the first time i lone-closed was superbowl sunday. i was there for twelve hours.
the second time was saturday night, after we'd been closed thursday and friday thanks to the 60 inches of snow covering halifax. all the prep had to be thrown out and replaced, and there were only two of us working, all day. the town was under curfew from 10p-7a, so i (12-8 shift) closed up, left the mess behind, and was out at 10.
the third time was the sunday following, which was pretty much the same as saturday -- same people working, same shitload of work to do. curfew wasn't on, but my manager thought it was, so i was told to close again. this time, i stayed and tried to do a proper close -- again, i was there for twelve hours, at which point, the mop broke on me and a garbage bag full of old meat vomited its insides all over the floor.
last night was going to be the normal night. sure, there was lots of work to do, and it was pretty busy -- but that's not unusual.
at nine o'clock, my lovely gay coworker mark left me alone in the place. the only other person there was a man sitting in one of the yellow booths nursing a soda. i saw him with his head down on the counter, and was about to go ask if he were okay, when he stood up and pitched a bar stool, with all his might, out the double-paned glass window and onto the street.
then he sat back down.
the window was huge -- probably 8 feet tall by 10 feet wide, but i'm not good with measurements. the hole in the glass was enormous, and as the wind came through, i could hear it cracking further.
in my state of shock (hey, it was a loud noise, okay?), i went out and told him he'd better leave. then i looked at him. something wasn't right. i can't remember what exactly -- it was his eyes, maybe, or the look in his face. it was frightening. he left, i wandered around staring at this massive hole in the glass thinking that there was NO WAY i'd be able to pretend it hadn't happened. people walked by on the streets looking through the window at me as though the fiesty sanwich artist had lost it and sent her (five-foot wide) fist through the window.
it was getting pretty fucking cold.
the police picked the guy up about three minutes after he left me. halifax is such a bloody small town. turns out he'd gotten out of jail just ten minutes before he came to visit me. he wasn't even out for half an hour before he was back there.
i feel a little uncomfortable about having sent someone to jail. especially someone with that much anger in him. i mean, i can empathize. i've broken windows with my arms before. i still have scars. and really, i would have liked to have burst that hole through the glass, if it weren't for my misplaced sense of integrity and the like. and who's to say that he's not dealing with his anger more effectively than i am?