Bit late, but I need to vent. I possibly work with a close relative of 'Ruth'.
So, in an attempt to prevent myself from starving to death, but not earn enough money to pay off my crippling student debt I recently started work at a small, but busy, cafe. Now, as a casual waitress I'm not going to lie, most of the time I spend at work I have no idea what I'm doing. I don't know if the 15th sauce on your wholegrain and fresh burger with a cooked-enough-patty-that-it-isn't-bleeding-but-not-enough-that-it-could-be-classified-as-medium-raw-patty is dairy free, but I'll do everything in my power to find out. I'm slowly learning what to do and when to do it, but that doesn't matter. Not to the troll that lurks in the kitchen, so horrid that she was evicted from the bridge that she hide under for the good of the community. Lets call her Bev, just because I don't like the name Bev.
Now, I have yet to work out what exactly Bev does. Is she hired simply to crush the spirits of ever single soul that happens to stumble into the hospitality industry? Most probably. Built similar to 'Ruth', Bev is the bane of my existence. On my first day. MY FIRST MF DAY I was standing in the kitchen cleaning some plates and throwing away bottles when I hear far off in the distance the screams of small children running for their lives. I pause, turning to the door, just in time to see her enter. The floor shakes as she marches up to me, and grabs my arm. At this point I have no idea what is happening and have accepted the fact that I am going die. Panting she reaches her claw like fingers into the bin and pulls out the two bottles I just threw in.
"What. are. THESE", she seethes into my face. Now I'm not great at introductions, you say Hi I say Hi that's the extent of my conversational skills, but I don't think that sentence is a valid hello. For all I knew she could have been an aggressive gorilla that had escaped from a nearby zoo and was being hunted, sadly though it turns out she wasn't.
Now I'm standing there dumbstruck, but my lack of answer doesn't deter her. Grunting she starts digging through the garbage grabbing all the bottles she can see that have been thrown in there throughout the day. With each one, she screeches like a pig shoves the bottle into the face, enough that I have to physically lean back to avoid having my nose crushed.
"RECYCLING", she barks with every bottle. By the fourth bottle, bein' but a simpl grl, I figure out what she is trying to tell me, " the bottles go into the recycling bin out the back of the kitchen that you have no idea exists".
Finally she tires herself out, sweating and heaving she stands up to her full 5 ft 5" height, and grunts out "Where the hell did they find someone as stupid as you" and then stomps back out, stealing candy from babies and pushing the elderly over as she goes.
Now, since that beautiful introduction, I have had the pleasure of working with Bev for every single on of my shifts since. Statistically, that should not be possible, but somehow it is. Every time I'm rewarded with her racist comments, condescending and egotistical attitude and criticism. I wish I didn't need to eat to survive.
tl;dr: Ruth's relative works with me and I offended Plato on my first day on the job due to my lack of brains.