Why am I awake again?
This memory came to mind when I randomly woke up oh, about twenty minutes ago, at 6:15am. I mean, really? I couldn't fall back asleep so I thought I'd record it.
I feel it'd be necessary to background this a little bit. I work at Chilis Bar & Grill, a fact I'm sure most of you are aware of and I have a less than stellar relationship with one of the cooks named Sam, which again, many of you are aware of. We are generally on a constant roller coaster of fighting and acting like we are lovers essentially. This is only in innocent play mind you. It may actually, no probably, come as a shock to those of you who've had to listen to me grumble about this man hear that I playfully joke around with him on occasion. Trust me, this is just my attempt to try to enjoy his company. I'm not lying when I say that the nights regularly end with him screaming at me because I asked him to recook some ribs that he messed up, despite how I previously threw myself all over him.
Anyway, I was sitting in the office with my manager and good friend, Brad, one night cashing out my bar drawer when Sam came to the door. The office door can't be opened from the outside so when he walked up obviously needing something I just stared at him with a sassy grin on my face to see what he would do. About two seconds pass and he starts harshly pointing at me through the window, "GIVE me a towel. Don't make me beat down this door. GIVE me a towel." He then persisted to repeat himself, getting more angry each go around.
He was as serious as he could be too. This wasn't his way of biting back to my sassiness, he really thought he had to yell at me to give him a rag.
After torturing him for about a minute (much to my selfish entertainment) I opened the door. I was sitting in a chair that blocked his path to the towels, and with my non-biological big brother who has threatened to kill men who've looked at me the wrong way/manager standing there Sam couldn't hurl me into the wall like I knew he was just itching to do. With much expression, I smiled, sat back, threw my hands behind my head, and propped my left foot on my right knee. "I'd LOVE to give you a towel, Sam. THANK you for asking me so sweetly." With a final smirk I threw him a couple white rags. He swiped them from the air and slammed the door in annoyance.
Brad kept counting bills and just laughed. "Atta girl, Little Bit. Don't take sh**."
Though this memory stills makes me laugh, I can't help but wonder. What on earth could have happened to this man that caused him to think that he has to be so aggressive to get some cleaning rags?
I feel it'd be necessary to background this a little bit. I work at Chilis Bar & Grill, a fact I'm sure most of you are aware of and I have a less than stellar relationship with one of the cooks named Sam, which again, many of you are aware of. We are generally on a constant roller coaster of fighting and acting like we are lovers essentially. This is only in innocent play mind you. It may actually, no probably, come as a shock to those of you who've had to listen to me grumble about this man hear that I playfully joke around with him on occasion. Trust me, this is just my attempt to try to enjoy his company. I'm not lying when I say that the nights regularly end with him screaming at me because I asked him to recook some ribs that he messed up, despite how I previously threw myself all over him.
Anyway, I was sitting in the office with my manager and good friend, Brad, one night cashing out my bar drawer when Sam came to the door. The office door can't be opened from the outside so when he walked up obviously needing something I just stared at him with a sassy grin on my face to see what he would do. About two seconds pass and he starts harshly pointing at me through the window, "GIVE me a towel. Don't make me beat down this door. GIVE me a towel." He then persisted to repeat himself, getting more angry each go around.
He was as serious as he could be too. This wasn't his way of biting back to my sassiness, he really thought he had to yell at me to give him a rag.
After torturing him for about a minute (much to my selfish entertainment) I opened the door. I was sitting in a chair that blocked his path to the towels, and with my non-biological big brother who has threatened to kill men who've looked at me the wrong way/manager standing there Sam couldn't hurl me into the wall like I knew he was just itching to do. With much expression, I smiled, sat back, threw my hands behind my head, and propped my left foot on my right knee. "I'd LOVE to give you a towel, Sam. THANK you for asking me so sweetly." With a final smirk I threw him a couple white rags. He swiped them from the air and slammed the door in annoyance.
Brad kept counting bills and just laughed. "Atta girl, Little Bit. Don't take sh**."
Though this memory stills makes me laugh, I can't help but wonder. What on earth could have happened to this man that caused him to think that he has to be so aggressive to get some cleaning rags?
posted by Stephanie Carol at
4:32 AM
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