The store closed at 11:00 PM. It has closed at 11:00 PM on Sundays since the dawn of time. It is almost the only store in the whole city open that late. But it closed.
Ah yes, the door. It was indeed unlocked. This is because the majority of our late-night customers are a step below poo-flinging monkeys on the evolutionary ladder, and are terminally incapable of picking up their own trash, or dropping a cigarette butt in the ashtray they’re about to steal. It takes twenty full minutes to clean up the crop circles of trash and cigarettes they leave out there – and this was what my co-worker was in the middle of doing when you barged in.
Now, I looked up from cleaning the espresso bar, and I figured you were too dumb to be holding up the store. But then I listened to the following exchange:
“I’m sorry, we’re closed. You can’t come in.”
“We just want some coffee!”
“No, we can’t make you coffee. We’re closed. You cannot be in here.”
“Come on, you can let us in for just four coffees!”
“No, sir, I am not allowed to let you in here, and we can’t make you any coffee.”
At this point I decide my co-worker needs backup, because you’ve been joined by three of your friends who also think nothing of walking into a closed store. So I come out from behind the counter and use my harsh annoying get the fuck out of my store you moss-licking pigknuckles voice.
“NO. We can NOT make you coffee. We are CLOSED. You need to leave, NOW.”
And oh! The looks of confusion! How could we not bow to your every need? How could we not empty the coffee urns we’re cleaning, brew a pot of coffee, reopen and uncount a till, and break the rules badly enough to risk immediate termination for four belligerent assholes who apparently can’t read a watch?
Be glad I was in a good mood. It’s all that saved you from an excellent view of the back seat of a squad car. Next time I’m keeping my cel phone at hand when I close.