This is the final chapter of the Burger King Trilogy. If you have not read the first two installments, “Rhonda’s Panties” and “It’s The Real Thing”, I would recommend doing so before reading this one. It will help you know why Rhonda is getting revenge. I suppose you can do the whole Star Wars thing and enjoy the trio of blogs in whatever order you like.
Whichever manner you choose, the trilogy concludes with Rhonda’s Revenge.
Whichever manner you choose, the trilogy concludes with Rhonda’s Revenge.
As with all jobs, my time working at Burger King was marked with numerous changes. Not only did I see a multitude of people come and go; even the management team changed. When Mike was rather unceremoniously “relieved” of his assistant manager job, Rhonda swooped in and gobbled it up.
That’s right, my nemesis Rhonda became assistant manager and was an even bigger thorn in my side. The increase in her authority and power didn’t bode well for those of us that had dared to challenge her in the past. From that point on, Rhonda was the bane of my existence.
Things were never quite the same after she became the assistant manager. It didn’t take long for the wrath of Rhonda to wreak havoc on my idyllic Burger King world.
Her reign of terror was legendary. Under her jurisdiction, nobody did their job well enough to meet her stringent standards. What was good enough in the past, no longer was. There was a new sheriff in town and her name was Rhonda.
If you wanted to work at Burger King you did things her way. Your days were numbered if you didn’t march in lockstep with her new regime or if you were foolish enough to question her supremacy.
Some employees embraced Rhonda’s new “system” and kowtowed to the oppressive dictator. They did whatever she said, no matter how senseless or pointless it was. The faithfulness of this throng of mindless minions greatly delighted her.
Then there was the other group who had a problem accepting Rhonda’s demented style of management and often challenged her demands. Life at the home of the Whopper wasn’t particularly pleasant for those who chose that path.
If you read “Rhonda’s Panties”, you can probably figure out which faction I belonged to. It wasn’t long after Rhonda was promoted to assistant manager when that little incident would come back to haunt me.
It wasn’t unusual for us to hang out at Burger King when we weren’t working, especially if Rhonda wasn’t there. It was fun to socialize with co-workers, many of which had become friends. We would sit around talking while enjoying a soft drink.
That’s what I had planned to do on a late Sunday afternoon. Having closed the night before, I decided to stop in, get a Coke and see who was working. That was the beginning of the end.
When I walked up to the cash register, Janet looked at me uncomfortably and said, “You better go look at the bulletin board, Paul.” Noting the uneasiness in her demeanor, I quickly made my way to the backroom to see what she was talking about.
The bullet board, located next to the time clock in the backroom had the usual things posted on it. You know, things like the work schedule, company policies and any upcoming announcements. That was usually all it ever had on it.
But on that fateful day there was one more item pinned to the bulletin board. It was a note written by Rhonda on the back of a page from an order pad. Although it was addressed to me, it did not start out with “Dear Paul”.
No, the purpose of the note was to blast me for the job that Marty and me had done closing the night before. And she wanted everyone that worked at Burger King to see it.
The note was spiteful and malicious, pointing out any small detail that we had overlooked the previous evening when cleaning up. While she was mean and vindictive in the critique of the job I had done, she actually took it fairly easy on Marty.
Thinking back, that shouldn’t have surprised me. You see, Marty was an ass-kisser, one of Rhonda’s faithful minions. Plus, he had never made the grievous error of mentioning her flowered panties in front of everyone.
After carefully reading her nasty public evaluation of my performance, I decided that it was in my best interest to respond in kind. Borrowing a pen from Janet, I proceeded to write a rebuttal to her review.
My reply was factual while being concise. It might have been a bit sarcastic. Okay, it oozed sarcasm, bordering on being sardonic. But I was careful to avoid being contemptuous. After all, she was the assistant manager.
Satisfied with what I had written, I proudly signed and pinned my note right next to Rhonda’s on the bulletin board. At age 17, I figured what was good for the goose was good for the gander. With a content look on my face, I returned the pen to Janet and left. Take that Rhonda!
Well, she took it alright. The next day during lunch at school, Hayes, a fellow Burger King employee, found me and related some rather alarming news. During his free period he had gone over to Burger King to check the new work schedule. He found his hours for the upcoming week, what he didn’t find were mine.
Evidently, Rhonda didn’t appreciate my response to her public assessment of the job I did on Saturday. In fact, it enraged her enough for her to cross my name completely off of the schedule. I guess she didn’t want me making Whoppers anymore.
After school, I drove over to Burger King to see what was going on. Upon arriving, I discovered that Rhonda had indeed put a big blue line through my name on the schedule. She had fired me.
As I turned from the schedule, there stood Rhonda, the antithesis of all that is good and fair, smiling her diabolical grin. I brushed by her as I went to talk to George in the manager’s office.
George was head manager and I wanted to get his take on the situation. I knocked on his door and he called out weakly, “Come in, Paul.” He was obviously expecting me. When I entered, he was sitting at his desk with his head in his hands. He was distraught and looked more disheveled than usual.
“Paul, why did you have to write that note?” was the first thing out of the troubled manager’s mouth. When I replied that she shouldn’t have posted her note on the bulletin board, he agreed, saying, “I know, I know.” But he was wasn’t happy.
He explained that he was in a tough predicament. While what Rhonda did was unprofessional, she was the assistant manager and he couldn’t undermine her authority. On the other hand, he valued me as an employee and didn’t want to lose me.
While this was going on, a small group had gathered outside of the office. The walls were paper-thin and didn’t quite reach the ceiling. The people out there had a good idea what was happening. I am sure Rhonda filled them in on anything they may have missed.
Finally, George cleared his throat and told me he had a solution. If I would apologize to Rhonda, everything would be forgotten and I wouldn’t lose my job. It would be like none of this had ever happened.
After pausing ever so briefly, I said to George, “You mean all I have to do is apologize to Rhonda and I keep my job?” For the first time that afternoon, George smiled, nodding his head and saying yes.
That smile left his face just as fast as it had appeared when I grabbed his hand, firmly shook it and told him, “Thanks for everything, George, it was nice working for you.” His face went colorless as he slumped back into his chair.
Greeting me as I left the office was a smirking Rhonda and her witless cohorts. They were waiting for me to apology, like a puppy with his tail between his legs. I spoiled their feel-good moment when I lied and said, “It was nice working with you, Rhonda.” As their jaws dropped in unison, I left the backroom at Burger King for the final time.
The Burger King Trilogy is now complete. I have many fond memories of that place. However, there might have been more it wasn’t for Rhonda and her damn panties.
Until next time…from the booth.