Dude lives in Brooklyn. Of course he needs therapy. :dubious:
I’m okay with servicepeople knowing my name, at least when there’s some other obvious way for them to know it other than stalking me, but when the gal at Domino’s cheerfully called out that she’d be seeing me again tomorrow, that was a bit annoying.
And before you say anything, no, I don’t eat pizza daily. Well, not anymore.
Yeah, and it shouldn’t be. Because not everybody is comfortable with it, yet these companies FORCE their workers to do it. They should allow their employees the freedom to be “friendly” or not based on their own judgment. If they get a vibe from the customer that they don’t want to be “befriended” they should be allowed to keep it robotic.
When it comes time to plant those beans I hope you know your ass from a hole in the ground.
I don’t have enough room at my place for a whole burro, so I got a burrito.
Yeah, very likely, there’s just none within however many hundred miles of the middle of nowhere that gets selected when you search for “Alaska”.
And I’m on board with this rant (or I need therapy too). I’ve stopped going places once I’ve become a regular.
You do realize how unviable this is, right? If service people didn’t have to be nice then they’d drive all the customers away the first time they met a rude customer and started shooting up the joint (which is, of course, the natural response to a rude customer). Then the rude servicepeople would be fired, and their replacements would talk in hushed whispers about the guy who didn’t learn all the regulars’ names.
Yeah, it’s too late but my solution is to only give my surname, which has a chilling effect on all but the most determinedly chipper. Weird groupthink thing though - everyone that’s expecting to only hear a first name gets it wrong as Brian. It’s happened on occasion all over the Midwest.
Sure, you kiss one and plant seeds in the other.
A certain famous international spy had the same problem, but he just laid it out clearly: “The name is Bond. James Bond.” I suggest you do the same. I don’t mean the same concept. I mean what you literally say is, “The name is Bond. James Bond.” Once again, that should take care of things. If perchance some serving person finds that cute, ask her out on a date using my previously cited James Renfield persona. 
I’ve read this like five times and I still have no idea what you’re trying to say.
We could always start fake news that your local Starbucks is Hillary Clinton’s secret child sex slave pen and wait for some alt-right whacko to show up with a gun. Maybe that will scare the barrista harpy away.
well you could be known as the dude that always had a kitten up a tree…
See one of my cats was about 10 days old when she was found while taking a short cut up an alley
and sometimes shed just dart out the door when Id answer it…
and since I have delivery fairly often said kitten would blow past me and delivery person and straight up the city’s tree and id stand there for a couple of hours doing the here kitty kitty thing looking like fool…
So eventually when I read the address they’d go " oh how’s the kitty ? and some even brought snacks (the cat had a sausage Canadian bacon and pepperoni addiction… thanks dominos …_) …
eventually about 5 years ago thry cut the tree down and a few weeks later cat ran out the door to the tree and her world ended *it wasn’t there! * she sniffed and dug and paced and meowed like she was crying …
One guy who left the aisan food place joined the army and came back to the job after couldn’t find the house because of well theres no tree there … but when he seen the cat staring out the door he said he knew where he was … and spent a few minutes catching up with my cat …
How do they know to yell it with a “k” instead of a “c” (and how good are you at telling the difference)?
pffft. I weave my own burlap for the bags, AND every summer, I free dive from a cliff in the Yucatan, and catch an octopus. After I have harvested enough ink to put an imprint of me any my burro on the bags, I release the octopus, of course.
The OP says he goes there for that vacant touch of humanity, so telling him to grind and brew the coffee at home is, well stupid.
When she calls out your name, look at her with your eyes squinted shut and give a small head shake “no”. People don’t know what you want if you don’t tell them. Why suffer?
I love places that ask for my name. I tell them one that’s long and hard to spell on a cup. Charlotta Maria, Susaranalee, Meredithanor, etc.
Can I ask both of you losers a question? Where do you get your water? Water is the essence of good coffee! I make my own water and electricity from the same fuel cells that power the coffee maker and the rest of my spaceship. My water comes from pure hydrogen and oxygen. I can take my whole coffee ecosystem and have it work on Mars. I can grow my own custom genetically modified coffee beans on Mars, too – all I need is some of Matt Damon’s shit. And you? You have a burro and some burlap bags. Pathetic.
I commune every morning with the Platonic Ideal of a cup of coffee.
I grind my wheat at home and bake my hand thrown pizzas on a stone made by monks in Italy. I never use tomato sauce. No one greets me by name.
You bought the stone? Pathetic.
I don’t drink coffee therefore I win.