I have trust issues. Just ask Carrie. She swears I totally hated her for months when I first met her about twenty years ago. We were (are) so similar in our looks, humor, IQ and so on that you would think she would have been a giant magnet to me. The real truth is that she scared the Jeebus out of me. I was jealous and suspicious. Not jealous like a mean girl or suspicious like she would drug me and put my head in her freezer; but I could not figure out how she could be so carefree and have such a blast at every thing, even Power Point presentations, and I was so not having fun with out totally faking it and making an incredible effort to do so. I know why. It’s because every violent act you can think of has found its way to me and trust is an issue. An issue that weighs about 100 tons and tends to go from zero to nuclear in a millisecond. Even when some chic just wants to be friends but especially if a dumb ass decides to make a move on me while also blocking my exit from a walk in freezer. This makes me go crazy lady ninja. Think the ending scene of Carrie (the movie- not my BFF) with zero fucks given about consequences for the beat down I was about to give and possibly mortally injure this man with whatever was within reach. Even if all I could get my hands on was some broccoli and an ice cream scoop.
There I was being friendly to the guys in the kitchen because most people treat them like crap, which I don’t understand because these are the guys that get our food out and help us cover our asses if we screw up an order. So it makes sense to be nice to them. Unless they are a dumb ass. A customer orders cobbler with ice cream so Cook Dude heats up the cobbler and I grab the ice cream scoop and dash to the walk in cooler, which is about the length of a tractor-trailer, to get a scoop of vanilla. The ice cream is way in the back and through another door to the freezer section. I have a problem with small isolated spaces and have had more than one nightmare about being locked in a cooler with no way to escape. So I prop open the freezer door with my foot and out of my peripheral vision I see Cook Dude standing at the exit end of the walk in. With the door shut. Heart starts racing and I talk myself off of the ledge by thinking of all of the reasons he needs to be in the freezing-windowless-no one can hear me scream-death trap – of a walk in. I act as though I am not disturbed by the 6’2″ giant man blocking my escape. I put the ice cream down and walk to the door. He stays put and just looks at me. I give him the look. The look entails this: one cocked eyebrow, piercing move or die eyes and a tsunami of ” I WILL kill you ” thoughts with the posture to back it up. He is not convinced and is now smiling. Ok Fucktard, you asked for it.
“I just wanna say hi.”
” You already said hi today. Now move or I will move you.”
“You don’t have to be like that, Baby Girl.”
Really, fucker? Really? You think I’m playing here? So ice cream scoop in hand, I brush by his shoulder and open the door. Brush is a light word, it was more like a do this again and you’re dead shove. Looking out I see there is a camera pointing to the freezer. This is about to get epic.
“You don’t have to get violent, girl”, he says as he tries to grab my arm.
“You have yet to see violence. If you ever try to block my exit from any where again I will fucking end you. And if you ever try to touch me again, I will rip off your mother fucking arm and ass rape your grandma with it. “
What the fuck just happened and this bitch is capital K crazy look falls over his face.
“And PS, Cook Dude, see that camera? You try some shit again and you can bet the film on the camera isn’t going to help your plea bargain. At all.”
I leave and Cook Dude stays in the freezer. Lucky bastard should thank his lucky stars because if not for that camera, I would have locked the door behind me so he could have a cool down time out to think about what a shit head he is and to maybe pray to Satan for salvation. Fucker.