F***k.

I probably could've been fired for this one, if the wrong person happened to be around at the wrong time.

My friend Mason is a twenty-something, whose training to become an assistant manager. We happened to be working the second window at the same time, and we were having one of those odd heart-to-hearts that coworkers tend to have when things are slow.

Mason is extremely suppressed and lethargic.

I'm always curious, and of course I wanted to get to the bottom of his seemingly emotionless attitudes.

Of course, it had to do with a woman.

Particularly, his girlfriend of five years. According to Mason, in the time they've been dating, she's managed to lose an engagement ring, cheat excessively, and turn him from a fun-loving individual into a completely stoic shell.

Bravo, Mason.

Of course as he's telling me all this, I'm feeling sympathy for the kid. We're also preparing an order that I don't happen to realize is a 4 piece kid's chicken nugget.

Just as a very snooty looking bitch in a suburban drives up to the second window (which Mason naturally has forgotten to close) I say in a very loud, forceful voice

"You have to stand up for yourself, man! She's a fucking bitch, forget her!"

As I turn around with a triumphant nod of my head, I don't notice Mason's awkward reaction. I also don't notice Mason's awkward reaction is a direct result of the snooty bitch in the suburban's mortified expression. The five year old in her passenger's seat is giggling.

Of course she asks to speak to the manager.

Lucky for me, the manager that day happened to be the relatively jovial Danielle. Danielle and I are on very good terms, thanks to her being one of the very first veterans who took me under her wing in the beginning.

I didn't find out my situation until I returned to the front, and found myself confronted by a surprisingly nervous Mason, who told me he'd "stick up for me" if shit went array.

Danielle is laughing.

She tells me the lady was "extremely pissed" at the "unprofessional attitude of the staff", before driving off in a flurry of dust and gravel.

Danielle, still laughing, guffaws to us both--"I wanted to tell her, 'LADY, this ain't da HOTEL RITZ naw.' "

She patted me on the back, and told me I was safe. Though my cheeks were red and gave away my true feelings on the matter, I smiled cockily and replied with something characteristically snarky.


Phew.
Close call.