Unfiltered Story #116494

(Back when I was 16 I worked at a major fast food restaurant. It was almost closing and a car comes up to the drive through. Before I can finish greeting them they started cursing at me to the point I could not make out the actual sentence between the curse words- if there was one. I put it on speaker for the kitchen and tried to get the manager on duty to listen, who caught the tail end of “f***ing PUNK!” and tires screeching. While I’m talking to her about what happened, I hear a voice behind me.)

Him: What the f*** is your problem?
Me: I don—
Him: I was f***ing talking to you g**d**** m*****f******!
Me: I still don’t–
Him: I thought people were f***ing rude where I was from, but you f***ing a****** take the g**d*** cake! What is you’re f***ing name!
(I look at my name badge, and I look at him. A short breath and…)
Me: [Name].
Him: How the f*** do you spell it?
(He’s looking like he’s ready to hit me at this point if I don’t spell my four letter, incredibly common and very well known Biblical name, so I spell it for him. There is some back and forth again, something about a fish sandwich and his sister, he leaves only after my manager gives him a free meal card. I ended up trapped in the restaurant until 2 AM waiting for this guy and the people he left in his car to give up waiting to jump me. I had to sneak out the back when they weren’t looking.)