the Change I Wish to See

I guess I was just in the right place at the right time.

This is worth a party in and of itself.  Usually my timing is like finding out about a sale a day too late.¹  But last night, my timing was impeccable.

I had a craving.  Me wanted french fries.  But I don’t believe in commercialism so I went to a little hole-in-the-wall, family-run place that grows all of its food locally.

credit: The Consumerist

What?  Oh, like you never do?  It was a guilty plea, or want, whatever.  Sometimes there’s nothing like “potato” fried in toxic sludge.

Anyway, so I stroll over the threshold and through the door, beneath the golden arches.  And chaos ensues.

At the counter, two men are arguing violently.  Actually, only one man is arguing.  He looks like a local Mr. Puniverse runner-up.

Ok, ok.  So maybe he wasn’t that small.  But whether it’s living in my neighborhood, or watching awesomely bad TV, I know the difference between homemade muscle and prison swole.  And this dude — with a headband, knee-high double-striped socks and a too-tight shirt tucked into stone-washed spandex trunks — was homemade muscle.  Let’s call him “Puny.”

The guy he’s yelling at is the manager, the captain of the place.  Let’s call him “The Captain.”

He’s standing behind the counter, near the thing that makes the shakes.  But he seems to want no part of the screaming.  Apparently, The Captain’s Log (read: franchise manager handbook) said that in moments like these, the first and only thing a manager should do is stand there talking to someone on his red Razr like nothing was happening.  He’s taking the passive-aggressive, don’t-solve-the-problem approach to problem-solving.

I have no idea how long this scene was playing out before I got there.  But after a few seconds, Puny is mad as hell and isn’t gonna take it anymore.  He is wild with his rage.  So you know what he does?

He launches his bag of food into The Captain’s face at point blank range.

Unbefreakinglievably, The Captain sprints around the counter, around me, charging.  Changing his mind just before he speared/kicked/punched Puny, he pulls up and tries to just motion to Puny to leave.  I’m about a foot away from the madness.

Puny isn’t interested in leaving, though.  He backs up, gets into his stance and tells The Captain to, and I quote, “Do it.”  And, well, when someone asks you that politely to dance, you dance.  So The Captain drops into his stance and they start dancing.  Grannies are clutching their grandchildren.  All of the employees are just watching.

Now, this may be true for the ladies as well, but guys tend to know when another guy actually wants to swing.  If he’s gonna hit you, you’ve got maybe a few seconds.  But as soon as the guy crosses the 5 or so seconds mark of screaming, “Do it.  Hit me,” in your face — like he’s going ’round the mulberry bush rather than fighting — you can bet he’s not gonna throw first.

Why is this important?  Because it explains why I just stood there and didn’t do a damn thing.  They weren’t actually gonna fight mid-store.  And they didn’t.  A grandmother eventually steps forward and urged Puny to let it go.  I thought he did.  He goes out the door on the left and it seems we were getting back to normal.  The lady at the counter asks me what I wanted like nothing had happened.  She doesn’t even ask me, “Would you like a fight with that?”

As soon as I get my change, though, The Captain sprints out the door to the right followed by an eager employee.  So what do I do?  I sprint out the door to see wtf is gonna happen.  But either I got there late, or they went off somewhere else…  I go back inside.  I missed the action.

How did I know there was action?  The Captain comes back in the door with red marks on the left side of his face.  And you know what he does?  He pulls a Piper Palin and starts licking his bare hand and wiping his wounds.  Which is cool, which is cool.  Except he works in food service.  So when he heads straight for the fries and starts shoveling them into containers with his spit and blood and dirt and whatever was on Puny’s hands, I thank the baby jebus my fries were already in a bag and decide this just might actually be the best dining experience of my life.

_____
¹See Chris Rock’s 2003 VMAs monologue at 4:00.