A Big Fluffy PillowFebruary 13, 2008 at 1:15 AM | Posted in Riding In Cars With Pizza | 1 Comment
I believe that is it, in a nutshell.
Here in the Midwest, in the St Louis area, Monday afternoon we started to get sleet. This is just a week after we had ten inches of snow that melted in a day and a half. Now we get sleet. This is a special kind of snow. It doesn’t pack like snow. It doesn’t accumulate like snow. But it is white. And it’s slick as shit. Now, it’s not like the ice storms that we get that weigh down power lines. This is just a soft, fluffy, barely noticeable precipitation.
That brings traffic to a grinding halt. People finally get home, they order food. Last night, I worked at Scooters.
I work on the inside, but I know how the roads are; it took me over an hour to get to work and I consider myself lucky.
Mrs. Stuffleton calls (you know, I don’t know her name. I could look it up if I gave a wet flyin shit. This is who she is to me) and Karl is taking the order. He runs into a problem–new computers, we’re still adjusting–and puts her on hold. I try to figure it out, and it’s not easy. She wants a burger, and she wants 6 extra slices of fucking onion. These are big slices, so she’s obviously a bitch. (No, really, I can tell. I know things about people.)
I figure out the computer thing, but she hung up. She calls back. Karl is working on it again, but she wants to speak to the manager.
–That would be me.
Mrs. Stuffleton feels that Karl should be nicer to her. After all, she is a "Valued Customer." A regular. Not only that, but she took issue with the delivery time: it will be over an hour because of the road conditions. "Oh. Well, I thought perhaps you could do something about that, since I am a regular customer." She orders all the time. She’s special. So very special. And we should treat her special and kiss her ass. She then senses that I am being brusque with her as well. How very astute. "I mean, I am the customer. I provide your business. Am I annoying you?"
[AND I GUESS THIS IS THE PART ABOUT IT THAT BOTHERS ME. I HAVE ANOTHER REGULAR WHO IS KIND OF A FRIEND/ACQUAINTANCE, BUT HE HAS A SIMILAR ATTITUDE: I AM A REGULAR CUSTOMER, TREAT ME SPECIAL. THE DIFFERENCE IS, IF I KNOW THEY ARE A REGULAR, AND THEY DON’T ASK FOR SPECIAL TREATMENT, THEY WILL GET IT. BUT TO DEMAND IT….THAT’S NOT HEALTHY. I DON’T WANT TO BE THEIR ENABLER IN THIS ULTIMATELY UNHEALTHY DYSFUNCTIONAL RELATIONSHIP. MAYBE IT’S BECAUSE MY EX WIFE IS NUTTIER THAN MY BALLSAC AND MY PREVIOUS GIRLFRIEND BEFORE THAT WAS AN ALCOHOLIC THAT MADE MY EX LOOK SANE. IT’S JUST OVERTLY NEEDY. ‘TELL ME YOU LOVE ME! TELL ME I’M SPECIAL!’–WELL, IF IT’LL GET ME LAID….
I REALIZE THAT I AM A PASSIVE AGGRESSIVE ASSHOLE. IF YOU TELL ME TO TREAT YOU SPECIAL, I WOULDN’T PISS ON YOU IF YOU WERE ON FIRE. BUT IF YOU ARE NICE AND FRIENDLY AND DON’T PRESUME TO OWN ME, I’LL DO ANYTHING FOR YOU.
AND ANOTHER THING…PERHAPS YOU READ THIS AND FEEL THAT I DON’T BELONG IN FOOD SERVICE. YOU WOULD BE CORRECT. NONETHELESS, HERE I AM.]
Honesty is usually mistaken for rudeness; that’s why I use it. "Ma’am, I am also cooking. I have food on the grill. I’m just trying to get through this is as quickly as possible."
"Oh." It sounds like her feelings were hurt to find out that she is not THE LAST PERSON ON THE FUCKING PLANET. Another person suffering from Charleton Heston Syndrome: They think they are The Omega Man. I get her order, and get off the phone. I have to run to the grill–shit, I burned the chicken. She calls back. I let it ring about 8 times while I deal with more important things. She says, "I was going to give you my credit card number." Great, because I was going to go to Sears.
"Oh, okay. Can you hold please?" I let her hold again while I save the rest of the food on the grill. I already established that I’m cooking; she had better be understanding. I get her number and run it. I thought I was through with her….but she called when the order was an hour old, and Sean had just left. She said her name, like I should know her by name. I ask for her address, which is all that matters to me. . .that, and whether or not my balls will fit in her mouth.
But I was cordial.
I finally get done with her and another lady calls. "I just wanted to check on my order to see if it’s on it’s way. Are you guys busy tonight?"
I never cease to be amazed. I did say this, I did: "Have you looked outside?"
She said, "That’s what I thought. I wondered if the weather had anything to do with it."
She sounds like the kind of person who doesn’t quite get the correlation between flipping a switch and the light coming on. In other words, the typical customer.