In Which I Lost My Temper... and then Almost Did Again

It happens once a year, and it happened two days ago. I lost my temper.

It was two-ish in the morning, and I had to open at work which means I have to be out of the apartment no later than 4:45 am. Upstairs was music blasting, presumably to cover sex noises, and downstairs they were playing Halo so loud I could hear all the little details of the game, like when someone died or something.

I tossed. I turned. I put on Jeff Buckley. I tried counting sheep. I breathed deeply.

"Fuck!" I screamed. "Fuck fucking fuck fuck fuck!"

I stomped on the floor. I jumped up and did a lead-footed version of the bunny hop. I bruised my heals, and then I flopped on my bed again and cried, for, like, half an hour. The entire time the music and Halo continued to blast and blare in all its neighbor-annoying glory. I went online, where I talked to Phil, who told me to just go say something. By this time I was flipping out, so I threw on some clothes and marched out the back door. First I marched upstairs and pounded on their door. No answer. (They were DOING IT... and you know what "it" is). I marched downstairs, and POUND POUND POUNDED! on their back door. No answer. I gave up.

Eventually, I fell asleep and about a millisecond later, I had to get up again and work an eight hour shift that started at 5:30.

Who was not a happy camper? That'd be me. The kicker? First and last orders of the day were Frappuchinos, and they were bad for different reasons. I'm thinking about begging the Corporate office to implement a "no Frappuchios before 8 am" rule. I kind of want to ask people, "What the hell do you want a Frappuchino for this early? Do you realize I'm not getting paid nearly enough to smell Mint Chocolate Syrup (aka "Foot-smell syrup") at 6 am. Do you realize how disgusting this is? DO YOU?"

People. Seriously. REGULAR COFFEE IS A BEAUTIFUL THING. Then the last order of my day was for a bitchy woman (and seriously, why is it that 99% of customers-from-hell are women?) She was freaking out because I started to put caramel sauce on top of her Frappuchiono. When she called me on it, I said, "Oh, sorry!" very cheerfully and started to scoop it off. There was three drops of caramel on the thing, and I was in the process of procuring a spoon when she screeched at me, "JUST REMAKE IT! JUST REMAKE IT!" I spun and stared at her, for a good couple of seconds, because I was actually stunned that she was screaming. I had a flash fantasy of her wearing the Frappuchino before I flung it in the sink.

"Here," said Sam, who saw how upset it had made me, "I'll finish it. Just go cash your register out for the day." She patted my hand, which was the only thing that kept me from bawling (I'm pretty tough, but you have to keep in mind I was going on 1.5 hours of sleep and working 8 hours).

One customer told me I was very kind to have not screamed back at her, and that I handled myself gracefully, and my fellow baristas were over-kind to me to make up for it, which I thought was wonderful. I work with great people. Kind of young and dramatic, but they're great.

But seriously people. It's just fucking coffee. Don't yell at me. And if you want a Frappuchino before the sun is up and it comes to you tasting vaguely like spit, I'll say I have no idea what you're talking about.