Sorry, I don't Really Worship the Ground you Walk On.

I have decided, as I'm sure have many before me, that working in any form of customer service can be truly baffling, as well as eternally entertaining on at least one party's part.

First, there are the employees.

Of course there are the relatively normal employees--the ones who do their job moderately to well and have a generally good attitude. Most other employees have no problem with these employees.

Next in line are the noobs. They are either extremely shy--much looking at you in shock and fear when you call them by name and screwing up of orders followed by profuse apology--or trying aggressively hard to "fit in" with the other employees as if they have worked in the establishment all along. The shy ones you pity; the aggressive ones you seethe at.

Following the noobs are the airheads. These are people who, no matter how long they have worked for a guy, don't know he owns the place. They are taken out of dreamland constantly and tend to have a huge lack of initiative, eg. "Take this order." "Oh...what?" "Take this order." "Oh. Yeah." They also have a tendency to call people affectionate nicknames like "chick" or "you", apparently due to their inability to commit anything of any sort to long-term memory, ever.

Of course you have the creepy dudes. You know the ones. They like to tell you how good you look or flirt "harmlessly" with you when it is so very apparent they really just want to lock you in the freezer and rape you. They also tend to touch you in innocent places, like the shoulder, and then gradually try to get to the bum or even breasts. Any inappropriate touching is always an "accident". My words of advice: just don't let them touch you. Ever.

The slutty chick(s) are always present. They are sometimes also airheads. They like to wear non-uniform clothing so they look hotter than everyone else and the creepy guys in authority don't control it because they like it.

Then there's the employees who like to tell everyone all about their sex lives always all the time, the worst part being that one can practically always tell it is grossly exaggerated--sometimes even completed fabricated.

The doormat is next. The one who does whatever you tell them to, and sometimes, when you're feeling ruthless, you take advantage of this. Don't feel guilty. It's your nature.

Everyone else is either weird, controlling, annoying, too young or too old.

Secondly, there are customers.

Normal customers are nice. The normal, nice people who order normal, nice food without ridiculous modifications, who pay with normal, nice money (either a solid bill or plastic) and treat you nicely and normally. Customer service is seldom a problem here.

The people who make ridiculous modifications can be one of three types: decisive and apologetic (DA), indecisive and confused (IC) or decisive and impatient (DI).

The DAs have their huge long list of modifications in their heads and they blab it off without any problems, but they apologise every time I have to type in that it's modified. "...that will have extra pickles, switch to red onions, extra onions, switch to shredded lettuce, add bacon, no ketchup, extra mustard, add Southwest sauce and switch to ciabatta bun." Pause. "Sorry." On and on it goes.

The ICs of the world don't really know what they're ordering, what they want to change or why I'm getting frustrated with their idiotic order-placing capabilities. "Hmm...I think I'll have a...double hamburger...that's no cheese, right? Okay, um...make that no pickles, please, and add mayo...oh wait, I think I want that in the meal. That comes with fries, right? Can I get large fries? Okay, um...wait, no, I just want the medium fries but a large drink, and uh...can I get a Sprite to drink? Wait, wait, Fruitopia?...Actually, no, wait, make it a Sprite. In fact, just forget the meal, I don't want fries."
UGH.
That's all I have to say about that.

Finally, the worst of the modifiers, the DIs just hate that it takes longer to type it in. They ask for eight thousand changes and expect it to just magically happen. I AM NOT A SUPERHUMAN. Get it through your thick impatient skulls! They glare at me like it's my fault they want a burger that doesn't even exist. They also like to get mad when it costs money to add things like more meat. Sorry guys, food isn't free.

About equally awful as the DIs are people who just hate everyone. They come in angry, get mad when you ask what they want and they don't know yet, then get mad when you're not standing there waiting on the edge of your seat for them to finally order. They get mad when you tell them a price, they get mad when you take their money, they get mad when you ask them to repeat themselves or clarify their order and they get mad when you hand them their food no matter how quickly they got it. They are just angry people who always hate happy people. Actually, they just hate people in general. If they hate people so much they can make their own food.

Mumblers. Hoo, nelly. I mumble, but when I'm eating out I try to speak clearer without a doubt. "Blmmb..umbm...urger...cheez...flmmum crum coke." Uh, what? Open your mouth! For heaven's sake! It's the absolute worst through drive through. Drive through is a whole different blog entirely though, so I won't get into that.

Those really, really, really, inexplicably happy people? Yeah. Why don't they come around more often? They make you want to serve them. I don't have to say any more on that. They just smile and are super polite.

Oh, then there's the over polite people. "Can I please have bacon cheeseburger please with extra ketchup please and a large fries and a root beer please? Thank you." The order barely squeaks through your outrageous Canadian manners.

Those people who just keep talking? And talking? And talking? Hate to break it to you, customers, but we only pretend to care about your child who must be a prodigy because she got perfect on her grade one spelling test. Once your served, we want you to go away.

Overall, I'd say the most baffling customers of all are the ones who get angry at nothing. "HEY." "Uh, yes?" "I asked for a GIRL toy, and look. I got a BOY toy. Something WRONG here, or is it just me?" Geez lady, cool your jets. It takes all of two seconds to grab a different toy. Or, "Uh, excuse me?" "Uh, yes?" "Forgetting something?" Thinking, looking at receipt, racking brains...nada. "Uh, what am I forgetting?" Scowl. Red face. Pursed lips. "Ketchup." "There's ketchup at the condiment stand over there." Glares at condiment stand. "Oh." Storms off in a huff.

Macaroni.