Sometimes, just sometimes, I wish that by being a Chef, I get Carte-Blanche privileges when it comes to dealing with people in other industries. Here’s an open rant to quick-thinking, detail-oriented staff at any local gas station….

I was at the gas station earlier and YOU, the 40-year-old-ish lady behind the cash register moved with the grace and purpose-fullness of a retarded sloth. Your hand movements showed no initiative, no motivation, not a single ounce of will to live. Listen, I know you you have a shitty job dealing with smelly truckers and tourists asking you 100x a day, “Can I get the kets to the restroom?” But no-one put a gun to your head when you made that vocational decision (or maybe they did), so while you’re doing it, for the love of God, please smile and do your job effectively. You had a line 10 deep and not once did you call for back-up or show the will to satisfy the customers. You did not smile ONCE in the 12-painful minutes it took for me to get to you. I wish I had the power to fire you on the spot.

Ingenious. I think I might need two.