Cranky Workers (Beautifully excuted rant)

Cooks have issues. (A particular one, in particular)

What have I done to you of which has managed to piss you off? Quietly, I just wanted to do my work in peace. Yet, you somehow or rather have an issue with me.

I do not mind if I had done something bad to you during the past, or that you have decided to hate me during the course of time, which then of course is your problem, not mine.

I opened the chiller, happily wanting to gather some oranges for the juicer. That's the first location of which we were in contact. You were stocking up fruits in the chiller, filling it up for some reason with your shirt off. (Not that you look fit anyway) Your tattoo and eyebrow piercing on your left eye definitely meant that you were someone I would not give a damn about, seeing how "cool" you obviously thought you were.

Oh yeah your hair too. Makes me sick. There is a difference between a spike, and gay.

On seeing me, a nerdy 18 year old boy who is as skinny as a flatten sugar cane stick, you decided within 0.03305 seconds in that Neanderthal skull of yours that you were "cooler" then me. Of course, this is my reasoning based on my observation. But it could be other reasons too:

Maybe it was because of the fumes in the kitchen.
Maybe it was because you didn't want another problem. (If any existed)
Maybe it was because you were preoccupied about not paying the bills in time.
Maybe it was because your motorbike broke down that day and you were late.
Maybe it was because your father just got into the hospital.
Maybe it was because you hated life as a cook.
Maybe it was because your mother didn't love you enough as a child.
Maybe it was because you have ED and couldn't get laid. For your whole life.
Maybe it was because your family died in an accident.
Maybe it was because your grandfather told you that you couldn't succeed in life. With that, you worked hard being a cook to please him. However, on his death bed, he asked you to fuck off and he died with a peaceful conscience.

Therefore, with your chest up and your back straight, you nodded your hair (or head) upwards and said a sentence.

How would you think if someone you don't know came up to you (or you came up to him) and said, "What the fuck do you want?"

a) Hey whatsup bro you are damn cool!
b) Man you are awesome.
c) I want for you to fuck off and die a miserable death with your hands cut off and your throat slash by some robber who only got to steal RM10 from you :)

Of course, taken aback, I could only manage a reply that sounded like this.

"Oranges?"

The next day, I was making ice lemon tea when you stormed out of the kitchen, with a cardboard box in your hand. You came to the bar, place the box on the bar top, and in front of a lunch, peak hour crowd, started to throw pieces of wrapping paper into the air. Then you went on about why there are pieces of paper in the box of apples, and that it somehow was Nic and me at fault. When I tried to explain that I didn't know anything by saying "Huh?" (Taken aback by all this confusion) You said, "Huh? Don't huh me okay who do you think you are." You then carried the box back to the kitchen, maybe feeling satisfied that you have vented off some anger at teenagers whom have no way of defending themselves.

The question is: Who do YOU think you are.

Poor poor you. A barbarian, a viking. Wrong era! People like you make me sick. People like you make me want to vomit. People like you make me wonder why am I still in this lawless, forsaken country. People like you only strengthen my believe that when I can leave this country, I will. People like you defines the general society of Malaysia. Stupid, retarded and unaccomplished in anything.

I believe that this behaviour from you will go on for a few more days, being the asshole you are. You will find reasons of which to blame my friend and I, and this I am certain. I can only do my time in work, and leave knowing the fact that my future should be better then yours if everything goes to plan. Boastful as it may be, but acting as the way you are, I don't give a zark.