Chapter Text
Dropping the goody two-shoes facade and sticky-sweet smile wasn’t exactly how you meant to go about it. It wasn't your fault, you think, that other people wasted their potential to be decent human beings towards those in the customer service department. Did strangers really believe in your eager-to-help personality? That you adored the oncoming sass and ignorant attitudes of entitled white women with their racist husbands? Or even having to suffer the oncoming kicking and scratching and high-pitched wailing of their spoiled toddlers? Because, if they did, they were foolish. Absolutely foolish.
You plopped yourself at the employee table in the backroom, combing through your hair out of either pure frustration or relief (mostly the latter). Letting your temper get the best of you was unheard of in the workplace. You were the five-star employee that marched onwards with a weary smile and a level head, always aiming for top-tier customer satisfaction. The model that others looked up to; an icon!
But at this point, you didn’t really care. Or maybe you never did.
The textbook definition of “Karen” had waltz up to the register, stringing along her ugly, little look-alike gremlins. Two sons and a daughter. All who were equally irritating, as expected.
You couldn’t really pinpoint the exact few words she had said that snapped the littlest bit of sanity you had left. Her passive aggressive way of talking had already made you slightly uncomfortable, but it was nothing you couldn’t handle. The way she slammed her fake designer back on the front table, knocking over the little trinkets you had standing upwards, was also something you were used to.
Maybe it was how you couldn’t even finish saying your well-practiced, award-winning greeting that had also rubbed you the wrong way. You weren’t a fan of people talking over you, let alone, cutting you off mid-sentence. It was your biggest pet peeve. Karen had already inserted herself in your list of people you’d hate to know on a personal level, nevermind her attitude.
Either way, you eventually lost it. You had slammed your hand atop the table, aiming a stormy glare at the lady in front of you. That had got her shut up momentarily, as she gasped in disbelief at your sudden change of attitude. Your light-hearted choice of words had switched to an explicit choice of vocabulary, so to say.
“Hey lady. I don’t think I’ve warranted anything that deserves disrespect. Aren’t you being a little harsh towards me for no reason?” You began, your lips forming a thin line.
“Excuse you?” She replies, placing a hand on her chest. Her children had finally perked up from their former bickering or whining; you weren’t really paying any attention to them. “I’m the customer here! Your job is to offer me great service. You’re being difficult for no reason!”
Taking a deep breath, you sighed. Loudly.
“I’ve explained to you as many times as I could’ve, ma’am. If the big boss says no, then the answer for you is no. I’ve repeated myself multiple times. At this point, I can’t take your service.”
“You can’t refuse my service, I’m your paycheck!” She retaliates, squinting her eyes towards the crooked nametag on your shirt. “(Y/n)! I want the manager here, now! You’re obviously too young and unreprimanded to know how to do your job. I want you fired!” Karen hollers, it being her turn to slam her fist against the table.
Now you remember: this was the very moment you decided to throw it all away.
“I’ll take the pleasure of leaving myself! You people are so inconsiderate and rude, and for no damn reason! I do my job by the book every single day and get nothing but crap!” Swiping away the nametag from your chest, you threw it haphazardly behind you. “It’s people like you that make customer service so difficult, Karen! I’d like to see you try to uphold the nice-guy charade six days a week, having to tolerate the bullshit that comes from your mouth!”
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And here you are, scratching at your scalp in a feeble attempt to calm yourself. You were for sure out of a job with no alternatives to fall back on. Then again, you didn’t really plan on quitting this one, either.
The amount of stress and pure irritability you had accumulated over the past year and a half had been bursting at the seams. You had been struggling for the longest time to keep up the cool and collected attitude you were known for. Could they really blame you, though? People were so hateful and bitter and repulsive towards you and your coworkers for no reason!
Fully grown adults throwing temper tantrums and demanding free compensation for not getting what they want. Unsupervised, little children running around the store, creating all sorts of chaos and disorder. Spoiled teenagers who believed they were just SO amazing throwing about curses and slurs and all sorts of profanity your way. Even the elderly felt they were entitled just because they were old!
“God, I’m over it.”
“Frankly, I am, too.”
You shot up, now face to face with your boss of all people: Cyrus. An older, elderly sort of man who you’d classify as a typical grandpa. Thin, gray hair to match his age, a belly gut, and a shaggy moustache that could really use a trim in your opinion.
A sense of dread embodied your very core before you sit upwards, nice and straight. Nervous.
They weren’t giving you a look of disdain or scorn; in actuality, he didn’t seem remotely upset on the outside at all, much to your confusion.
Cyrus leaned against the entrance of the doorway with his arms crossed, looking down upon your form as if he was scanning you. Analyzing your entire being. Or, he was debating whether or not it was his turn to lose his cool.
Before you could speak up, a heavy sigh escaped his lips as he shook his head. Placing a hand on his hip, his stone-like expression had changed into something a little more soft.
“It took you long enough,” he began. “To break a bit.”
“What?” You shook your head, baffled. What did he mean by that?
He chuckled. “I’ve been waiting for you to finally let loose a little. Not so much towards a customer, but in general. What happened, happened.”
You were almost at a loss for words. “You’re just going to... ignore the fact I just treated someone like crap because I was upset? I practically told the world I’m fired.”
Your boss sighed once more as he offered a tired, old smile. “(Y/n), you’ve been working here for the longest time. I’ve been looking for a reason to finally let you go anyways. Isn’t it time?”
He stepped forward to grab the empty seat to your left, settling himself comfortably next to you. “You’re still young, much younger than I am. You should use that to your advantage; get out of town, go see the world for a bit. You’ve got so much more in you then to be shackled here.”
You were definitely at a loss for words now. You had no idea that he’d been thinking as far as your future, let alone really caring.
“Sir, I-”
“I don’t want any buts or ifs or whatever else you kids say these days. Go grab your stuff and get your butt outta here, (Y/n). You’re my best employee, so go home and be free before I change my mind.”
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You had never been so excited to do more.