So my boss’ father did die last night. I do not know whether my boss was at the hospital at the time or not.
I have spent a lot of time today trying to think about how people overreact to trivial things and why. I think it has a lot to do with control. We are all more upset about the Ukraine, climate catastrophe, crime, Covid and gun violence than any daily minor annoyance. But there is nothing one can do that feels truly meaningful to fix these terrible things. Throwing a tantrum will not help, and we all know this. We have no power to really make a tangible difference short term to much of the truly awful.
But in the trivial we often do have power. Throwing a tantrum in a retail setting, for example, may well work. Many people are loathe to give up any power in a minor situation. People with little self confidence may feel the temper tantrum is their only way of maintaining control of the little part of their life in which they actually do have some control. Those with more confidence know the power of empathy, calm reason and self control. Those with less confidence see these as weaknesses because they do not have these abilities. Bullying is all they got.
It’s like people who go to a sit-down restaurant right before closing, and stay for several hours, especially if word has gotten out that an employee telling someone to leave is a firing offense.
One of my pharmacy colleagues told me about doing several days of relief work at a grocery store (now long since closed) in our own city, in the wealthiest part of town, and she said that in those few days, she was never cursed at, yelled at, etc. as she was in those few days, and it was the only time she’d ever had a customer throw something at her. Yeah, she was a target just because she was behind a counter; never mind that she probably had more education and made more money than most of them, too! She even said, “Give me a 100% Medicaid population over those entitled $%^&s!” (RIP, Mary.)
Like others before me, I found out early that I was not suited for a job which entailed contact with the public. In my case it was at a members-only supper club, where any benefit accruing from lack of contact with the Great Unwashed was offset by the heightened sense of entitlement of the customers.
For those seeking solace — and an occasional chuckle — Norm Feuti did a comic strip about the travails of the employees of a fictional department store. It covered not only the myriad offenses of customers, but also trollish management (on several levels) and corporate policies that were apparently developed by examining the entrails of a dyspeptic goat. He closed it out in 2020 to concentrate on childrens’ books, but the entire archive can be found here.
I’ll never forget what jerks my high school boyfriend and his buddy were to the waitress when we were in a restaurant one time. Their idea of a hilarious prank was to leave the tip (just coins, this was back in the early 70s where a 50 cent tip for a modest order would be within range) at the bottom of a glass of water. I protested that it wasn’t funny, but being thoughtless young men they thought they were very clever.
At least one of the two grew up to be a decent human being, and I think the other did as well, so they weren’t beyond redemption. But to this day I feel pity for the poor waitress who had to deal with that crap.
I had someone relate to me how as a teen she and her friends thought it was hilarious to cover the bottom of a food tray with condiments (ketchup, mustard, whatever was at hand) at a fast-food booth before leaving. That way whoever came to pick it up afterward got a nasty surprise.
I never understood that. Even as a kid, I always cleaned up after myself. I figured whoever worked there had it hard enough. I don’t get the idea of it being fun to ruin some stranger’s day, someone who never did anything bad to you.
The “meanest” thing I ever did at a restaurant was when my high school girlfriend and I ate at a sit-down restaurant, and when it came time to pay, we barely had enough money to pay the bill and didn’t have very much for a tip. It was less than a dollar. We left the money and I wrote a note that said something like, “I am so sorry, the service was great but this is all of the money we have, we would tip more if we had it.” I always hoped whoever got that tip understood. I felt awful about it for a long time, I still do honestly. (I mean, I still remember it after all.)
The issue was people coming in at the last minute then just moseying around. So these are things you do to get their butts in gear after you’ve let them in and are now trying to get them out. At this point yes, the doors are locked so nobody else gets in.
That happened to me and my brother once. I went back to my car to see if I could find any more loose change. I finally convinced (and she took some convincing) her to take a check for the tip. I felt really bad.