Vague Disclaimer's No one's Friend

I had a lengthy conversation Wednesday with a co-worker about how working in food service has turned us into very bitter people who hate and despise the human race.

Let me say that the majority of my regular customers are simply lovely, and nothing broke my heart more than having to tell them that the coffeehouse is closing down for good. I've developed odd friendships with some of them to the point that I know more about their lives than I feel I ever should. And, my day grows brighter when they walk in the door, and I already know their order by heart. However, there is that rare breed of a regular customer that I HATE.

For an example, I have this regular customer who comes in every day to get a grilled cheese and a smoothie, two of the things I am most unhappy to make. But, he was always polite, so I dealt. Then, he got too comfortable in his regularity. He now calls every day at the same time, and merely says "Hey, it's me (name)." As if I'm supposed to know only one (uber-common name) in my entire existence. Not only am I supposed to recognize his voice and name, I'm supposed to know what he wants to order and have it ready for him the second he walks in the door. I hate this. I am a food server, I understand. But, I am not your servant at your beck and call and I am most certainly not going to put your order on the top priority of my endless list of things to do at work. THEN, this kid has the nerve to give me an attitude if his order isn't ready when he shows up. Not to mention that I have never received a tip from him. It drives me crazy.

I've worked with the public enough to understand that the majority of people suck. But, how dare someone return on a daily basis and treat me that way.

As my coworker Sarah so elegantly put it, "I fucking handle your food, you fool."

Yes, I am a good person and would never damage someone's food like that. But, still, people continuously push the limits and honestly, how idiotic can you be. It's true. I deal with your food, and there are a myriad of ways I could mess with it. Are you really that keen to establish yourself as the smoothie asshole and continue to return to my food preparation every day? Why on earth would anyone push it? But, they do.

I need another job. The Blue Dog is forcing me over the edge.