Misery Loves Company

I turned in my last two papers for the semester yesterday and I feel like both of them were crap. One had too many restrictions and I didn’t feel like I was able to write what I wanted, the other had way too many requirements and it was difficult to meet all of them in 8-10 pages.

Now I feel like it’s time to focus on actually doing some holiday shopping and/or sewing. But I just don’t feel like it. Earlier this year I had grandiose ideas for making my own Christmas cards. I haven’t even started on them. I am not in the holiday spirit at all. Then again, neither does anyone else seem to be. Customers have been more and more demanding and rude at work, and tips have gotten so slim that I can’t put gas in my car without saving them up for a couple of days first.

When I was closing the store Tuesday night a man I’ve never seen before came in to get a drink. As I was making it, I noticed him eyeballing my tattoos. He asked me about a couple of them and I gave him my usual speech: this one means blah-blah-blah and this one is yadda-yadda. He responded with the typical you-never-know-what-they-really-say, you-could-have-a-tattoo-that-says-rice-paddy-in-Chinese then told me I was in trouble if I “ever want a real J-O-B.” He even spelled it out like that. Like if the job I have now heard him, its feelings might be hurt, so he needed to spell it so my job couldn’t figure out what he was saying.

I was thinking about renaming and giving a theme to this blog. Something like “The Dumb Shit People Say to Me at Work.” Okay, I haven’t quite perfected that, but you get the idea. With all of the nutjobs who come in on a daily basis it seems I could make at least one post every day that I work that revolves around one conversation I had.

One regular complains about something every time she comes in. And she comes in every single day. She complained that our skim milk tasted bland (um, it’s skim milk?), then switched to soy before saying that the soy milk gave her terrible gas. I’m not kidding. I never know what I’m supposed do with information like this, so I told her to stop drinking soy milk. Problem solved!
Another guy told me he tests his pee on pH strips and likes to know what sort of alkaline/acid content his urine has based on what regional coffee we have brewing each day. He sits at a table for two hours every day, making notes on the coffee he’s drinking. I find this especially amusing because he ruins the flavor by loading it up with sugar and cream. If you want to “taste” the flavor of the coffee, don’t put in eight packets of sugar and a cup of half and half. It would be like going to a wine tasting and pouring Sprite into each glass before you drank it.

I’ve had two people in the last week tell me that they’re never coming back and they’re going to start getting coffee at Starbucks. Like I give a shit. The best part is that one of them is pissed because a customer told her she shouldn’t smoke right in front of our door and the smoke was going right in her infant’s face. This regular knows she’s not supposed to smoke on our patio but does it anyway. The other was mad because our other store was closed when she wanted it to be open. Starbucks will let you smoke inside? Starbucks will open at four in the morning? Good luck with that.

It’s difficult to remain positive and polite when you’re surrounded by such petty, miserable people who would like nothing more than to make you feel shitty in an effort to feel important.


2 thoughts on “Misery Loves Company

  1. HA! When that guy said that about the J-O-B, I would have almost relished saying, “Nah, in this day and age real employers have stopped caring about that crap.”

    We can thank Silicon Valley, as well as just growing up as a society, for that.

  2. Man, bitter much? Nah, just kidding. Living in in that neighborhood for a year and a half and going to that store, I know how fucking incredible those people are. Even now, it surprises me that they even exist.

    What the fuck is going on there? All I hear is craziness.

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