My Encounter With The Great Big Angry Bitch

While working at Ontario Place, I’ve had the great pleasure of meeting a lot of really cool people: people I’ve worked with or simply met in passing. There’s one time I met a big movie music buff, and we talked for 15 minutes about all kinds of movie music: he liked the older classics and I was into newer composers, but we both had a great time talking.

I also remember a little girl in particular who was more adorable than a whole litter of puppies eyeing you all at the same time, and she loved the hell out of bugs, So much so that when I told her that the movie she was coming to see was all about them, she squealed and smiled her semi toothless smile, her massively wide brimmed white hat bouncing up and down with her tiny little head with her little glasses hanging on for dear life.

Honestly, cutest little girl ever.

However, working at Ontario Place, you get some other people. And you all know where I’m going with this: I’m talking about the big, honking assholes. The kinds of people where really, the word asshole fails to describe just how repulsive those people are, like saying that shit smells “bad”.

In any case, there was one lady in particular who stands out to me: I called her the Great Big Angry Bitch, or GBAB for short. Or Gert for super short.

This story actually starts off with a little old man I’ll call Hubert, or Hub for short. I was standing out front of the theatre, being pleasant and helpful. Hub comes up to me, asking where he can buy some tickets, and I tell him where. He thanks me, and shuffles off to buy some tickets. A couple of minutes later, he shuffles back, tickets in hand, and asks me where are the parking lots. I tell him where they are, and he shuffles off once more. And then he comes back one more time, and he tells me he’s waiting for someone. So I wait with him.

I really shouldn’t have. Saying that this morbidly dressed, redheaded dwarf of malicious rage was an unpleasant person is an understatement I’ve never had the audacity to make. She wore an all black dress on a  sunny day, complete with a shawl and short heeled, closed toe shoes. Silver and golden bangles clattered along her wrist, and her small, shiny watch glittered in the sunlight. Her make up was caked on a face driven to wrinkles, though whether it was because of old age or the power of the dark side is still unclear. This visage of somewhat cluttered evil was framed by hate coloured, rage bent hair that spread down to her shoulders like the claws of a headcrab grasping the shoulders of its latest victim. Gert came down the ramp, swearing and cursing as she went, Waving her arms in the air, she definitely fit the part of “wind bag” and reminded me of a harpy I slew in WoW once. A really big bitchy one.

She waddled down the ramp, waggling her short, anger fuelled arms in Hub’s general direction, screaming and screeching at him. Something along the lines of “where the fuck are they you idiot?”

Needless to say, this came as a bit of a surprise. What surprised me more was that the meek, little man was was MARRIED to this grubby gargantuan gorgon. What really struck me as the final nail needed in her coffin (though certainly not the last one, as you’ll find out) as far as being a bitch was when she said “I’m sorry, my husband’s an idiot. I don’t know what’s wrong with him.”

This, just to remind you folks, was in public, and she was by no means a quiet woman.

The first thing to do was to diffuse the situation. Obviously, this meant finding out what was going on. When I asked how I could help her, she responded in probably the worst way possible.

“How can you help me? Come on, haven’t you heard me? Honestly Hub, (she turned to him at this point) you’re going to be the death of me. Haven’t you been fucking listening? Listen to me, god dammit you NEVER listen! I sear he’s going to kill me. Look, are you going to help or what?”

I can’t make this shit up, folks. Not without a lot of help, and trust me, no one would want to.

It’s at this point that the 2 people I was working with both went inside to go grab the supervisor, and I was left alone with Hub to face this person. She eventually started ranting about the problem: the family had disappeared, and she was worried as to their whereabouts. Or that’s what I’m guessing, considering how hard it was to make out that information from the much more verbal, much louder information that Hub was useless and pointless and a moron.

After whipping out her phone and trying to call the rest of the family, she demands to know where the Swan Boats are so that she can meet them there. When I asked her if I had a map, she starts again.

“Do I have a map? Of course I do! Honestly, why do you work here? Look, this lady at the front gave me this map. She put stickers where she thought I’d like to go. Ohhhh, I’m all sweaty and and tired from the long hallway… HUB! Would you look at this map? For fuck’s sake, are you stupid? Look at the god damn map! Fuck! Where are the swan boats Hub? Hmm? Where?”

I decide it’s time to talk. “Well ma’am, if you’ll look right here…”

“I’m looking right there, now where the fuck are we supposed to go? I’m all sweaty, and tired, and now you’re just going around in circles. HUB! Look at the map, listen to the man for fuck’s sake, just try to find out where we’re going! You’re going to be the death of me Hub, I swear to god. Look, the lady put stickers down on where we’re supposed to go…”

This, folks, went on for a full 5-8 minutes with me trying to get her attention long enough to actually help her and her trying her damnedest to stay as flustered and %$#&ing ragey as possible. Flipping a bitch never took on such an applicable meaning as it did right there.

Good thing for her I’m still in the business of being kept employed and out of jail.

Once I finally told her what to do, and she listened, I thought it was done. Nope.

“Okay, fine. Now that’s outta the way: HUB, you moron, where is the family now? Call them you idiot! For fuck’s sake, do I have to do everything? God!”

I am proud to say that after another 4 minutes trying to get into contact with the family, and another 14 minutes more of waiting with her incessant abuse (What the fuck were you doing Hub? Why did it take you so long to get here? You’re so stupid, honest to God. I’m all sweaty and this is so stressful, I just want everything to go right. I mean, what the fuck were you doing?!), she finally left without physically harming anyone. And neither did I!

Once she and Hub started leaving, I politely said I was glad I could help, and then went inside where my supervisor was waiting. She asked what happened, and I explained the whole episode. It was then that I realized something really funny:

If any of you have seen South Park: Bigger, Better and Uncut, then you can remember Kyle’s mom. This woman was the living incarnation of Kyle’s mom, and with that distinction comes a full ^%$&ing song about her being the biggest bitch in the whole wide world.

Great Big Angry Bitch, this song’s for you.

PHiL

Edited for fear of being interpreted as an anti-semite rant.

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