By Maude Perkins
Nothing like a long streak of sub-zero temperatures to enliven my bitterness. Every single time that front door opens at work, and the negative degree wind comes a-gusting up to the register on the down parkas and fur coats of suburbia’s finest, I find myself loathing customers even more.
Greetings From Earth
I would like to clarify that when another human being says “Hello” to you, a customary response would be something along the lines of – assuming we are being strictly hypothetical in English – I don’t know . . . “Hello” might work. An improper response, on the other hand, could sound like “Grande coffee.” Or even, “Give me one of those muffins.” I’m not prying into your personal space, I am not asking how your boring family is doing, I am just saying hello. No matter who you are or what stocks you own, you are not above greeting another human.
Mother-Beeping Idiots
When I arrived at work yesterday, the store alarm was emitting a loud and steady beep, implying the disruption of a sensor. The beeping was impossible to stop and so it continued all day long, until 7 in the evening when the repair guy finally showed up. I heard that high-pitched tone for the first eight hours of my day. I went home from work, laid down for a nap, and still heard the beeping in my head.
It was around my sixth hour of listening to the beep when two yuppie moms sat down in the comfy chairs right next to the alarm’s wall unit, from where the noise originated. After about 15 minutes of chit-chatting, one of the women approached us at the bar. Already anticipating her stupid question, I gave her my best you are not about to say something about the beep look.
She began, “Do you guys know . . . ,” but stopped when she caught my glare. She hesitated before continuing, “Well, I’m sure you know there’s something beeping over there, but you can’t stop it at all? It’s really annoying.”
I tried desperately not to slap a bitch, and instead responded very calmly, “If I could turn it off, I would have at 4:30 this morning, which is what time we started listening to it.”
Sure, I wasn’t necessarily the nicest I could have been, but at least I didn’t tell her to go have her riveting Grey’s Anatomy conversation somewhere else. At least I didn’t tell her I had pocket lint that was smarter than her. At least I didn’t smack a bitch.
Pressing My Buttons
And finally, I have an update on a previously-discussed favorite customer of mine. Decaf espresso French press guy, apparently not thinking it’s so “cool” anymore to wait the five minutes for his coffee to personally steep, now telephones his order in advance. I am yet to receive one of these calls myself. But I’ll let you know when I tell him to stick it up his ass.
*
Maude Perkins is The Beachwood Reporter‘s pseudononymous service industry affairs editor currently serving time as a store supervisor for a large, publicly-held corporate coffee chain. Catch up with the rest of her heartwarming tales from the front here.
Posted on February 11, 2007