A Row in the Mess

Reservations is holding me back to write this story because I am afraid that people's impression on me might change. But I find the incident noteworthy so I am compelled to write this in my journal. Eventually this will be an effective tool in aiding me recall this segment of my life.

Two days ago a row happened between me and one of the food servers in our mess. The cause was so petty that it turned to fracas. It started this way, it was breakfast time, a few minutes past 5 AM, I surveyed the trays in array for healthful treat. I snobbed the oatmeal and its kin, the old time favorites, GMC's in boxes. Tired of looking around I settled on my usual breakfast--a bread roll thinly spread with butter, coffee and fried eggs. I prefer fried eggs over omelet because the whites are easy to separate from the yolk. Poached eggs are boring; it's gone in one gorge, breakfast consummated in 2 seconds, ha-ha. I come from a family of hypertensives so I have to be easy with the cholesterol-rich yellow of the egg. The genetic gift that I inherited manifested signs on me when I was 36 years of age. Since then I am careful with what I eat. But sometimes I stray heeding the call of my taste buds for some earthly delights, and so my story continues...

At the end of the counter, where the cooked eggs are to be collected, I saw bacons sizzling on the griddle. In hesitation I thought of having some. And then on the plate full of still raw bacons I saw some lean slices partly hidden under the heap of fatty ones; I decided to have some. Politely and struggling with my French I asked the server, a local guy, if I can have some of those lean slices. Straight away he frowned, shook his hairless head in negation and said in their local dialect that all the slices are the same, loaded with fat. Despite my explanation on how bad it is for the health he proceeded in cooking the fatty ones, as if I have no right to choose and we are at their mercy. My blood boiled with anger. How could an ugly and illiterate individual challenge my rights for what is good for me. I warned him that I am not going to eat what he cooked and I am going to report him to the management. This made him upset and the row started. The argument crescendoed into a shouting match of invectives. Not understanding with each other because my French is as bad as his'. I lost my composure and rational judgment that time. The kitchen staffs rushed out to quell the fight. The diners seated were looking at us in awe. It was really a scene. I only calmed down when I saw 2 guys waiting to be served at the counter watching us. I then instructed that ugly server to stop blabbering and go back to his work and serve the new comers.

Still livid and residues of the fight still milling in my mind, I forced myself to eat my breakfast. My coffee was too sweet for I was not counting anymore the number of teaspoons I put on it. I don't even remember how the bacon tasted. I was done in less than 3 minutes. What a way to start a day.

At work I became irritable. A mere raise of voice by other people agitates me as if courting for trouble. At the same time my emotions was ambivalent. I hated becoming belligerent. It's not my nature." What is wrong with me?", " Why am I acting like this?" These were the questions I asked myself.

Is this what they call mid-life crisis? Will I overcome this? If not, what will I be when I'm 70 or 80? A monster?

When I was young with emotions still fragile this incident is unimaginable to happen. I was never agressive in my life until lately. I had a commendable threshold of patience to be proud of. As I matured, my emotions had evolved into a stable and more defined one, and I became expressive with my feelings, some times no holds bar. But there is a big BUT about this. If I think I can dominate the person or situation then the agressive side of me comes out. But when I'm challenged with persons superior than me and those who I respect I tend to become meek like a helpless child. A case of a Jekyll and Hyde syndrome or in short, double standard . I don't know what to do about this.

Yesterday and this morning's breakfast the same local server was serving the food. I was watching him carefully with an eagle's eye for fear that he might do something at his vantage to make even with me. Who knows he might flavor my food with his spittle. I have done this before to someone I hated and I'm afraid it might come back to me.

With this story I don't know how people will react and judge me.