I have several reasons why I think I'm a terrible person. I originally was going to write a longer one detailing another example today, but I'm exhausted, lazy, and eager to do a shorter one instead. So here goes.
I currently work at a restaurant and have been there for almost three full weeks. I'm in this management training program, and--if all goes well and I stick with it--I will be an assistant manager in a little over two months. Originally, I assumed this position alone, but as of last week two other guys started the program as well. Since I was hired before they were, I am further along in the program and work independently. They work more as a team.
Yesterday we all conveniently took our breaks at about the same time. One of the guys, Dom, is a lazy fuck. I see him goofing off all the time, hanging out in the front making idle conversation and abusing the crap out of the free meals managers are allowed. He's also fairly mild mannered and shy. The other manager to be, James, is a completely different story. He will talk to the sunny side of a barn and be happy to do it. Unlike Dom and me, he has been in the restaurant business since his teenage years and has plenty of stories to tell.
The break quickly turned into a session of James telling us some of his stories about working in the restaurant business. A few of his stories involved drunken customers, fights that have broken out, and other ridiculous, redneck things. He was trying to compare working in a restaurant to serving in active duty in Iraq or serving a few years in jail. He "has seen everything" he could see during his time at restaurants. He has even seen someone die, which leads to the point of this story.
Always eager for time killing conversation, I was at first eager to listen to James' stories. After awhile, however, boredom and my short attention span began to settle in; and I began my "auto-pilot" responses of just smiling, nodding my head, and saying "yeah" over and over again. Once he mentioned seeing a man die, my attention fully perked back up. I asked him what happened, and he told us that a man once keeled over in a cafeteria line once. He was old, around 80 or 85, and his aorta exploded. James stressed the fact that this freak accident was (obviously) so severe that, even if EMTs were available on the spot as it happened, there was nothing that could be done.
He mentioned the serious concept of the aorta explosion with such noncommital, deadpan delivery that I burst out laughing. His delivery and the insanity of such a thing happening came across as not only humorous, but downright hilarious. Dom looked at me like I had just slapped him in the face, and James' look was not far from that of his; my reaction to his story was obviously not what he had anticipated.
Anyway, that's what makes me a bad person.
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