The other day I was going to pick up a gun from my local dealer, and I went to Starbucks and wanted a fancy mocha drink and a sandwich. I only had a $100 bill on me. You can see where this is going as it’s probably happened to you at Starbucks.
Some feminine little 22 year old boy that weighed about 95 pounds behind the counter tells me, “We can’t take that”. That’s all he says in a snotty little tone, looking up at me with pursed lips and a little smirk. Well, the day wasn’t going particularly great to begin with, I was starving, and it was 2:30 PM and I had been on the run all day. I just wanted to pay for my stuff and leave.
“Well, I don’t know what that means for me, because that sounds like a YOU problem little man, not a ME problem” I told him. He just looked up at me with distaste, pursed his little fembot lips and said, “Well, we can’t take it. Do you have something else?”
Now I was getting pissed.
“Do I look like a retard to you?” I bellowed. “If I had something else, I would have given it to you, you little shit, because I sure want to get something to eat and I sure don’t like getting your damn attitude. Now I have given you US currency, and it says right on the bill that this is good money for all debts public and private. Now I am the customer, and you are the proprietor. I have given you an order for food and drink, I am trying to pay you in valid US currency, and you’re giving me crap about it and making me feel like I’m the asshole for some reason, and that’s wrong. What’s truly wrong is a that a multi-billion dollar company can’t leave a few hundred dollars in the damn till so that customer like me can buy our food with cash and get change without you hassling me about it. Now what are you going to do about it?”
With that, the “manager” came over. He was about 27 years old and a little better at customer service. He said “We can give you the drink, but we can’t give you the food. Drink is on us.” Then the little fembot ass licker that was serving me initially repeated “Ya, drinks on us” with a little smirk. I practically reached over the counter to grab him by his pencil neck and strangle the life out of him. I said, “Do I look like I have a hearing problem you little sex-identity confused punk? Shut up and go hide in your non-gender specific bathroom and have a good cry before I really get mad.”
I then took my drink and left. I was still hungry, but I had had enough of the Starbucks attitude, and I vowed then never to go into another Starbucks again.