I Hate Me, part 106,551
I was late for work and ran into Starbucks for a coffee, it was a short but terrible line:
“What kind of vanilla syrup do you use?”, “How large is the tall, REALLY?”, “Do you know how many Starbucks are in Howell? I’m from there.” And one of the registers was out of commission, there was a person crouched on the floor behind the counter working on it. When it was my turn at bat the barista apologized for the delay, I cracked “You guys must be really short handed today, you have children working” indicating the guy behind the counter working on the register. It was an innocuous comment, just light small talk. There was nervous laughter from the barista and then the guy working on the register got up, glaring, and he was really short, not midget (or “little person”) sized but well under five feet tall. I’m sure he must have heard “child sized” all his adult life and now from a giant goon like myself. I stared at the ground, muttered some unintelligible bullshit, grabbed my coffee and over tipped.