Last night I was at work at a Beverage Shop. It’s not my favorite job I’ve ever had because the customers are incredibly entitled. However, it’s a fairly young business, and I’ve been in customer service long enough to not give in to spoiled customers just because they want me to.
Anyway. The end of the night was approaching, beautiful, sacred closing time. We had gotten a decent rush about 20 minutes before we closed (at 10 pm) so we were a little cranky about how behind we were on finishing our tasks for the night. At 9:55, we’re finally getting somewhere with our cleaning when the phone rings. Sounds like a youngish boy, I’d say 15 years old at most.
He asked what time we closed, and I responded with my usual, “We close at 10 every night, but we’ll be open at 11 again tomorrow morning!” That’s not working for him. “My friends and I really want some of your drinks, but we can’t be there by 10, can we come like five minutes after and still get drinks?” I tell him no, the doors get locked promptly at 10. “Oh, well we really want the drinks, what can you do?” I say “You can be here by 10 because I personally will be locking the doors.” We hang up. I know he’s going to try to come anyway.
Sure enough, at 10:06, my coworkers and I hear a bunch of banging and rattling on the closed doors. Yep, like three or four high school aged kids. Sorry, we’re closed. The chairs are up. The menu is turned off; someone is mopping, THE DOORS ARE LOCKED. Any time they catch one of our eyes (which we all do our best to avoid) they give us what they think are puppy dog eyes, and we laugh and shake our heads at them. No dice. They keep assaulting the doors. It’s getting annoying, so I look up at them brightly with a big smile and start walking toward the doors. They start getting excited, thinking they’ve finally worn us down. I hold eye contact until I swerve to the right to turn off all the lights. I could hear their collective “awwwww!!!” of disappointment through the door. It felt amazing. They left. I laughed. I won.
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