I Worked With A Guy From The Russian Mob at McDonalds?

By Kyle S. Reyes, owner of Law Enforcement Today and CEO of The Silent Partner Marketing.

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What if I told you I think I worked with a dude from the Russian mob at my first job… and it taught me a valuable lesson about “protectors”?

Crazy?? Yeah, probably.? But what isn’t crazy these days?

So here’s the deal.

I was 16 years old and making minimum wage (and not complaining about it – just sayin’). ?And there was a guy who worked there slinging burgers – probably in his mid-50’ – with a heavy Russian accent.

All of the kids who worked there would make fun of him for being an older guy who still worked at McDonalds.?

I never joined in, but I never stopped them – because if they were making fun of HIM, then they weren’t making fun of ME.? I was the kid with acne pushing 300 pounds, pounding double cheeseburgers on my break like they were going out of style.

One day, my fellow teens were being particularly brutal to him, telling him he wasn’t “enough of a man” to provide for his family.?

Calmly, in his thick accent, he pointed out that this was how he chose to provide for his wife and kids.? He said it was a welcome improvement over his old job in Russia.

Finally – one of the teens said to him mockingly:

“Oh yeah?? What was your old job in the motherland?? Cleaning toilets?”

The man got quiet for a minute.

?“Disposing of bodies,” he said.? “I was in the Russian mafia.”

?Everyone got quiet.? People weren’t sure if he was being serious… or trying to shut them up.?

?Whatever the truth was… it worked.? The attacks on him stopped.

A week later, he and I were closing up the restaurant.? It was a little after midnight.? Suddenly – without warning – the power went out.

“GET DOWN ON THE GROUND!” he screamed.

I dropped.

I heard thudding and banging.? I laid on the ground shaking, not having any idea what was going on.

About 60 seconds later, the power came back on.? And there he was – standing facing the entrance with his back to me.? He turned around and I realized he was holding a butcher knife in each hand.

Pretty sure I peed my pants a little.

“It’s ok,” he said.? “It was just a little power outage.”

Yeah.? Just a little power outage.

“Um – why are you holding those knives?” I asked.

“In Russia, when there was going to be an attack, they’d start by cutting the power,” he told me.? “I figured that’s what was happening and I was going to protect you.? These are my big knives.”

After that, I never again questioned if he had been in the mafia.? I had an entirely new respect for him.

I don’t know who that man was in his past life.? I don’t know what horrible things he may or may not have had to do.? I don’t know the situation under which he moved.? I don’t know the sins from his past.?

All I knew was that his past experiences shaped him into who he was.? A simple man.? But a protector who would fight to protect people who were basically strangers.

Isn’t that what the men and women who hold the thin blue line are?? Silent protectors?? Warriors who are always vigilant… always aware… always ready to serve?

It’s not lost on me how many trolls are going to try and use this story to make an argument that cops are part of their own type of “mob”.? I’m used to hearing that.? These are the same sniveling little anti-police babies who are the first ones to call the police the second they hear someone use the wrong “pronouns”.

But for the rest of us… we know.? We know your head is always on a swivel.? That you are the beacon of light in a seemingly dark world.? And that when the SHTF and the lights turn on… you’ll be standing there in front of us… holding those butcher knives… ready for whatever fight comes our way.

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