Minor ranting (no...really...minor)

Me, looking irritated

In the great scheme of things, I have very little to complain about. I have my basic needs met, got my health, a library card and TCM -- can't ask for much more than that.

The thing about having very little to complain about is that -- now this is only a theory -- it is human nature to find something to complain about. In my defense, when I find myself being annoyed by minor things, I mentally scold myself: "This is your problem? This?"

Still, my mind searches desperately for something...anything...that might fall beneath my lofty standard of perfection (I stress the "my" -- "my lofty standard of perfection" is really not difficult to attain and is certainly way, way below the standard of perfection of others I could name.).

Get ON with it, Sisiggy...

Okay, okay, okay...

So the phone rings. I politely answer...always, whether I'm at work or at home, I could be bawling over the death of my cat and I will cheerily and encouragingly answer the phone. Not because I'm a good person, but because I'm an ingratiating people-pleaser and whether you be a relative, friend or telemarketer, you must find no reason to dislike me, even in my phone greeting.

Get ON with it, Sisiggy... 

Okay...cheerily answer the phone. On the other end, hesitation; then a voice: "Who's this?"

You're calling me and I HAVE TO IDENTIFY MYSELF?

I told you, these are not earth-shattering complaints...

Or the assumption that my free time is up for grabs. This happens when someone wants me to accompany them somewhere or do something and instead of coming out and asking me to do it, asks, "What are you doing on Saturday?" As if, unless I come up with a convincingly dire task, I'm doomed to driving whomever to the airport, helping them move heavy furniture or accompanying them to their little Finster's dance recital.

Just for the record, when someone asks in this manner, I always tell them I'm clipping my dogs' toenails that day. I keep all these dogs for the specific purpose of avoiding running registration tables or walking 15 miles instead of just writing out a check.

NOT Loop-holers

One last one (though I could go on...), related to the cafe: The loop-holers.

First off, you need to know that our prices are very, very fair. No one has ever complained about our prices and several good customers, most whom have become friends, have suggested we don't charge enough.

In truth, we have applied the standard formula for coming up with prices. What we don't do is "add on" what the market will bear; mostly because these days you really can't tell what the market will bear and partly because we're more interested in running a cafe that's an integral part of the community than in gambling our credibility on getting rich (I know that sounds sappy and unbelievable, but there it is).

The loopholers, however, love to find ways to work the menu to get things cheap or free. We had one customer order a sandwich that was on special, only he/she wanted extra lettuce, tomato, and onion and to add some ranch dressing, all on the side in a separate container (it was a to-go order). Usually such requests are only made when one of the kids is taking the order because they'll let it go and we end up giving away a side salad on an already cheap order THAT'S GETTING FREE DELIVERY!*

Fortunately, such customers are the exception; but I have to admit that it takes all my resolve not to launch into a lengthy tirade when someone asks if we have free ice tea refills and proceeds to monopolize one of the Twinz' time refilling glasses of tea that they subsequently dump into one of those large, gallon thermoses*.

It occurred to me, as I was writing this, that it has been a long time since I've written a post like this -- universal irritants that can be easily soughed off; almost five years.

I guess I'm grateful that I notice them again.

But I'm still clipping the dogs' nails on Saturday.


*All of this could, of course, be avoided by instituting policies; but that becomes such a slippery slope and your menu ends up reading more like a legal document than a friendly list of good food. It's probably inevitable as we grow, but so far the number of people exploiting our better nature has been miniscule.