Armed and ridiculous...

April 3, 2002

There is really no excuse for my behavior, but I want to tell you what happened.

It was five or six years ago. The Wurster convenience store had closed down (some say by politicking), and I was moved into the student union main store. I didn't really like it there. Not only was I sick of the job, but I didn't get to hang out with my favorite coworkers.

Anyway, there was this one guy that worked there, someone I just didn't like. He was always talking shit about people and trying to act like this Asian gangbanger. And he kept talking to me like I was his friend.

One day, this customer in a wheelchair needed some help with his drink. He couldn't decide what to get, and so kept asking for samples. I didn't want to offend him, this handicapped guy, but I was getting a little miffed. I felt he was using me for free drinks. Being the wuss that I was, I just kept serving him until he bought something.

I went to the back room to get some ice. Gangbanger came up to me and asked what I was doing with that guy. "Are you going to wipe his ass now?" He asked.

Holding that ice scoop in my hand, I turned to him, tried to say "You Fucker," but managed only with a "You..." and threw the scoop at him.

At the last second, I realized that I could actually hurt him with it, and ended up throwing it down onto the floor. I heard it bounce as I tossed the plastic bucket full of ice all over the ground. I then stormed out of the store.

I leaned against the wall, waiting for my heart to stop fluttering and took a few deep breaths. The usual guilt settled in, and I wondered what the hell I was going to do about this outbreak. I played with the idea of just walking off, never to come back to work, but instead, I returned to apologize.

"Look, I'm sorry. It wasn't directed at you. I'm having a bad day, and it was completely out of line. I'm sorry."

He stood up, and there we were, standing chest to chest, staring each other down in the walk-in freezer.

"You want to fight. Is that it? C'mon."

"I don't want to fight. It was my fault and it wasn't about you."

"Look at this scar. You could have maimed me." I looked at his ankle and saw a faint, tiny, pink mark on his skin. I thought to myself, What a wuss. That's nothing. But I understood why he was mad.

I sighed. I was tired. "OK. Alright. I don't want to, but if you want to start this, let's go outside and settle this."

"No, let's go, right here."

"I'm not going to fight you in the freezer. If you want to fight, let's go outside."

"C'mon. You want to fight? Let's go right here."

It wasn't that I was afraid, I just didn't want to fight. I didn't have the heart. We stood there for about a minute, neither moving. I didn't want to fight, and he didn't want to take the first punch. Pretty soon, one of the supervisors split us up, and he sent me home.

The next day, I decided to quit.

So, wait, what point was I trying to make? Don't point an ice scoop at something unless you intend to destroy it?