Cheese buns and change

On occasion I have been known to find social actions that bug the shit outta me. However, I feel it is always important to find something good in the experience to balance out the irritation, cause I know, that when there is no balance I become unbalanced and THAT my friends is not a pretty sight. Walmart incident. Say no more.

So just this week I found myself off at another local hospital for a course. I used to work at this hospital but haven’t been back over for years. It is a smaller, religion-run hospital that was always, except for the oppressive prayer overhead each morning at 0800, not such a bad place to work.
I had forgotten about the cheese buns. This hospital maintains a kitchen staff that can bake and cook real food. Each Friday they have a cheese bun tradition. These most excellent kitchen staff (I envision them as Nuns in full habit) create these heavenly cheese buns. Yeasty and warm and full of cheesy goodness, these buns are and have been the motivation for many staff to get out of bed and show up at work Fridays. And so in honour of the kitchen nuns and years of working Fridays, I had myself a cheese bun and reminisced about all the cheese buns I have had before sitting in the cafeteria. Cheese buns took me to CAB buns…remember the joy of those early morning delights before class?  Generations of students have risen still dreaming, cinnamon drawing them from their student hovels to provide a very good reason to be darting from building to building in search of knowledge and CAB buns. Crunchy on top, gooey cinnamon on the inside, best served warm with as many pats of butter you could steal.

Like all good experiences the cheese buns gave rise to another experience to balance out the cheesy joy. The obtaining of change when paying for goods. It used to be, in days gone by, that when you bought something you received your change into your hand counted out. I remember sweating over the whole learning to count dollars and cents from the price of purchase so that the customer knew and could see that you had given then the correct change and THEN they put the bills in your hand as part  the counting out and showing you that they had given you the correct change. No more. Change is either dumped in your hand, bills first and then a hand full of change that slips and slides invariably off the bills and out of your hand, OR dumped on the counter in front of your outstretched hand.

What the fuck is the point of that? The money is dirtier than my hand can ever get, so why can’t you put the change in my hand?

And while you are at it, make eye contact with me so I know you are aware that I exist. Learn some basic customer service. It’s not hard, it makes your job more enjoyable to YOU the minimum wage earner and ultimately, if I remember you as someone who provided good service you will benefit from it.

Add to my cheesy bun experience and I will add to your minimum wage experience. See, we all benefit when you act like a human being.

But I’m not bitter, the cheese buns out weighed your insolence.

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