Working out the Kinks
I'll tell you one thing, Mr. ponytail and beard condescending Kinko's Assistant Manager: You only have to tell me once that my request to make a heat transfer t-shirt iron-on at your store is not going to happen. I don't really care about the potential downside for you and your machines. Once you've told me that you're not going to do it, the conversation is over.
Maybe you should ask Sandeep, the nice, unfortunate woman working at the Office Depot copy center. No sooner had she started with, "Oh, I'm sorry..." than I had turned and was on my way out of the store. I've got time constraints here, ponytail guy. This "heat transfer" must be complete tonight, so that Sandra Bullock can iron it onto the white t-shirt she bought at Target yesterday. Then it must be washed in time for the Jawa to wear it to his birthday party Friday.
The t-shirt would bear the legend "Lego Boy," along with a couple of images of Lego creations. This is important, because the t-shirt will single out the Jawa as the host of his Lego-themed party.
This is my excuse. I normally would not be this rude to the employees of copy centers.
I take that back. Faced with a patronizing, beard and ponytail-wearing Liberal Arts grad who has scrapped and fought to attain the post of Assistant Manager, I might draw on my considerably deep reserves of rudeness and direct them at said person.
But I did not. I was in too much of a hurry. So come on, ponytail guy, if you can't do it for me here, tell me where I can go to get it done. I don't care about your machines, I don't need a tutorial, and I can barely hear your dulcet tones over the sounds of the copiers raging in the background.
Yesterday I was exposed to the breadth of copy store employees. There was Sandeep, well-intended but perhaps underinformed; the exhaustively aforementioned ponytail guy. Later, as the Jawa and I roared downtown to the Kinko's at the corner of Van Ness and Clay, we found a nervous, neatly-trimmed beard-wearing Assistant Manager named Jeremy, who was much more deferential and service-oriented than the ponytail guy. Jeremy, who wore the GAP-produced gear of the smart retail manager, made sure to find someone else who could help us before turning and discussing his plans for later in the evening with one of his employees.
Jeremy passed us off to Sayed, who passed us off to Michael, who introduced us to a rather large young woman whose name I never got but whom I am indebted to because she, after telling us that the transfer would not be ready until 9:45, and then listening to me irritatedly relay the information via Treo to Sandra Bullock, suddenly produced our work within 5 minutes. Thank you, overweight, high-end glasses-wearing woman. Though your demeanor was dour and you seemed a little put off by my reverance, and though the eventual iron-on did not, in fact, iron on, you have an understanding of service. For that, I will remember you always.
As for you, Mr. ponytail and beard condescending Assistant Manager, I'll bet your novel sucks.