The Deli 2

Prior to meeting Erin, I loved my job. I would wait on people occasionally and do homework when things were slow. I had regular customers who got to know me as “deli girl” and I was working three days a week, which was perfect for a full-time college student. I even had the luxury of flirting with the beautiful pro-shop guy who worked across from me.

Let me take a deep breath and remember him. Ahhh, he was delicious.

Anyway, Erin changed everything. I started getting stressed out every time I had to work. She did not always stop by, but when she did my blood would boil. I guess I was most shocked by her vulgar language in front of customers. The f-bomb seemed to be her favorite. What was wrong with her?

She could tell that I did not like her and I’m pretty certain that she did not know why or care. All she cared about were her difficult grad school classes, which she complained about every visit, and the crap she had to put up with at work.

My girlfriend Julie was hired a few months after me and managed to tolerate Erin. Julie was actually more annoyed with me than anyone. “You need to confront her on her piss poor attitude or let it go.” Julie had decided not to care about Erin or her “piss poor attitude.” Although, Erin did not call Julie “fucking stupid” the first time she met her so she had no personal reason to despise the woman. I, on the other hand, had every reason to find her intolerable.

Then it happened: The moment that pushed me over the edge. The moment where I decided that working at the deli was becoming an impossible task.

Erin pushed her way into the deli with a full cart of restock items and started tearing open boxes. I’d say that she was in one of her “moods” but this girl had only one mood. I decided to stick to my job and intentionally ignore her. I did not want to get sucked into the negative black hole that she created.

Then, she started having problems getting some cream cheese cups out of the box. She tugged and tugged at the tape that would not budge. Finally part of the box gave way and she began tearing the cardboard. The cuss words were flying out of her mouth and then, suddenly, a cream cheese cup was flying right through the air. And the damn thing hit me. Right on the side of the face.

Now normally, I would think something like that was funny, but not today. Erin had pissed me off so much in the past and that this temper tantrum pushed me over the edge. I shot her a look nobody would want to receive. She smiled, a bit embarrassed by her actions, and then quickly apologized. I was so angry that I did not say a word. My silence first made her feel bad, initially, then, she tightened up—clearly upset that I did not make light of the situation.

Granted, I was not hurt by the cheese cup, but who knows what could have happened? It could have hit me in the open eye—blinding me for life! Okay, maybe that is a bit over-dramatic but who chucks a cheese cup across a room anyway? It’s the workplace, not a softball field. If this had been the first time she threw something or if she didn’t have the worst attitude I had ever seen, I would have laughed it off. But she was not funny and hitting someone was bound to happen the way she exploded every time I saw her.

I did not accept her apology nor did I speak to her. I just kept working and decided at that moment I had had enough. She was impossible to talk to because of her temper and inability to regard others, so I chose to go to the man who hired me. I was not messing around.

My appointment with him occurred soon after the cheese cup incident. I was still hot and ready to vent. He called me into his office and seemed surprised to see me. I was a hard worker with little to complain about until I met Erin. I explained my issue with her and her lack of respect for fellow workers and customers. I went on to say that I was not alone in my complaints. Other workers in the deli just put up with her irrational behavior because she was the manager and they did not want to make trouble.

He listened sincerely to my problem and said that he would note my complaint.

That’s it? That’s all you are going to do?

He looked at me with his eyebrows raised waiting for a question.

“That’s it?” I said aloud.

“Well, yes. Your complaint has been filed and we will look into it if there are anymore issues.”

I could not believe it! I thought that I had a valid complaint, that the management would take me seriously and force a change in Erin’s attitude at the very lease or let go if I got lucky. I wanted change so that the deli workers and customers could reclaim the place they chose to gather. Somebody needed to speak up, somebody had to fight for peace. But, even after a desperate effort to make a change, the managers of our company decided to back the cuss-happy pessimist for reasons I did not understand.

I left the meeting disappointed and pretty pissed off, really. My boss thought more about this girl and her rotten attitude than me and my positive attitude. Yet, even though I was mad, I decided to go back to work and hope that my complaint meant something.

I’d like to say that things improved with Erin, but her awful behavior continued and I ultimately quit a job that I had once loved. Nobody should have to deal with that kind of treatment.

Of course, now that I am older and wiser, I realize that speaking to my manager instead of working things out with Erin, personally, was such a cowardly approach. In retrospect, I should have at least attempted a truce with her before weaseling my way to upper management. I’m guessing that my immaturity with the matter most likely explains why her treatment of me actually got worse instead of better.

Nice life lesson, cranky, foul-mouthed grouch wins over immature, do-gooder, headline at nine.