Mine is fairly run-of-the-mill, but it was when I was about 22 or so, I was a short order cook in a diner. I had worked a total of three shifts there, and the owner was a cranky old prick who was always hovering over me, and being a real jerk. As I was still learning all the menu items, and wasn't given the opportunity to train for a week with someone else, there were a few times when I didn't quite get the plate presentation the way he wanted. He'd make a big fuss about it, and my blood was getting hotter by the hour. He snapped at me one more time so I looked at him and said something like "Go f*ck yourself, you **** stupid old word removed, I'm done with this sh*t", took off my apron, rolled it up, threw it on the floor, and walked out of there, leaving him with no cook on the busiest shift of the week. It felt great.