Pizzas in a donut shop January 27, 1985

 


Dear Joe:

What bothers me about the whole matter is that you have no clue as to why I am angry, nor do you care. You seem satisfied to let things go or to pass over everything with a joke. This forces me to make clear why I am so upset.

First, there is the matter of the pizza – a small item considering what came later. You insisted on using my oven at 1 a.m. forcing me to rush through making my muffins so the oven would be ready on time – only to have for henchmen, Bill come and tell me you wouldn’t need the oven until 2:30 a.m. after all.

I got upset and showed it, telling Bill you should use the oven as the bagel shop since I couldn’t take the chance you might change your mind again.

Then, as I suspected might happen, you decided to cook the pies at 1 a.m. after all because any later wouldn’t be convenient for the bagel shop, I cooked the pies, but when nobody came to collect them after a half an hour, I shut the doors to the store.

I figured if you wanted the pies enough, you’d come knocking.

Next thing I know some idiot is hanging on the back bell. I figured it was you. But since there was only one person, I concluded you hadn’t come to collect your pies.

It turned out to be Steve – your mother hen – telling me, “Joey wants his pies back, mean old Al.”

You didn’t even have guts enough to come get your own pies, more of the typical bullshit Bill complained about with you all along.

That’s why I told Steve I would tell Bill about some of the games you’d been playing behind his back – I was that angry.

 And that neither of the two-night guards charged with keeping the mall safe overnight had courage enough to find out why I was pissed.

What you do outside in the mall matters little to me. If you want to play games in the dark halls, I don’t care. But the minute you interfere with my work, I get pissed. I can’t afford to have you interfere with my baking schedule so I can make your lunch. And this is not the only thing. For weeks, you and Bill have been disrupting me and it is not the first time I shut the door in order to get my work done.

You had just enough gumption to spread rumors about me in the night crew, claiming I was crazy.

It never occurred to any of you that Al might like to be treated with a little consideration.

I like Bill, but he’s dumb enough to listen to your schemes, but doesn’t hide behind his night stick and badge the way you do.  He never comes into the store and takes without asking, never makes himself a new pot of coffee when there’s one already there.

The fact that you control access to the mall gives you power over me, and I suppose having the door locked and making your rounds at the precise time I show up for work is your way of getting even with me, forcing me to wait until you get back, causing me to fall even further behind. And that smug look on your face when you get back saying, “Sure, Al, I locked the door and there ain’t nothing you can do about it.”

So, as you see this has been building for quite some time. But the fact that you made cooking your pizzas a priority over the work I have to do was the last straw.

The fact that didn’t come to collect your own damned pies tells me you knew just how pissed I was.

And be careful swinging you night stick outside the store door, you might hit yourself in the back of the head.

 

 

Sincerely yours,

Al

 

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