your neighborhood grocercoffeeshopchemist.

It all started with the woman who asked me exactly how much coffee to use for the 100 cup pot she is using for an event. I have never seen this pot. She has never seen this pot. Neither of us know how many ounces it makes, or uses. That's like walking into a bakery and asking the woman making muffins how many eggs to use for the muffin recipe you have at home. You don't know anything about the recipe, but since she's a baker, she must know how many eggs you will need. Right? I tried to be patient and kind. I ended up grinding a bag of coffee and counting out, in front of her, exactly how many tablespoons of ground coffee one of our bags makes. 60. That's how it started. The day, I mean.

Now I am breaking over oatmeal, because if I didn't take a break, I thought I may explode, spewing the contents of my intestines all over the lady that asked if our oatmeal is instant. Yes. It's instant. It wasn't the question that took me to the edge, but the bit of huff she gave, after I gave the answer she wasn't looking for. The huff was followed by the sentence "this is a difficult decision", which was accompanied by an annoyed stance, as she eyed all of our unhealthy options that didn't fit into her lifestyle.

GO TO THE GROCERY STORE.

HAVE AN APPLE BEFORE YOU LEAVE THE HOUSE.

OR BETTER YET, MAKE YOURSELF A BOWL OF WHOLE GRAINED UNREFINED ROLLED OATS, AND THEN EAT AN APPLE.

WE ARE NOT A HEALTH FOOD STORE.

I apologize that many of my posts lately have been the utterly annoying people I am forced to help live their lives each day. It's just making me realize, along with expose on my personality - and the moods that accompany it - given to me by my boss' husband, that perhaps customer service is not where I belong.