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McBS.

Back in the stock room, I’m cutting box tops when I hear Amy, the closing manager, bark, “I don’t have time for this!” I knew she was yelling at Sally, the shift manager.

Later I found that the story was Sally had put a new girl in back drive-thru and Amy, at least as her assumption goes, would have to train the girl. That was what she evidently had no time for.

That was the story. The backstory, widely known among coworkers, is that Sally is fucking a guy Amy had previously fucked — a guy Amy continuously claimed she was done with in that way that betrays the fact that she’s trying to convince herself more than anyone else. She has no feelings for him, she keeps saying: it was “hit it and quit it.” Amy was unable to accept the feelings she actually felt for the guy, laughing about Sally getting her “sloppy seconds” and how that’s just oh-so gross. For months she found every reason in the world to get angry or be hateful towards Sally — save for the real reason.

We lie to ourselves like it is nothing.

Sally had just put in her week notice a few days back before starting her new job. She had been talking about just walking out if she kept getting shit from our boss or if one of the managers got mouthy with her.

Amy was the shift manager tonight; Sally the closing manager. A friend of Sally’s called off for her shift that night. They had new people. This would not be an easy night. Amy knew that if she gave Sally shit she would walk out. Amy knew that if Sally did walk out she would be running around like a chicken with her head cut off.

And Sally did indeed walk out. She said goodbye to me when I slipped out the back door for a smoke. As she walked towards her car, promised to visit. She left, I finished my smoke and went inside. Amy could not contain her broad and authentic smile.

Then we got busy.

In the midst of the chaos, I was dropping fries for her and she says to me, “This is exactly what I was trying to avoid.”

Bullshit. No it’s not. You aimed for this. You were smiling when I came in from my smoke. I saw it. You are orchestrating your own chaos here. This is self-fulfilling prophecy at its finest. Self-sabotage as an art form, really.

I’ve been there. I can be honest about it. Don’t bullshit me. All of this was easily preventable and you, my dear, are smart enough to know that.

Don’t insult my intelligence by presuming that I’m not smart enough to know you’re smart enough, either. It’s just a double-whammy face-slap.

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