Now that it’s getting into busy season (aka Christmas break), we’ve all been working crazy hours, including a 10.5 hour day for me this past week. Fun! Not particularly, but hopefully the paycheck will be worth it. (Yeah, right. It’s not like we get holiday bonuses.)
Not only are we slammed almost every day, but the customers are for the most part some of the most obnoxious, worst mannered people I have ever encountered. I don’t know who their mother (or father) is, but I was taught to clean up after myself. When I unwrap a straw, I throw the wrapper away. When I’m done with a drink, I get rid of my cup. That does not mean I leave it on the table. I throw away my napkins. I wipe up spills. I bus my own table. I always think about a sign I saw once at an eating establishment, years and years ago.
“Your mother does not work here.”
Subtle, but succint. I am not your mother. I don’t want to clean up after you like you are a one year old who cannot be held accountable for your mess. Because chances are, you are not one year old. Not if you’re reading this, not if you’re drinking Starbucks coffee.
You are not entitled. I’m not here to clean up your mess; your mother isn’t writing me a check.