A Machine Without Feelings

I’m just a machine without feelings

Don’t greet me when I say hello.

By all means, launch into your drink order.

But it may be decaf--you'll never know.

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While waiting to give your order,

Must you dance like you have ants in your pants?

And nearly bowl over the person ahead of you,

As all must bow to your circumstance?

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No extra large frappuccinos? The first of first world problems!

“I need this,” and “I need that”

No one “needs” a "venti extra, extra caramel frappe,”

Forgive me for hoping you gain substantial fat.

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Berate me when you must pay

For extra espresso, syrup, and caramel.

Lambaste me for the products we no longer carry

As if of course, I am the one who decides what we sell.

While waiting to receive your drink,

Tell me five times, ten times, forty, “Just light ice,”

Practically climbing over the bar to make it yourself.

Four mini ice cubes are too many--make it twice!

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Harass me for napkins behind the bar

Spill your drink, grind pastry pieces into the floor,

Can’t you manage to simply push your chair in?

I suppose you’ve not been out in public before.

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Give not a second thought to my humanity,

As you order “just a splash of heavy whipping cream,”

For I myself have stopped thinking of yours,

After all, I am nothing except a machine.

Author's Note: I composed this poem with the intent of entering it in the challenge "Things You Can't Say Out Loud" but alas I missed the deadline. I am publishing it now with the hope that you still might enjoy reading some of the countless petty thoughts I've had whilst working as a barista in the past. The tone of the song below perfectly captures how customer service has deadened my soul and darkened my heart.