My former colleague. Let’s call her Barbara, because that was her name. I was a student earning working part time waiting tables in a chain eatery to earn a few quid.
Barbara was the restaurant supervisor. A bitter, angry menopausal woman whose life had not quite turned out the way she hoped, she was thick, chavvy and almost comically obnoxious. She particularly hated ‘Fucking posh students’, especially those of us studying subjects which would qualify us to enter professional careers. Nothing we did could please her, no drinks could we serve properly, no order could we transcribe accurately, no dessert could we make correctly. We were all fucking shit. Everything we did was fucking shit. The way we wore our uniforms was fucking shit. She never laughed, never smiled and could kill a pleasant atmosphere by just entering it.
We gave her a nickname; ‘the warthog’. In retrospect, this was an outrageous slight on a blameless creature, but at the time we thought it was hilarious. When she found out about it, she was so furious i thought her head was going to explode.