Lie To Me

I have infinite sympathy for people working in entry-level service jobs. Honestly, I do. Hell, I'm in one, and before that, I was in another, and another. It's hell. But Christ on a cracker, don't be a huge asshole about it.

I deliver newspapers with my girlfriend seven days a week. Yeah. Seven. We use her car, and unfortunately, her cute little car is made of glorified plastic and the men who sold it to her are lying liarfaces who decided not to mention that not everything is properly glued down. So, sometimes shit falls off. It happens. It blows.

We were half an hour or so away from home, and a front part of the car was hanging off and dragging on the road. Unfortunately, it was about six in the morning or so, and not many people are open that early, let alone places that sell duct tape. It was just a piece of plastic, but letting it drag ... not so much a good idea. Especially going 60 miles an hour. So we were stuck over half an hour from home, waiting for the Walgreens to open up so we could get some duct tape, give old Spaceship Suzie a band aid, and go home to sleep.

So we went to Dunkin Donuts. This turned out to be a really bad decision.

Now, we love Dunkin. We are suckers for a good Coolata and nothing quite beats a wake up wrap or a warm bagel. We're easy customers, we know what we want, and we don't complain. In general, we get on really well with service people; we're all in the same boat, everyone is up way too early, and we either regard each other with understanding quiet or have a good laugh about how much our jobs suck.

Today, however, we walked into the building and were greeted with wailing. It's the only way to describe the strange noises this woman was making: wailing. Loud, obnoxious, off-key renditions of Spanish pop music, sang in that horrid way that only tone deaf people with access to iPods can truly manage. This wailing, as it turned out, was coming from one of the employees working in the back, putting things in and taking things out of the ovens and stock room. Since I don't particularly enjoy being serenaded, I briefly considered waiting in the car until I remembered we had an hour to wait and that running the AC in the car probably wasn't worth it.

So we went in anyway. The other woman working there was at the register and, unlike her friend, said not a word. Instead, she settled on glaring. Glaring at the register, at the donuts, at our coffee, and at us. I immediately thought of what everyone is told as children: your face will get stuck that way. Still, her coworker's wailing was pretty horrific, so maybe she was just annoyed, and I couldn't blame her, so I was nice and cheerful despite the death daggers she was busy boring into my forehead.

For lack of anything better to do, we stayed in the Dunkin, talking about a newspaper article we'd read while the cashier kept on glaring and her coworker kept on wailing. Eventually 7 AM rolled around and we saved ourselves, hopping over to the Walgreens for some duct tape. Armed with a nifty teal duct tape bandaid, we were relieved to finally---finally!---be on our way home.

About halfway home, I panicked. Though I had my phone and wallet in my sweater pockets, I couldn't find my purse. Obviously, I flipped! I freaked! I frantically looked up the number of the Dunkin with the Girlfriend's phone internet and called them! I figured if I had left my purse there, they would know, right? I knew exactly where it would be if I had left it. No problem, right?

So I called. On the fourth or fifth ring, Cranky Girl picked up.


Cashier: Dunkin Donuts, how can I help you?
Me: Hi! I really hate to bother you but I was JUST there and I think I might have left my purse, I'm really sorry for taking your time but if you could just tell me if you found----hello?



She hung up on me. Bitch hung up on me. I would have blamed my reception, but that tell-tale fuzz and click of a phone being put down was pretty damn distinctive.

So I called back once. Twice. Nothing. The third time, she finally picked up, sounding infinitely more annoyed.


Cashier: Hello?!
Me: Hi! I'm sorry, I JUST called, my phone must have dropped the call, but I might have left my purse there and if you could just tell me if you found---
Cashier: Yeah.
Me: Oh, good, thank god! We're on our way back---


And she hung up on me again. But, whatever, she had my purse and that was what mattered, right? Or she found it. Or something. As she hung up on me so fast, I didn't have time to describe it, so hell, maybe she didn't even have the right one. I still didn't care. We turned our asses around, went back, and I ran in to get it myself. The wailing had stopped, finally. When I walked in, I quickly went to check where I had been sitting (in case crankypants just left it on the floor), and was told by the very nice woman mopping the floor that my purse was behind the counter. She even smiled and said good morning and acted---gasp!---like a nice person! WOW!

Seriously, I shouldn't have to be impressed by that. Wtf.

For what it's worth, the place wasn't busy. There were two, maybe three cars in the drive through, and no one else inside. So I couldn't find out why---why!---I had so much trouble finding crankypants (who wasn't taking or making orders) to please, god damn it, give me my purse back. When I finally got her to acknowledge me (glaring, glaring, glaring), she grudgingly got my purse out from the back, thrust it at me, and ignored my thank you.

So instead, I thanked the woman mopping the floors, wished her a nice day, and promptly decided never to go back there again. I realize these people have to get to work at four or five in the morning, and that that sucks. It does! It legitimately sucks. But I go to work at TWO, seven days a freakin' week, and still manage to be civil to other people when my work is over. My job is hard. It blows chunks. The work is a pain in the ass, it's in the dark, and I don't get paid nearly as much as I wish I did, AND YET, I can still interact with the people giving me coffee with a sense of friendliness and cheer.

I don't expect anyone to be genuinely happy to see me. Seriously. I'm sure as hell not happy to see THEM. If I could take my food and leave and never see another human being, I'm content. What I want, what I really, truly want, is to be done the common courtesy of being lied to.

No, really! Lie to me! Pretend you care how I'm doing this morning. Pretend you mean it when you tell me to have a nice day. Pretend it really is a good morning and pretend you mean it when you smile. In return, I will pretend I care how tired you are, how early it is, and whether or not you're feeling all right. If you're a nice person, or if you pretend well enough, I will actually mean it. I really, truly will.

The fact of the matter is, everyone's life blows, and if it doesn't, you don't have to pretend to be cheerful. The very least we can do for each other is be friendly. It might not make someone's day, but it'll certainly give them one less thing to bitch and moan about. It'll give them one less thing to put on their list of reasons why everything sucks. And if it does make someone's day (and I promise, it will, at some point, make someone's day), then that's a win for everyone. You're awesome for making a person feel awesome.

It's a painless way to not be an asshole. And seriously, if you can't handle simple, civil interactions that last minutes at most, get the fuck away from me. Go work in a stockroom or something. If you're not inclined to act like a decent person (yes, even early in the morning), I'm really not inclined to give a shit about whatever problem is giving you such an attitude.