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Hands To Yourself

September 29, 2007

I just want to toss out there to the world a little bugbear of mine when it comes to cafe interactions.

…Don’t touch my damn territory.

Well, that’s the simplified version, at least. Community Cup was the worst for this, but I was reminded by a customer yesterday at the new job how much it bothered me. If there’s a food item anywhere that’s not individually wrapped, don’t damn touch it. Same for cups, or anything I or my co-workers are keeping on the counter for our use. Want cinnamon? Say so. I’ll slide it over so you’re not intruding into my zone to sprinkle stuff on your drink. Want a second cup? Ask me, that’s what I’m here for – don’t just grope the ceramics on top of the machine with your grubby little paws until you find the mug that’s just so (They’re all identical, wiseass.). This was a common trick at Community Cup, really, ’cause people loved to buy a large and split it into two cups, for economy’s sake.

The one that totally floored me, though, was the girl who opened the cinnamon bun tray to poke the one she wanted, and then just went to grab it with her fingers after ordering. I’d complain about her father, standing next to her at the time, but he was as stunned by the move as I was. After I retrieved the treat and plated it for her, he was explaining to her why I’d objected as they wandered off. By the way, she was, like, 12. Old enough to know better.

Anyway, don’t get me wrong, this isn’t something new or an new-work aggravation already, it’s just been a while since I really wrote a proper work post, and this was something that sparked the writing urge when I saw some chap lift a lid to grab a cookie yesterday.

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