There are a few things in life (well, more than a few) that are difficult to understand. The mass appeal for mayonnaise comes to mind? I don’t get it. It’s jiggly, and gelatinous, and basically all fat; and why does everyone put it on everything?
Whip cream? Whip cream. I don’t understand that either. It’s literally air. Cream air, that is in the way of what you actually want: the food/dessert that you actually ordered.
What else? Oh, cream cheese. Like…whaaaaaat people? Put jelly on your bagel and vanilla icing on your cakes and there–I’ve solved all your future breakfast orders and the wedding cake part of your marriage.
I’m realizing that most of the things I don’t understand are food related catastrophes, but that doesn’t detract from my original point that there’re other confusing things too. Chief of which are people.
See, you think you might understand people to a certain degree by, you know, being one, but it isn’t until you work with “the public” that you eventually realize you’re wrong.
One of the more common warnings the people at the coffee shop I work at give to the new trainees, is that people are difficult and will be as difficult as possible, simply because they can. And when you’re training you say, “Oh haha I know, I’ve worked with them, I get it, I’ll be fine,” but the reality is, when you’re working with people, that their being difficult is real, and is a problem that you don’t completely understand until you’re dunked straight in.
There’s something that continues to break in some people as we get further and further into the age of convenience we’re currently in. We’ve all heard it before, but we’re less patient today, we need things “now,” we can’t wait–and if we’re made to, we fly off in some way, or brood ragefully in silence. It’s a problem, whether it be when you’re driving in front of or beside that person, when you’re in line with them in a store, or when, God forbid, Subway doesn’t lay their vegetables right and you’re in the path of their hellstorm.
So when places like Starbucks exist that pump out coffee fast and frenzied with names like “Triple Half-Caff, Venti, Half Sweet, Non-Fat, No Foam, Caramel Macchiato,” the coffee shops on the outskirts, the ones lovingly referred to as, “Not Starbucks,” take the brunt of the rage when things aren’t just right.
This isn’t anything against Starbucks to be honest; they have a model that works. It’s more to do with the culture of people who have been born up out of that model. Like I said, some people will be as difficult as possible if they are given the opportunity to do so, and coming into a coffee shop seems to bring that out of people a little more.
I don’t know. Don’t get me wrong, I really love people. I love getting to interact, one-on-one, with teachers on their way home from work, parents with their kids coming to pick up a milkshake, college students coming to study for tests–it’s great, but there are those times when you feel like you’re staring down the barrel of a cocked and loaded gun that’s ready to fire straight toward you if everything isn’t perfect–and it’s those times that you don’t love it so much; you’d really just rather leave.
I guess the fortunate thing about the world is that for every irrational person spouting off about the bent edge of their Cheerio’s box to the employee at the register in line at Target, there are a thousand behind them, rolling their eyes, ready to be a little extra pleasant when they get up to the front.