The gentleman wanted to demonstrate his superior position, and ordered. I refused again, finished it off with telling them both all I thought about their work and tendered violently my resignation.
Coming from the office I saw Sam aiming a "greeting" at an old man who sat in a corner of the waiting room. I watched him doing it. No sooner was he through than I got hold of him, boxed his ears soundly and before any one had time to interfere I had turned up his head and spat upon him full in the face. It was a disgusting act, but a sweet revenge. I did it, then called out, "Feel how it tastes—you do it to every one."
Needless to say, the whole office was up in a second. There was a terrible uproar. I won the enmity of the whole bunch. I had hit Sam—the pet, the future Manager; Sam, the greatest of them all; debased him in front of the applicants. The Assistant Manager came out to investigate what the noise was about. And no one—no one, not even the old man who was the direct cause of it, whose face was still wet from Sam's spittle, no one wanted to tell on Sam.
"Look, old man, your face is yet full of spittle."
"You are mistaken, sir," he answered, "to beat a boy. Shame, shame."
Soon all the applicants looked angrily at me and many said: "Shame, shame." Not one man or woman would admit that they had seen him do it at other times. I almost cried with rage.
The assistant manager was very much upset and wondered that I should do such a thing. "It puts you in a dangerous position," he told me.
I laughed. "My work is done. I have resigned," I answered as I went away. It's the best thing that could have happened.
I had a fine day. But why did not that old man tell the truth. If he were younger— But it's all over now. I am happy. I had a fine day.