*****faces and ****heads

I don't think I ever sucked at customer service. People, for the most part, liked me. Other than the time J.O. told me some woman complained about me at the record store because I was impatient with her because she paid for her purchase with all coins, people were generally satisfied with their service. And J.O., as I recall, was mistaken, because the problem was, the coin lady wasn't complaining about me. She described me as the "heavy set" black-haired girl which I was, but I wasn't the right one. She meant the other black-haired girl with a big butt--Lauren Tweedy. I would relish in any person paying in all coins; it might even make me laugh.

And realistically, I probably didn't make people as happy as I thought I did, but I did make a lot of money in tips when I made coffee. Maybe it was because most of my customers that tipped well were lawyers (shocker--that is, that they tipped well), but maybe it was because said customers were masochists, and they liked the abuse I doled out, what with my witticisms and denigrations. But maybe it was my commiseration during complaint sessions about their overbearing wives.

I remember the only time I was publicly lambasted, and not to my face, but loud enough for me to hear. There was a girl, we'll call her bitchface. Bitchface always got a dry cappuccino with whipped cream on the top. For anyone that works in coffee or drinks coffee regularly, you know how ridiculous this sounds. The whole point of a cappuccino is a bit of foam on your espresso, to enjoy, a lavish treat. Putting whipped cream on top of it all defeats the purpose, and is JUST PLAIN STUPID.

In all the time Bitchface came in, she was never happy with her drink. So, one day, seeing her disgust and frustration with her ridiculous concoction, I took it back, and said, "Tell me exactly what it is that you want." And she couldn't. I tried putting words in her mouth, and I tried coaxing her, but she JUST DIDN'T KNOW. And how can you make someone happy if they don't even know what it is what they want?

After Bitchface took her fresh drink I made her, that she was equally as unhappy about, she walked to the end of the counter, turned to my coworker and said, "That girl is a dickhead." I was shocked, but I didn't want to come to blows, and if I remember correctly, my coworker defended me, and I walked into the backroom, to sulk. I wasn't sulking over the fact that I had been insulted. Oh, no. I know I tried my hardest with Bitchface. I was sulking over the term dickhead. Why not bitch or cunt or twat or even asshole? At least asshole is gender neutral--everyone's got one. But dickhead?

So, I saw Bitchface yesterday, while eating lunch. She spotted me, and I snapped a photo of her, which she may have noticed. I wasn't brave enough to get close, but she knew. I wanted to walk up and ask, "Why dickhead?" It seems the furthest from the truth. But maybe it's not.