I worked for a bar a couple years ago that treated its staff like shit. I lasted two months. It was Black Friday (the friday before Christmas in the UK - staff/office parties galore, general mayhem, people who barely drink getting really drunk and acting like pricks), and I had to get the start of my shift covered by an hour so I could attend my grandmothers funeral. The uniform was pretty relaxed - anything black and smart-casual.
I come in, and the place is rammed, so I hop on the bar and start serving. The assistant manager - an entitled arsehole who couldn't stop cheating on his pregnant girlfriend with anything that had a pulse, approaches me and says the owner is in, and everyone had to wear a shirt. He starts screaming at me on the bar in front of everyone (common behaviour for him) whilst trying to hand me a black shirt. I take it, and it stinks. It stinks really badly of armpits and stale clothes; so someone has obviously worn it a couple times and then left it in the staff room. I tell him it smells. He accuses me of taking the piss out of him by not following the rules, insisting that I am no-one and there was a reason I got paid minimum wage. I defend that I was not informed that I had to wear a shirt for that specific night. I can feel myself becoming upset as dozens of customers glare at us, so ask him if we can talk off the bar in the dishwasher area and tell him I've had a pretty tough day.
He shouts "What? And I haven't had a tough day? I've been working ALL day! Where the fuck were you anyway that you had to get (staff member) to cover your shift huh?!". I tell him I was attending my granny's funeral.
"Oh for fuck sake... it was only your granny..."
I lost my shit. The sad turned into anger. I snatched the shirt out of his hand, threw it at him and shouted "OH SHOVE THIS UP YOUR FUCKING ARSE". I stormed down to the staff room to collect my things, when the duty manager comes in, telling me I need to go apologise to the AssMan. I tell him what happened, and he replies with "You can't walk out, we're short staffed as it is. Go say sorry to him and we can let it go". I tried to take the high road by leaving in silence and he follows me, repeating himself; "We're short staffed! You can't walk out!".
I get to the bar and give my supervisor my till key, apologies to her for leaving her on Black Friday and told her she can do better than this place. I turned to leave, and the Duty Manager quips "Well...you're fired...". I called him bitch tits and left.
The adrenaline was pumping, I left in a blaze of glory and I felt like nothing could stop me, until I got round the corner and burst out crying.