Customer Service: Had to run into the post office this morning with another load of 50 or so mailings, mostly ShopKat pendants. With the new postal printer and scale the process is painless and much, much faster. Ive set up a mailing station in the shop where Im able to mass purchase and print out postage. Each order gets double checked against my order list, loaded in the envelope, labelled with the postage, sealed, and dropped in a USPS tub. Everything is seamlessly organized and managed through Etsy and PayPal. Every couple of days I take the tub down to the post office in the morning before they open for regular customers and hand the full tub through the business mailing window, they hand me an empty tub in return, and its done. Simple, fast, accurate and it beats the hell out of standing in line. Also, theres a lot less cursing involved. My good mood didnt last long however. On the way back, I stopped at the local grocery store to get a breakfast sandwich and a cup of coffee. You ever end up in line behind one of those people who thinks ordering is some kind of sporting event? I run into these goddamned people all of the time, they seem perfectly normal, but then they turn into Frasier Crane when ordering: Hmmmmm well my good woman, Id like a breakfast sandwich. But I want it on herbed Italian flat bread instead of the focaccia. The bread should be warm, but too warm, soft with just the right amount of fresh pliability. I want ham but not that ham you usually use, Id like that Special Order ham from French pigs that were raised in isolation on the Isle of Elba and have been fed a diet of truffles and white wine. Top that with one slice of twelve year aged Gouda thats been smoked above a slow fire made from the staves of whiskey barrels. Egg white only, from organic duck eggs that were laid by free range birds and collected by monks in the twilight between evening prayers and vespers and then hand washed in sweet spring water. Organic sprouts and a banana pepper sliced lengthwise. And a diet coke. Okay, thats the first one, now Ill need another sandwich, this time its a little more complicated, youd better write this down... [Note: I might be paraphrasing here] Its everything I can do not to punch these people right in the back of the head. While shes toasting jackasss sandwich, she starts in on mine. Ham, cheese, egg, and mayo and frankly I dont care what the pig ate, just slap it together and wrap it up. Naturally halfway through, the oven beeps and Frasier begins to snort impatiently. She stops assembling my sandwich and pulls his from the oven, she starts to wrap it but he wants it cut. No, diagonally. The cheese swishes out, she scoops it up with the edge of the knife and puts it back in but now the wrapper is a mess and he wants a new one, so she does that. Eventually she gets it straightened out, takes off her gloves, rings up Jackass and he departs. Hallelujah. She washes her hands, puts on new gloves, turns to finish my breakfast, spies the cheesy wrapper, picks it up to toss in the trash, misses, it falls to the floor, she picks it up and pokes it firmly into the trash, the trash bag comes loose and the trash settles into the can, so she reaches in and pulls it out and gets it back in place ... and returns to assembling my sandwich. Um, scuse me, says I. You just had your hands in the garbage can and now youre ... Oh. Heh heh. Sorry. She disposes of the gloves. Washes her hands. Puts on new gloves. And goes back to assembling the sandwich she was just touching with garbage hands. Listen, Ive eaten some pretty nasty things in some pretty nasty Third World places, and Ive gotten food poisoning more times than Id care to discuss, but there are limits. I point out the issue. Eventually we arrive at the proper combination of hand washing, new gloves, and fresh food. Now for coffee. Like most modern grocery stores, this one has a Starbucks. Im not a huge Starbucks fan, but I need coffee. I order a large latte. The girls behind the counter are chatting about something and are less than focused on the customers, but really how can you screw up a latte, right, just coffee and milk. Except at this point one of those large loud women makes a grand entrance into the store, the queen of the trailer park has arrived. Theres a commotion, shes apparently upset that the girl on the cash register isnt making coffee today. She wants some kind of secret coffee - with extra love. I want YOU to make it, she announces loudly, pointing to the girl at the register. Youre the only one who gets it RIGHT. The girl making my coffee is distracted by this, I can make it right! I put love in it! Trailer Park gestures imperiously at the other girl, She puts the extra love in it! The barista has now completely forgotten that shes supposed to be making my coffee. She demands a chance to prove her mettle in single combat, I can put in extra love! Trailer Park, Im talking about the secret menu, the one you guys dont tell the public about. You know. Extra love. The conversation about extra love continues while I watch the girl distractedly pour milk foam into a cup and pop a lid on, Jim? She hands me the cup. Excuse me, says I. This isnt a latte. Yes it is, the girl says like shes talking to a child. She points to the side of the cup, See? Latte. A latte is coffee, milk, and foam. This is just hot milk. What? Hot milk, you were talking, you forgot to put the coffee in. What? No coffee. I point, the shot glasses full of espresso are still sitting on the machine. Oops! The Queen shouts, Ha! You didnt get no love! You didnt get no love! Story of my life, Your Majesty, story of my life.
Posted on: Thu, 18 Sep 2014 18:29:06 +0000