A little girl looked at me today, as if I were the dumbest creature she could imagine.
She had ordered a mocha. Simple enough, and a very common order. Only she was young -- had to still be in grade school, in fact.
So I did what seemed obvious, and asked her if she wanted a hot chocolate instead.
Then came the look. She narrowed her eyes, cocked both her head and hips. "I love coffee," she said.
Now I am not normally one to argue with customers. They can get what they want, and so long as I can accommodate their request, I'll do so. But this was a special case. She loves coffee? Right. Whatever. But at the very least, she's got to drink decaf. Kids that age are boundless bundles of energy as is.
Once again, the obvious thing turned out to be the stupid thing. "Caffeine," she said. One word. Not a descriptor, but a command.
Suddenly I'm not seeing a little girl anymore, but some 240 lb wall of ripcord and granite, grumbling through course facial hair about how he wants his gawdamn coffee.
So fine, I oblige. That is my job, at the end of the day. Let her try the thing, take one sip, and learn her lesson.
Or let her take one sip, declare the drink fantastic, and walk away satisfied.
The lesson here? Maybe something about how books shouldn't be judged by their covers, or something like that. But moralizing isn't my thing. Maybe, it's just that little kids are fucking scary.