Wendyโ€™s Creep

I was only sixteen when I started working at my local Wendyโ€™s. Customer service never really sounded appealing to me as a pre-teen, taking more crap from people then I needed to wasnโ€™t at the top of my bucket list. Being a minor at the time, I couldnโ€™t work most week days, due to homework and the need to keep a proper sleep schedule. During the weekends is when I was brought in to close, nearly every night, if I didnโ€™t tell them ahead of time that I wanted a weekend day off. Even then, they would sometimes ignore my requested days off, and have me work anyways, something that annoyed me to no end.

My story starts on a late Saturday night, I had been at Wendyโ€™s for over a year now, and was the go-to closer for back window. At night, typically only three people closed, along side a manager. One on front window, one in back window, and one on grill, keeping the store in line while the manager stayed in the office doing more important things. My job was simple, cash out all drive-thru customers, and wash dishes. Luckily, business had died down at night around ten oโ€™clock, and I happily cleaned the dishes coming my way. Thatโ€™s when the familiar ding on my headset rung in my ears, signaling there was someone in the drive thru.

I listened carefully to my co-worker take the manโ€™s order, and noticed his voice was quite low and rough sounding, slurring his words ever so slightly. I thought not much of it, many people through the drive thru speakers sounded different once I spoke to them in person. The car pulled up to my window, as I clicked the recall button to pull up the total to his order.

โ€œHeya, cutie,โ€ the saggy blonde haired man mummers, greeted me before I could even open my mouth. I was taken aback. Iโ€™m a terribly awkward and jittery girl, very easily flustered and lacking in the social department. I laughed nervously at the comment, giving a simple, โ€œHi there,โ€ and repeating the amount he owed for his order, trying to redirect the conversation.

Thatโ€™s when he stopped. He just, stared at me. A full minute passed, I began to wonder if he heard me. โ€œUhm, sir-โ€œ I repeated myself once more, trying not to sound as impatient or anxious as I was feeling. He responded this time, reaching downward to grab his bronze wallet, silently extending the money towards me. With a polite, โ€œthank you,โ€ I rang in the amount and collected his change back.

Extending my plentiful hand of money out to him, he reached out a grabbed my hand, no letting go. I panicked in the back of my mind, not knowing what to do. The creep pulled my hand towards him, and kissed my knuckle, taking his change back, giving me a grin. Thatโ€™s when I smelt alcohol, and saw the open cans of beer in his cup-holders. I yanked my hand away, before he pulled forward to the next window.

In an instant, I ran up to the front window, telling my co-worker, Mary, not to hand out his food yet. Explaining that the guy was clearly drunk, me and Mary decided to tell him that his sandwich was going to be cooked fresh, and would take a few minutes. Angrily, he agreed to wait, while I snuck off to the office, pounding on the door, and telling the manager to call the cops quickly.

Though Mary did her best to distract the guy, he got antsy and eventually took off. The cops were too late. Luckily though, I was smart enough to snap a picture of his license plate, and he was easily found out and arrested. The more I think back on the incident, I feel unnerved and uneasy to think of what more damage he may have caused by driving, and how many other underaged girls he wouldโ€™ve hit on that night as well. Though it was just unwanted physical contact, I felt dirty to say the least. I took a very long shower that night I got home.

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