Coffee, Life, Open Letters, Work

Have A Nice Day, Jerkface.

Oh, I get it. You’re important. You’re going places. You don’t have time for things like manners or small talk. You’re in a rush and of course that justifies acting like a complete knob 90% of the time. Allow me to just point out how much of a jerk everyone knows you are.

You pulled up to the speaker in your minivan. I attempted to greet you and you cut me off with a curt “JUST A MINUTE”, and then you continued your phone conversation. Obviously you were unaware that every employee with a headset could overhear every word you barked into your iPhone. (Douchebags on the go wouldn’t have anything less than an iPhone, naturally.) Once you had assured your friend you were just getting a coffee, you yelled into the speaker “VENTI SIX PUMP SKINNY VANILLA LATTE” and drove away without letting me confirm your order. As you pulled away, I could hear you take up your Very Important Conversation once again.

This is called being rude. Need a definition? No problem, coming right up. (The ones pertaining to you are in boldface.)

rude  (ruːd)

— adj
1.     insulting or uncivil; discourteous; impolite: he was rude about her hairstyle
2.     lacking refinement; coarse or uncouth
3.     vulgar or obscene: a rude joke
4.     unexpected and unpleasant: a rude awakening to the facts of economic life
5.     roughly or crudely made: we made a rude shelter on the island
6.     rough or harsh in sound, appearance, or behaviour
7.     humble or lowly
8.     ( prenominal ) robust or sturdy: in rude health
9.     ( prenominal ) approximate or imprecise: a rude estimate

[C14: via Old French from Latin rudis  coarse, unformed]
(Definition via Dictionary.com)

Lady, I feel it’s my duty as a customer service punching bag to let you know that I was incredibly tempted to pretend I didn’t get your order and let you sit at the drive-thru window for ten minutes until you drove away, frustrated and without your beverage. I was fully prepared to deal with your hysterical complaining as you pulled back up to the speaker and berated me for having ignored you. I fantasized about cutting you off with a curt “JUST A MINUTE” and then letting you listen to me converse with my coworkers about assinine shit while you sat there burning gas and twiddling your thumbs. Then, when I finally took your order, I would neglect to ask you if there was anything else or tell you your total. Upon arrival at the window, I would hand you your drink without a word, a smile, or any human interaction whatsoever. But I didn’t do any of those things, for one simple reason.

I’m a professional.

I’ve been doing this kind of work for nearly ten years. Ten years spent being looked down on, patronized, and treated rudely. If you bothered to speak to me, or even look me directly in the eye rather than treat me like a robotic customer service automaton, you would realize you’re dealing with a brilliant woman here. I think, I write, I speak, I feel, and if you took five seconds out of your day to smile at me, you just might make a friend. If you make me your friend, you’re ten times more likely to get a free drink here or there, maybe a little extra whipped cream or caramel drizzle on the house. An extra shot? Sure, why not? But alternatively, if you make me your enemy, I just might give you decaf espresso instead. You won’t even know until your drink fails to wake you up in the morning and you get that annoying little caffeine-withdrawal headache.

Keep this in mind the next time you come through the drive-thru on my shift.

Have a nice day.

(Image via Google.)

Speak freely.

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