The Girl at Starbucks That Hates You:
I see you in line: you don't have your smiley face on. You're pissed that the line is so long, and you need to get to work...
The man three places ahead of you: maybe he's never been in a Starbucks before, I don't know. He has waited in line to get to the counter to begin to look at all the options of beverages. He wants an Espresso, or a Latte, can I tell him the difference? And he smells bad: I can't help that, people....
I tell him the difference of the beverages, as everyone behind him inwardly groans and outwardly express their displeasure in body language. You are looking at your watch: I get it: you're running late. And somehow I am the reason for you running late. You want me to say "Just order a fucking drink" to him, and you know I cannot say that but you are disgruntled that I don't say it anyway...
The next customer has one of THOSE orders: half of this, non-fat that, soy, no whip, that certain temperature -- for a Small drink. We're not splitting atoms, people: my people will wing it and YOU WILL NOT TELL THE DIFFERENCE...
Unless we actually do get it right, where you will then complain THAT IS NOT WHAT I ORDERED...
We will make that drink again, because that is what pleases them: do it again because I have discerning taste...
So you finally get to the counter and now you put your Smiley Face on: you are so Happy to be a customer and so Happy to see me and so wanting to be seen as Happy. And when your drink isn't ready for two minutes you mumble under your breath, look at your watch, and heave a Sigh...
You want a coffee in less than two minutes? Go to fucking Seven-Eleven...
My male Boss gets all of this, but then wants to rub my shoulders.
My female Boss taps her watch and shoots me a distasteful look.
I fucking hate you all...
I am Laslo.
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