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The sixteenth job I was fired from.

Chopper’s Steaks and Chops. (spring c. 1999)

Fucked with Steve, the new manager from Arizona until it was known I was never welcome back.

(includes the now famed, “just say okay” to whatever the manager says and don’t ever do it line learned from the dishwashers and prep cooks).

I Pissed in the middle of the dining room, got other people to piss on stuff in the dining room.

Every day for months, I would spit on the customer bathroom mirror over and over because the manager knew it was an employee and it made him try to use his brain [which was funny to watch]. I don't even spit, ever, but it was amazing to watch this guy have all these theories on who it was and why they were "fucking" with him (and specifically him).

I tore down corporate slogans and posters, changed the corporate slogans on purpose, refused to memorize the corporate slogans and fucked with the “86” board by writing “86 Steve, the new manager from Arizona”.

I broke stuff on purpose, got other people to break stuff, telling them it was a positive release to their frustration.

I vandalized the bathroom, sampled customer’s food before giving it to them, gave away huge amounts of free food, smoked inside, slurred the bar band and yelled “Play free bird” every night until I got caught.

I took smoke breaks anytime anyone else took a smoke break and always left early without telling anyone.

I started fights with and between employees that I didn’t like and then made them look stupid by having an air tight story that made them look like the bad person.

finally, I just upped my horrible behavior until they asked me to leave, which was coincidently one month before I moved to LA to go to UCLA anyways.

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