the huge hassle

customers often come in with very complicated orders -which is fine because I am extremely particular about my drink and/or food orders. In fact I am so picky that I almost never order something straight off the menu, but rather alter the item so thoroughly so as to render it impossible to pick out of a line-up. This characteristic allows me to be especially empathetic toward patrons who have specific and detailed needs. Specifications are pretty easy to accomodate, and if customers are confused I can usually put something delectable together for them -as long as they know what they want. This does not apply to the people who are not aware that they are confused; the people who blindly order things with odd specifications that will undoubtedly produce a horrible flavored outcome. It is these people that the service worker must tread softly with when trying to guide them through the perilous valley of takeout options. Understandably, these people chose buying food out because they do not have the tools or materials to assemble the same damn thing at home, and thus they depend on the highly incorporated food companies to have worked out a smooth system that whips up their desired edible in a heart beat. For the most part this is the case, however specifications tend to throw a wrench in this system; information must be given and questions must be asked so that service worker and patron can have an understanding. As long as both parties are aware of this, things can run smoothly.

garbage musings

Its odd, but the time that I am most likely to mention to customers that I have a college degree is when I am out on the floor of the cafe changing the garbages. It's not a compulsion like the huge homophobes who feel the need to justify their heterosexuality at every waking moment, rather its more of a murphy's law thing -and though it happens often, I never seem to realize what's happening until it is too late. For example, while doing said action the other day, I noticed a girl wearing a sweatshirt with my alma mater's emblem:
(me) "Did you go to the U of M?"
(Her) "yeah"
(me) "so did I!"
I pause for a few moments and then add "and now I am changing garbages"

An Introduction

Working in food service when you are too good for the job (as is the case for most workers) is unfortunate; Working in food service after having achieved a college degree is a pain: at this point, you are making way less money than you paid toward a college degree that renders you overqualified for the job in the first place. However, that is not the part about this scenario that irks me, because a lot of people with bachelors go into the service industry post grad as an intermediary stage -a place to take it easy, such as the landing that connects two very long flights of stairs- to get a feel for life's benefits without the restraints that go along with any real responsibilities. I am quite comfortable as being the lowest-of-the-low employees in my corporate coffee-chain job because I can get insurance and pay rent on relatively few hours of labor, and I am left with enough cash flow to pursue my own interests, such as traveling -which, because I am but a mere star in the corporate galaxy, is easy to do given that many can pick up my workload while I am gone. My minimum wage job would have a failsafe system if it weren't for the customers. These are the people who in myriad ways take it upon themselves to impress upon me and my service-world peers of the minor contribution we are making to ourselves and the world. It is this population of people who find it clever to remind me that their coffee habit pays my bills; the people who think it's cute to tell me that they "really admire my work" while I am changing the garbage on the cafe floor. To get right into it, I have been roughing the service industry since I was sixteen years-old (I am now 23) and while I credit this line of work with many benefits, such as getting me to come out of my social shell, the positive aspects have come hand-in-hand with many teeth-grinding elements which I would like to present, through a sardonic humor filter, to anyone who may come across this "CLog" (Comic Log). This is mostly for my venting, for other service workers' relating, and for current or future patrons to recognize these representations of bad behavior in themselves -to be ashamed by them and to model their subsequent actions against. take care,
J