The Trouble With Being Nice
I try to be nice to store employees. I mean, they put up with a lot, and don’t usually get much credit for it. This carries over to my daily interactions with Sodexho employees, who tend to take about as much crap as they dish out. This means that every time I ask for some Curried Feta Seafood Slomp, I’ll begin by saying something like “How’s your day going?” It’s common courtesy, right? It’s pretty normal, isn’t it? I thought so too. I guess we’re polite to store employees because we all naively assume that our relationship will stay on an employee/customer level, and they won’t develop stalker-like obsessions with us and end up trying to murder us on deserted back-roads. I guess we all assume that most employees are not “Trevor MC”.
Trevor MC used to work for at TWU’s cafeteria, run by Sodexho – he was the grill guy. He had a face like a spatula and a personality to match. His voice was like Barry White without the sex appeal, and when he laughed, it was like a Beavis and Butthead episode was playing from speakers in his throat. He’d take your order like you just interrupted a serious game of Mario Kart: “What do you want?”
Trevor MC (pronounced hip-hop style) was called that because his last name was McWaytoolongforhisnametag. My then-girlfriend (now-wife) Kendra and I became regular customers of Trevor MC; even if we weren’t ordering burgers, we’d at least take the time to chat with him. Why not? He always looked so serious, like maybe he needed some cheering up. But even though we spoke fairly regularly, the most personal we’d ever get was Trevor talking about his car. So I guess that’s what made it a little weird when Trevor invited himself to breakfast with Kendra one morning. “It’s my birthday this weekend,” he told her. “I was wondering if you and Kevan wanted to go to a movie or something.”
I was a bit surprised when Kendra told me we were going on a date with Trevor MC. It didn’t seem real until he pulled up in his pimped-out maroon-coloured ’92 Ford Tempo later that week. It was missing a muffler but equipped with a subwoofer, and what the car lacked in awesomeness it made up for with its rank stench and sheer volume. We couldn’t hear each other talk, so we just sat in silence, making our way to the cheap theatres for Trevor MC’s 19th birthday.
It took Kendra and I both a little while to notice that we weren’t actually on our way to the theatre at all. Trevor was taking us down some dark, out-of-the-way residential street. “Trevor,” I said. “Uh…where are we going?” No response. There were no streetlights on this street, and it was lined with menacing-looking trees which loomed over the road like giant demons. We drove on, and the street became darker, more deserted, and little creepier. Finally Trevor spoke. “I think we’re lost,” he said. “I’m just gonna turn around in one of these driveways.” He took a right, and began driving up a dirt road, this one even darker. We passed one driveway. He didn’t turn in. We passed another. He still didn’t stop. We passed one more, and he began to slow down…
When we were talking about this afterwards, Kendra and I discovered that at this point, both of us were fairly certain that Trevor MC was about to murder us. Possibly with an axe. Maybe a chainsaw. Whatever the weapon, it seemed inevitable that we were the next menu item up on Trevor’s grill. So who knows what changed. Maybe God heard our frantic prayers, or maybe Trevor lost his nerve. But instead of stepping out of the car and removing a bow-staff from his trunk, he turned the car around, and we drove back to the theatre.
I kinda wish he’d at least dragged us out of the car and left us tied to a tree or something, because then we wouldn’t have had to sit through “Sum of All Fears”, which is a movie about Russians and presidents and how Tom Clancy is a boring and formulaic storyteller who sucks. Trevor had already seen the movie 6 times. Kendra and I almost died watching it once.
I try to be nice to store employees. But you know…sometimes it’s just not worth it.
by Kevan Gilbert
Yep, this archaic archive of articles and projects is a little outdated. BUT! At one point, these were cutting edge. Or least, relatively useful/funny. They were made, painstakingly, by Kevan Gilbert: you know, from Vancouver, works for a web agency, sometimes makes up songs, is a totally dorky dad and husband. More boring details on the 
Me again. If you don’t know who me is, read my response to your essay about christian music.
I just wanted to concur with your opinion about The Sum of All Fears. It sucked. Bad.