I learned Taekwondo, punched my boss and slammed her into the ground, and she started

respecting me.

Part 1. When I was a 15-year-old girl, I worked at a major donut shop chain in Canada.

Yeah, you know the one. There are more of these shops than McDonald's here, and everyone goes

there. It's like a cult. I used to work at a corporate store that

trained new franchisees and retrained old ones that were cutting corners. Yikes. In addition to our

regular operations. I used to train franchisees on how to operate the back-end baking shift from

4 a.m. until noon. I loved my work. I loved meeting new people. I loved showing

them the process. I loved my company and I loved my two managers. It was great, except when it came to

my inspector. Let's call her Mary. Mary was a district inspector and she had it in for all of us

there. Our staff would see her red car in the

parking lot and scrambled to tidy up. She loved coming in when we were slammed, with a line up

out the door, tables needing to be cleared, donuts flying off the racks, and everyone just trying to

keep up, never mind taking your break. People used to freak when they saw her car pull up. She was slim

with big curly orange hair and a mean streak. She was an in-house inspector that worked for

corporate and seemed to really enjoy her job, marking faults and handing her reports to our managers

for them to file. She enjoyed her work until she came into the kitchen when I was working,

which was most days. She hated it work until she came into the kitchen when I was working, which was most days.

She hated it when I worked. Because I had to train people all the time, I had to keep a clean kitchen, with everything stocked, because it needed to be ready for the next shift where I trained

people. It was also in great shape because the cleaning and refilling and prepping and operating

the kitchen

decode was what I did with the franchisees while training them. It more or less took care of

...