Cuchulainn was fired from his dishwashing job after demanding his first hour’s wage in real time.
It was the worst hour of his life. He was greeted with indifference when he arrived at the restaurant and told stories of his boyhood feats. He understood they were busy working and let that slide, looking forward to sharing more with his new comrades, perhaps around a campfire on a company trip. Yes.
But he soon lost interest in friendships with these mad tyrants. He was bombarded with pots and pans and plastics and other haphazardly piled filthy kitchen tools. Before he could even dream of clearing the mess, service began and now he was responsible for plates and cutlery on top of his initial challenge.
Everyone gave him work to do and not a soul among them did it with love. He was quickly convinced these people were sent from hell to teach him some grim lesson. Truly, their beady lifeless eyes had no purpose behind them but to bring suffering to the working man! He was asked if he wanted a refreshing beverage. A beverage?! He had no time for even a toilet break! How could he double down with more to drink? They dare disguise these cruel conditions as hospitality?! Die!
When he insisted on cash up front, the police had already been called as Cuchulainn strangled a man who tried to explain to him the meaning of elbow grease.