“I don’t care about this or that, just bring me my food, for fucks sake!” A small guy, with green glasses and a pony that hid more than half of his face talked to Timothy, who stood behind the counter. His hairs were colored in pure black. He wore a gray jacket and black joggers, both full of mustard stains or ‘what-ever-fluid-that-was’.

‘Don’t even think about it,’ the red-eyed thought, while he tried to avoid his glance going to the stains, or the customers eyes. “Again, I’m sorry but still, there are technical errors with the machines, we can’t proceed until it is fixed,” he said. A try to calm the crowd, who were aggressive and inpatient, as if they were about to grab their pitchforks and torches, erasing the local with merciless hunger.

The little, slender Glasses-Guy stood up, acting like a leader. His eyes were not visible, since his glasses reflected, what his pony did not hide already. But a certain feeling came up to the red-eyed when he was looking at him. A aura, that was suffocating and absorbing…

‘He’s not as delicate as he looks,’ he thought. Because, even though the arms and the legs of the Glasses-Guy were thin like toothpicks, he had a black and devastating energy. ‘There’s something off, I don’t even have to really look at him.’ Which he really tried to strongly avoid.

“Then just repair it, and give us what we deserve. Aren’t you tired of this shit? We pay them, without us, they’d be bankrupt and this is how they treat us? We aren’t worth simple maintenance?” The Glasses-Guy said, talking to the people behind him, the other impatiently and hungry waiting.

‘A freaking half our… and they go crazy like this?’ the red-eyed thought, while the others railed up. Literally, a crowd with pitchforks and torches now.

“He speaks truth,” a man with a pink shirt and a big, brown mustache, said. “You should be thankful for us paying your job!”

“You can’t just let us here, we are hungry,” a woman said. She wore a yellow top, her hairs had a mix of brown and blue. “We have children here, they were excited about their meal, now look at them!” She said. Her tone got louder and louder, her children started to whimper.

'They're kidding me, right?' Timothy thought.

“That’s indeed understandable, still I must beg you, to be a bit more patient. I’m not the manager, I’m not a mechanic or electrician or whatever we need here… all the others here and I, are just normal service employees. Please have a bit more patience, as I said before, we would give you drinks for free, with pleasure, since you have to wait," Timothy said. His co-workers beside him were astounded. Especially Beth, since he had such a calm mind, and made decisions like he had the responsibility and authority, which he hadn’t.

Some of the people whispered. Things like, “maybe we should keep calm? This guy tries his best, although that’s not his fault,” and “guess we were too harsh. It’s the fault of the manager lastly, not of the simple workers here.”

But all efforts were not enough for the mighty leader. He filled up with joy, the longer their rage lasted.

“You just can’t be serious?” the Glasses-Guy said. The most were a little shocked. Timothy handled the situation more than good, even before. Managed the communication with his boss and the co-workers, offered them something to fill up the waiting time and stayed calm. Still for this little one, it just wasn’t enough. He wanted some trouble and wanted to give the red-eyed a hard time. ‘Why does this guy hate me that much…’

“He is not responsible you say? He,” the Glasses-Guy said, and pointed to the other workers behind the counter and in the kitchen, “everyone of them is responsible. Everyone of them has to take care of their products, tools and communications. When something isn’t working, they are just as responsible as their boss!”

‘What the fuck is your problem?’ the red-eyed thought. His rage rose up, images of beating the shit out of that guy, came through his mind, smashing his fist in that ugly face, over and over again.

“We should all calm down. There is no need of making such a drama, that’s ridiculous,” someone in the crowd said. Some turned their heads a bit, looking at the one, but for Timothy or the Glasses-Guy it was not visible. The opinions got mixed up.

“No it’s not. It is our right to eat here, if we want to. What they do is a disgrace, they just c-” and he wanted to continue with his rant, but got interrupted. Another little one slid through the crowd, toward the two of them on the counter. The little blue-eyed.

“You’re right, it’s not ridiculous, just you are. Making such a fuss, for nothing! As if this was a movie or drama, calm down, don’t you have other worries or problems in your life? Have nothing better to do, than insulting innocent workers, who just try to do their job, and have problems as any other human?” he said.

The crowd behind them seemed to calm down. They looked ashamed by following such a stupid rant about nothing. The guy from before, with the brown mustache, apologized to Timothy and then left. Others took the offers for the free drinks and sat down. But all of them stared at one person, the guy with the glasses. They pitied him, how he just stood there, completely alone and embarrassed by Chandler. Still, all of them made fun of him, internally, which he could feel.