Friday, November 21, 2008

Schlotsky's and Starbucks

I'd never been to Schlotsky's Deli before. Heard of it, never been. This morning it was the only thing near my hotel resembling food. As I stood staring, trying to understand the jumbled, colorful, huge menu on the wall (which never shows you what the food actually looks like), this obese, pock-marked white woman with raggy hair and squinty eyes spoke to someone on the phone about her financial status. She worked there. She has been driving her car with the gas light on for 2 days among other things. She was sitting in a booth right by the register. There was only one other customer in the place besides me. She hung up her cell, came around the back of the counter and, while I was standing there about to order, told her co-worker that her boyfriend/husband/male friend she has a financial relationship with, that he wanted her to take what remained of that day's paycheck and buy groceries even though she gave him cash for a portion of her car payment already, among other things.

Made me sad.

I walk a block to a Starbucks, and this robot-girl pummels the customer in front of me with fakeness so weird it merited a quizzical Mark Baratelli look of wonderment. I imagine it looks cute, like a puppy turning it's head to the side when he hears an unusual noise. But I've been told it looks like complete bafflement, and not in a charming way.

The customer in front of me leaves and then it's just me and her left to handle her robot-ness. I make my order and she offers me Thanksgiving blend, asks if I want a shot of Pumpkin Spice (I didn't ask if it was a free offer. I just assumed it was not free and said no.), asks for my name so she can write it on the cup even though I am the only customer in the store, corrects my "Grande Misto" order as "Grande Coffee Misto", asks me if I want a receipt, tells me the machine is printing the receipt, and tells me my order will be ready soon.

Mad me mad.

I sat down with my Grande Coffee Misto and wrote this entry. I am grateful I have a job that pays my bills. I am grateful I don't have to deal with douchey customers like me.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

Douchey is a sexist comment. You were raised complaining. It is your nature. You love it because you are very talented at complaining. Just think of it as a shot of caffeine you must have BEFORE you give/get your order. Happy Thanksgiving!

Mark Baratelli said...

That's funny! Thanks!

Summer said...

What an odd affirmation that just happened for you here. I love it.
Embrace the douchey-ness and all will be well.