Taking what isn't yours

Working in the service industry is both hilarious and maddening. First of all, like that quote says, real life is often time more funny than anything you could make up. Like the lengths to which someone will go to avoid paying 60 cents for soy milk.

I have a customer who orders a tall americano, one shot on the side, half full with cold soy. Basically, she wants a tall soy latte. But by ordering it this way, and then telling the barista to just fill up the cup with the soy, she avoids the 60 cents charge for more than 4oz of soy all together. She does this every day. And last week, when I rang her up for what she really wants (tall americano, with the 60cent soy charge) she flipped her lid and refused to pay. She might have walked out. Want to know the kicker? If she does the whole registered Starbucks card, she eventually would get that soy for free anyway.

Why does this even matter? Because it's annoying and it happens a lot. And when I'm making drinks, in a busy rush, in a flow, and you tell me you didn't order the drink you wanted, you just ordered it that way because it's cheaper, it gets to me. I have to interrupt what I'm doing, make everyone else wait longer, re-make your stupid cheap-ass' drink.


And another thing. What's with people accepting food or drinks that they didn't order? I see this on a daily and nightly basis. Someone ordered an iced tea but takes the random hot drink sitting on the counter because they got impatient, distracted, annoyed, stupid, forgetful, you choose. Really? You wanted this huge hot pink iced drink, but took this tiny hot espresso? Or at my restaurant, occasionally something is brought to the wrong table. Do people really forget that they ordered ravioli, but decide the kitchen just wanted them to have chicken instead? Then they eat half of it before saying something like "I don't think I ordered the chicken..." and refuse to pay for what they chose to eat? Really? REALLY?!


And that ends our installment of "Tales from the other side of the counter."

Writing is a challenge...

I've always been one of those people who start journals (I buy lovely leather bound ones, am given funky fun ones, convert old notebooks) and then get all caught up in trying to say what I mean and just stop because of all the pressure to be honest. And clear. And concise.

See, I've had some wonderful Language teachers and profs in my life. I value words. Individually and sequentially. I believe this world would be so much easier if we could communicate better, and for most people that means using words. Using them differently, thinking before we speak, saying what we mean. I believe there is a lot of power in words.

At the same time, I'm a perpetual editor. I composed a "Letter to the editor" over the course of a week, went through 4 drafts before I sent it in (it was printed by the way! "Courageous Crusader" is a misleading headline but I've mostly let that go). I was disappointed by the edited version that was printed. I think the skipped some of my best lines and missed the reason I was writing. The piece was misleading and religiously slanted. Writers are free to include their religion in their work, but don't play it off as "journalism" when it's just a personal editorial about a Catholic scientist who opposes stem cell research.

Right. Tangent. Forgot where I was going with that. Words. Are. Good.