bleary eyed

between shifts, i sleep. that seems about all (oh, and do laundry, i have to have my "uniform"). so, i get to work and as usual it's madness. utter and complete.

there are ways to minimize the madness, work clean, work fast, work hard.

but one lady today came in at the end of the madness (actually, at one of the microsecond breaks between the madness when we're gearing up for the next rush), and said,

you are moving so slow.

by then, my eyes were at half mast, elvis had left the building and i wanted to deck her. even if she is at that age when blurting is somehow expected. it's fucking coffee. get over it grandma. wait one more minute and chill out.

but, i shouldn't go there. i can't. i have to be wonderful and attempt to be pleasant.

so i walked away. sometimes, that's the greatest kindness i can give a person (whether they realize it or not).

and when i left the apt this morning, they were "trimming" the wisteria, or so i thought.

well, i return home, and every last scrap of it is gone. it was huge and gorgeous, draping over the trellis porch and now, it's just fugly. as we say.

and my jazz customer who gave me music last night came in and ordered his usual drink, but this time he wanted ME to put in his cream and sugar.

he was at the front of a very long line, and it's not set up for us to be able to do that without a great deal of aggravation. and so, he got his coffee and sugar, but i couldn't do the milk, and just had to hand it off and help the next ten customers.

the good thing about being wicked busy is, time flies.

the bad part, time flies.

no one wants to wait, there is never a breather, and shit runs out. so people get all angry and pissed off (which is probably the same thing), because they had to wait for a whole three minutes for their drink. sigh.

i shake my head when i leave work and have to remind myself, this is a parallel universe catering to some narcissistic clientele. i think.

though, there are many, many decent people through the course of the day. some of them i even like. i am remembering their names, and i'm grateful for their presence.

it's just the fat little old ladies who call us slow, when we're just recovering from a major rush. they are the ones who stand out. why is that?

i need to sleep, i open the store tomorrow, and hope my help shows. (today, the help opted out. kids these days. i swear).