No! My son had such a promising future and now he’s admitted to me that he is a homosexual! It’s all that d*** show’s fault! People like you ruined my son!”

She reaches out to slap me, but I quickly deflect the blow.

Me: “Ma’am, please don’t touch me. I train regularly in Krav Maga.”

The woman grabs her forearm where her arm had met mine.

Customer: “Help! This degenerate struck me for standing up for my beliefs!”

She looks, wild-eyed, at the small girl behind the counter, who has watched the whole thing without saying a word.

Customer: “You! Call for your manager and have this society-destroying pariah thrown out of here! He assaulted me!”

Manager: “I am the manager. And I just saw that whole thing. It’s you who had better leave. I won’t have you assaulting people in my place of business for wearing shirts that express their values.”

The woman stomps out in a huff without ordering any food. People sitting at the tables and in line begin to clap for me and the manager.

Manager: “Sorry about that. And hey, the sub’s on us. Because nobody messes with Twilight Sparkle.”

She reached over the glass to give me a high-five, even after I insisted on paying for my lunch. And wouldn’t you know it? Her phone number was written on the napkin she put in my bag.

(This happens right as the first “Twilight” movie is leaving theaters, and the DVD commercials are starting to play. A young teen girl enters with her mom and approaches the counter. The mom wanders off immediately.)

Girl: “Where’s the Twilight movie at?”

Me: “I’m sorry, it’s in between being in theaters and out on DVD right now. It’ll be available in less than a month I believe.”

Girl: *pauses and takes a long look at me, and then says in a dramatic monotone only angsty teens can produce* “My life is so tragic.”

Related:
The Twilight Of Our Youth, Part 8
The Twilight Of Our Youth, Part 7
The Twilight Of Our Youth, Part 6