Stay frosty, Phil, stay frosty...!
Quick story lead-up: Phone call at 6:45. That's in "am". Not too bad, for your normal Joe. I, however, am not named Joe and am not normal. My biorhythem, dude, cycles from about noon to 4am. It was the new roommate, Tanis, who we have employed at the coffee shop. He was due in the north shop at 7am, as backup to the opener. Only problem is, gee whiz, the opener never showed up. So I haul my lazy arse out of bed, get dressed and haul said arse down the road to the shop to get it open. Now, this is one of those rare occassions when I actually have a day off, even rarer that it is in the middle of the week, but haul I did. When I arrived, the opener had shown up, and things were running smoothly (as smooth as a shop that opens an hour late can run...). Well, I'm up, feeling grumpy and hungry, so I decided to continue the arse haulin' across the street to Mickie D's for a grease infused breakfast.
This particular location employs a gentleman I like to call "Phil, the Angry Dwarf". He is, indeed, a Phil (well, okay "Phillip", but it angers him to be called "Phil", so I ensure that I always shorten his moniker... Well, not to his face, as he's usually agry enough), indeed, a dwarf, and is, indeed angry. I've never gotten a smile, or even so much as a "thank you" from him. Service with a scowl, that's his motto. I can't really blame him, too much. If I was 3' tall in a world built for those 5' and above, I'd be a little angry too. P.A.D. was in his usual foul humor and wouldn't even serve me, as he was far too busy wiping down the front counter. I had to wait until another rocket scientist decided to take my order for a McGrease sandwich.
I am, I freely admit, one of those mannerless souls who likes to read at the table while dining, especially when eating out, alone. Hence, I tend to linger over my meals. The newspaper was particular interesting today, so I lingered long enough to finish my soda (can't stomache the swill they call coffee) and wished a refill. Again, Furious Phil was the only grease slinger on duty at the counter, but couldn't be bothered to refill my cup as he was "about to get off". While I was waiting for another future millionaire to stoop to pushing a button for me, a lovely young lady walked in. Phil immediately jumped to attention, and was grinning from ear to ear as he took her order. Quite polite and genial. Suddenly, he's the male, dwarven version of Emily Post.... Well, I'm pretty sure Em doesn't drool....
What the hell, Phil?? I'm always nice when I order. In fact, I'm usually extra nice, in the effort to alleviate what must be an average hellish day for you. And yet, since I'm not young, nor pretty, nor female, I don't deserve a kind word? I know it isn't me; I've seen you treat every other customer in the same gruff, angry dwarf manner, for years. All or nothin', Phil! Give 'em all hell, or throw a smile around a little more often. If you're going to play the role of the angry dwarf, then play the part! Or be a decent human being, and try being a little cordial now and then. Don't be so selective, you pocket-sized pervert! You diminuitive dipstick! Ugh! I now fully understand dwarf tossing.....
That's it! I'm hauling my arse back to bed. And dreaming of tall women.....
This particular location employs a gentleman I like to call "Phil, the Angry Dwarf". He is, indeed, a Phil (well, okay "Phillip", but it angers him to be called "Phil", so I ensure that I always shorten his moniker... Well, not to his face, as he's usually agry enough), indeed, a dwarf, and is, indeed angry. I've never gotten a smile, or even so much as a "thank you" from him. Service with a scowl, that's his motto. I can't really blame him, too much. If I was 3' tall in a world built for those 5' and above, I'd be a little angry too. P.A.D. was in his usual foul humor and wouldn't even serve me, as he was far too busy wiping down the front counter. I had to wait until another rocket scientist decided to take my order for a McGrease sandwich.
I am, I freely admit, one of those mannerless souls who likes to read at the table while dining, especially when eating out, alone. Hence, I tend to linger over my meals. The newspaper was particular interesting today, so I lingered long enough to finish my soda (can't stomache the swill they call coffee) and wished a refill. Again, Furious Phil was the only grease slinger on duty at the counter, but couldn't be bothered to refill my cup as he was "about to get off". While I was waiting for another future millionaire to stoop to pushing a button for me, a lovely young lady walked in. Phil immediately jumped to attention, and was grinning from ear to ear as he took her order. Quite polite and genial. Suddenly, he's the male, dwarven version of Emily Post.... Well, I'm pretty sure Em doesn't drool....
What the hell, Phil?? I'm always nice when I order. In fact, I'm usually extra nice, in the effort to alleviate what must be an average hellish day for you. And yet, since I'm not young, nor pretty, nor female, I don't deserve a kind word? I know it isn't me; I've seen you treat every other customer in the same gruff, angry dwarf manner, for years. All or nothin', Phil! Give 'em all hell, or throw a smile around a little more often. If you're going to play the role of the angry dwarf, then play the part! Or be a decent human being, and try being a little cordial now and then. Don't be so selective, you pocket-sized pervert! You diminuitive dipstick! Ugh! I now fully understand dwarf tossing.....
That's it! I'm hauling my arse back to bed. And dreaming of tall women.....
posted by Turtle at 8:01 AM
3 Comments:
Cut the poor guy some slack. When you're only 3' tall the world is nothing but a non-stop parade of crotches and asses. How often does the little guy have a groinal encounter that is pleasant? (of course, for you freakishly tall people the worst you ever see is the annoying bald spots of us vertically challenged folks) ;-)
Love and kisses,
Marius
Geez, Marius... I figured the King of Rants would be with me on this one. My problem isn't with the runts vertical challengeness. It lies in his mistaken belief that he can turn on and off his bitterness at will, or, more to the point, for a pretty girl. You want to have a problem with being under tall? No problem! But be consistant with it!
And being freakishly tall isn't all that it is cracked up to be, either. In addition to having to stare at your bald spots all day, 92.5% of all things are stored at 4' and below and we have to break our backs to pick anything up. Cabinet doors are practically lethal and spiders like to build their webs across sidewalks and driveways at around 6'... making safe passage for you abbreviated ones, but, inevitable, causing we altitudinous ones to do the "spider web dance"....
Actually I am on your side, I hate it when folks who choose a service profession resent providing that service. I just wanted to use the phrase 'groinal encounter' and that seemed the best way to do it. ;-)
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