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A prostitute, a drunken John and a Burger flipper walk into Country Style… sounds like a bad joke

UGH! I’m so pissed off… and I’m still shaken. I don’t understand how the boss thinks it is safe to have ONE person working 6pm-12am. Seriously???? I understand that he’s going under and trying to save money. I understand that we’re not busy. I really do. But what gives him the right to put that person’s life at risk? Yes, nothing serious has happened but it could have. The Country Style I work for is in South Oshawa. Most of you won’t know where that is but some of you who live by Toronto would. It’s by GM… and isn’t the safest of areas, known for it’s prostitutes, druggies/alcoholics, some murders. Like the 19 yr old that stabbed his brother to death right down the road from where I live. Fine, I deal with it, I stay in at night. But 4 or 5 days a week I work the 6pm-12am shift. Alone.

Tonight was actually quite busy after 9pm. I was constantly running around. At 10:40ish or something, a woman comes stumbling in and immediately asks me to call her a cab. Ok… not an odd request so I go do it. I come out to see her sitting across from a regular, elbows bleeding as she tells them about how some guy tried to rob her and all she got out of it was cuts and scratches on her elbows. So I go get some napkins and bandaids. I’m trying to be nice when we all know she’s a call girl. At this point it was just me and the two regulars (Paul and Wayne). No one else in the store.

Now, you have to realize that the Country Style I work at is next door pretty much to Mr Burger, ok?

So it isn’t long after this woman stumbles in and sits in front of Wayne at his booth (Paul standing by the swinging door to get behind the counter, behind Wayne), when two men come storming in, one heading straight for the phone, the other instantly grabbing this woman, screaming that she stole his money. I don’t find out til later that the guy at the phone was a burger flipper at Mr Burger where this all began in his parkinglot apparently. So here I am, wondering what the heck to do.

Do I intervene? Do I tell them to calm down? What if he has a weapon?

I’m terrified. I won’t lie. I’m a country small town girl. He’s yelling and she’s yelling that she doesn’t have his money. He grabs her by the hair and she’s hitting him to get him off her. I don’t know what to do. He won’t let her go, blocking her way completely, pushing her back into the booth when she tries to leave.

What does she do?

She undoes her pants. Yes… her pants where she wasn’t wearing a stitch and pulls out a five dollar bill and tells him that’s all she has. Yeah… right. I don’t know who to believe or care. But sticking money up there doesn’t impress me. SO what does HE do? Pins her and sticks HIS hand down her pants. Finds a balled up pair of underwear and throws it to the ground. What was he wearing you might ask? No shirt… pants undone with nothing on either under.

WTF?!

I’m freaking out and just about to yell at him to get his hands off her. Wayne looks over at me with wide eyes and shakes his head, telling me not to say anything. They were both bigger than me. I’m small. 5’3, 103lbs. I couldn’t have taken them if he freaked and went at me (which is why I’m glad Wayne and Paul were there). Again, he could have had a knife. I didn’t know.

At this point, the cab shows up. He’s yelling that she isn’t going anywhere. Somehow, she pushes past him and rushes out the door. He’s following after and the cab driver knows better. He doesn’t let her in. Not when she’s knocking at the windows and trying all doors. He drives up and turns around, parks at a stop light. Not sure if the guy gives up or what but somehow she gets in and the cab takes off.

Well he’s pissed. He comes back and his friend tells him to talk to the cops on the phone. There’s blood on the table. Underwear on the ground. It’s over. I hope.

Well they go outside, the two pair, where I guess they began to argue. I was trying to regain my senses and figure out what the hell to do. It happened fast. I didn’t even think about calling 911 and maybe I should have. If I’m alone I would have. But I also would have had to deal with it alone.

Anyway, the two take off in a van because they are annoyed that the cops aren’t there yet. 10 minutes later, the cops show up and who has to tell them everything? Me. And I don’t even understand it. Two cop cars. They show up for maybe 5 minutes then take off.

UGH!

I was shaking. And I guess I looked terrified because Wayne made the comment about how it’s over and to relax. Um… when it’s all locked up I will. Because they could come back. I didn’t know. I just know I’m so angry because there’s only one person on this shift. There should be two. But no. So I wrote him saying if he doesn’t change things, we’re going to call the labour board because the cameras as he tells us, will NOT protect us. Is he sitting at the screen all night, watching from home the cameras? No. So how can it protect us?

A small rant…

I’m tired. Tired of work. Tired of the cold shoulders of friends. Tired of writing. Tired of everything.

I just want a day off. A full day. A day where I don’t need to run around like a chicken with its head cut off. A day where I can relax and sleep in if I want. A day where I don’t feel guilty or hurt about something. I want to rewind the clock, to go back to a time when I thought I had everything I needed– a guy I loved, a best friend who was interested in what I was up to and wanted to hang out with me and talk, a job that I only worked maybe 20 hours a week because I didn’t have to worry about money yet.

Not anymore. Gone are those days. Gone with the boyfriend and the 20 hours has now turned into 65-71 (71 this week). I haven’t been -home- for a full day in… months. Which has made my friend think I’ve abandoned her and all that. I’m tired. I’ve gained new friends. Got back my writing muse. Even have been getting out a bit more but it’s still a s.t.r.e.s.s. headache. All of this. I just fell asleep at my desk for almost an hour… and I don’t just do that occasionally. It’s all the fricking time. I get up for 7ish, get to work for 8:30-4:30, catch the bus to start work at other job 6-12am (5 times a week). I get 6 1/2- 7 hours of sleep. That should be sufficient, right? But it’s not. I think it has something to do with being on my feet for the last 6 hours of the day and running around. I’m wearing thin.

Today, I was supposed to be off in the evening. Did that happen? No. I got called in. Oh sure I could have ignored the red blinking light of my boss calling (within an hour he’d already called 3 times and left two messages) and said I’d forgotten my cell, but he wouldn’t have bought that. Seriously. So I said sure. Why? Because I have to make money. I don’t get paid right now for the internship. Not til mid august. I have to move. My roommates have decided they are going to move into their parent’s house where rent is cheaper so it was either move or pay rent that was more than I could afford. So I found a place that was cheaper but that doesn’t mean I have the money either. Not yet. The new landlords have the first month’s rent but that is only because I borrowed from my parents. So here I am, busting my butt off to not only ensure I get a job out of this internship (I was offered a position but it’s til Dec), and to make enough to pay rent and bills.

I’m trying to hang in. But things are getting bad because I’m losing my friend because of all this. Because of hurt feelings and closing off of feelings and the whole shebang. And an email isn’t enough to discuss it all. She wants it done face to face. So I have to do it tomorrow, my only evening off while I do laundry. So on top of being tired tomorrow, I’m going to be a nervous wreck worrying. I hate all of this.

*sighs*

This has been the crappiest couple of months.