So I sold the guy three waffles for him and his slack-jawed friends (who were rolling cigarettes on the picnic we put out. Handle your shit in private, people that is a gross thing to do on a public surface) and watched as he pointedly put his change back into his wallet rather than tipping me. I don't live or die by tips so this kind of thing usually doesn't bother me but something about the fact that he was not tipping me because I took a 6 minute lunch break made me wish I had the power to perform a shit-your-pants curse. By the way, if Hogwarts existed in the real world that would be a real curse and everyone would always have explosive diarrhea.
By the time I got back to my pizza it was cold and I had to eat it standing up because my moment of leisure had passed. Next time I am just going to let assholes be assholes and eat my lunch. Most people are happy that I am there to sell them waffles. This is the way it should be. Other people seem to feel that they are OWED waffles and if I am not there to serve them promptly than I am violating the terms of some contract that I was supposed to have read. These people speak to me like a 12 year old who didn't do my daily reading and who shouldn't be charging them so much for waffles.
Of course I was fully expecting all of this when I signed on for the job but expecting outstanding douchebaggery and actually dealing with it in person are two very different things. Luckily for me I have giant dimples and a melodious voice so people rarely pick up on my hostility (people who know me know full well how completely hostile I can be when I feel like it but at work I am the breathing incarnate of effervescent charm. you'll just have to trust me on that). The truth is that most people buying waffles are so stoked to be getting a waffle that I really enjoy serving them but they don't make very interesting writing. The over-indulged sociopaths might be a pain in the ass but they do give me something to write about.