Awwww, folks. The number of times I hear that from an angry customer at work. One would think that cops, bartenders, or hookers being bitched slap by their pimps would hear this. Occupational hazard. But a manager at the movies? Seriously? Sadly, yes.
We had a verbally violent COD yesterday. He originally wasn't mine either. I was sitting in the customer service office talking to my boss, and I had a clear, front seat view of the podium usher. I notice, in that unimportant way, three customers talking to the employee. I see some slight aggravation but nothing that concerns me. Then I see one of the other managers talking to them. I hear "Sorry....no ID....sorry, sir...." I'm paying attention but not really. I hear more heated tones. Slightly raised voices. "You'll have to leave.....sorry....calm down....."
I'm watching from the window, still talking to my boss. Another manager taking care of it. Then I see something that forces adrenalin to my heart. There were three customers. A girl and two guys. The bigger of the two guys does this forward lunge and yells out, "FUCKING BITCH!" He never touches the manager and then the three walk away. I tell the boss that I've got to go take care of a customer that needs to leave immediately.
When I walk out of the office, I see the three walk to the game room and sit down. I walk over there and tell them that they have to leave the premises. Big dude tells me that he doesn't want to waste the food he just bought. "That's fine," I say. "Take it with you. You need to leave."
Big dude starts cussing and yelling as I'm trying to escort him out of the building. His cohorts follow with smaller dude asking about refunds. I tell them to leave. Big dude is still yelling. I tell him to leave. More yelling, demanding that I listen to smaller dude. I warn him a couple of times that he needs to leave right now before I call the cops and that I'm not listening to anything until he leaves the premises. "YOU FAT BITCH!" Starts to walk away but turns around and hands me some of his concessions asking me to throw them away. In a sweet voice I reply, "I sure will. I'll take care of that for you."
Then I turn to smaller dude as his friend walks out the door. I tell him that I'm not concerned about money and refunds when he and his friends were causing destruction in the building with their attitudes. I'm more concerned about getting them out. I refuse to help them and only want all of them out of the building. Smaller dude gets very angry and as he and his woman leave he says, "You're going to lose a lot of money because of this." I tell them to have a nice day.
Now....here's the thing. The big guy lunged at a woman who was smaller than him. He yelled and cursed her in such a violent way that it made everyone quake. He did this in front of a line of mothers and their 8 year-old daughters who were just trying to get by to see that Hanna girl. He was physically bullying other people. I don't put up with shit like that.
My instinct in a situation like that was to break his fucking knee caps. I wanted to knock his ass to the floor and beat him down. I don't like when I feel that way because it's violent. And I don't react that way. I do opposite because reactions like that get you into big, big trouble. I will not back down to assholes like that and I get called a fat bitch quite often because I don't.
Let me be a five year old girl for a moment. That shIt hurts my feelings. I don't like getting called a bitch because I wonder if I really am. I take it personally. And being called a fat bitch, doesn't send my self-esteem soaring over the clouds in euphoric waves of sugar-coated dreams. It's part of the job I don't like. I'll take a hit. Believe me...physical intimidation doesn't scare me. I've stood face to face to a hard core Marine Drill Instructor that came back from Cambodia fucked up in the head. A 5'6" squatty angry guy doesn't scare me. But call me a fat bitch....ow.
I don't let it show. I take it on the chin. I take care of business. I want to say things that would show these assholes that they missed the opportunity to really insult. I want to spew out insults that they with IQs smaller than a mole rat would have trouble understanding. I want to go Cyrano de Bergerac on their asses. But I don't. I refrain. Their attitudes awaken this temper I've had all my life. I keep it small and leashed for fear of suffering the consequences. Despite the overwhelming need to smash an asshole's face with my fist, I speak with unquavering resolve and end it with diabetic coma sweetness....it pisses the angry ones off just a little more, I've learned.
Eh! The anger eats at me for days following after incidents like that. Feels horrible. Eh! All because we said 'no' to the girl because she didn't have ID for the Rated R movie ticket purchase. Bullies!