See, I work pretty darn hard for my money. I've paid my dues for 20 years with school, odd hours, crappy jobs, etc. I wanted my weekends to enjoy and be happy as li'l ol me.
So I go to get a cup of coffee at the most lucrative shop in the US BECAUSE they are friendly, in most cases, right? For some reason, we have succummed to the idea that the more we pay, the better the customer service should be... what?!? What happenned to just plain customer service?
OK, so it's Saturday and the poor little one is working a bit early after a night out on the town. She doesn't get paid as much as I do... but she's 20 years younger than ME! I'm torn... am I to be the big sister..ahem, Mom figure; sympathetic to her throbbing, hung-over dreadfullness as she takes my order? Should I have been so much less excited about my beautiful Saturday filled with nothingness, as to lower the tone of my average voice? She pauses as if I had irritated her... Oh... gosh... will she charge me for extra pump of white mocha, now? Will she write the wrong set of instructions on my tripple-venti, Soy, Sugar-free w/ 1 pump white mocha replacement, no whip, no foam, straw and sleeve morning yummy? I begin to feel a little anxious... then a little irritated that she's starting to piss off my Saturday, so early. No, no, no.... I'm better than that, more mature, more... damn her. This is a $5.25 cup of coffee and I still haven't savored it yet!
Augh!
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