Mildridiots, Volume 3

Only 45 minutes into my shift, and we've already got two more Mildridiots! One was a regular that I forgot about on the first volume in this series, and the other is a brand new jackass.

New York Bastard
I've never seen this guy before, but there was something about him that just screamed "New York City". Maybe it was his classic "NEW YORK CITY" shirt, or maybe not. But he marched up to the counter and announced, "I NEED A BLYSTONE," which is one of our more popular sandwiches. So I made that and called him up to the counter to come get it, at which point he looked at our beer selection (a rather impressive array of Wisconsin microbrews, if I may say so), and sneered, much like a cartoon villain. "Is this all the beer you have?" Obviously it is, but I just said, "Yep," and then quickly added a quiet, "Sorry," after receiving a lengthy glare from him. I'm not sure what I did that needed an apology, but the way he was looking at me made me feel like the lowest scum on Earth. "Oh, come on. I know you have a Maibock back in that fridge," he said, completely serious and more than a little pissed off. "Uh... no. I can promise you we have no hidden beers." Eventually, he settled on a Berghoff, but he was NOT HAPPY about it.

Later, when he was on his way out the door, I cheerily shouted after him, "Thanks! Have a great night!" at which point he stopped in his tracks, turned around and STARED at me for a good minute in the doorway. Reeeeeally awkward. He makes me feel like I'm doing everything completely wrong and hopefully he goes back to NEW YORK CITY.

Potato Salad Freak
Oh, god, this woman is obnoxious. Every Monday - when our potato salad for the week is typically made - she marches in and demands to know just what temperature the potato salad is at. And every week I assure her that it's been in the fridge for at least a few hours and is therefore quite suitable to her tastes (although it just dawned on me that she may, in fact, be the Ice Queen, which is why nothing is ever cold enough for her). Today she went through the same routine, but I was able to proudly announce that it was a slow weekend, so the potato salad from last week is still left over and since it's been in the fridge for a few days, it is most definitely cold enough. "It wasn't a slow weekend. I came in," she sulked, for some reason insulted by me thinking a weekend in which she makes an appearance in my life should ever be deemed "slow".

She also left pissed off for no good reason. And now someone else is here. Let's see if I can go three for three!