Jamba Friendly

As a rule, I go out of my way to be kind and generous to service people. They're always greeted with a "Hi, how are you?" And I actually wait for their answer. Then, when we're finished with our transaction, I like to wrap it up with an unfake smile and suspiciously cheery, "Thanks! Have a good one." Most of the time, I mean it. I swear. I figure, there are plenty of assholes in NYC who take obscene pleasure in rubbing virtual poop in the faces of their waitress, cab driver, maid, retail cashier, fellow MTA rider, even their kids. Now, I can choose to make their day worse, better or at the very least, not that bad. With all that skanky karma floating around, it's my civic duty to turn those frowns upside down. There's one thing, though, that ruins my whole I AM SUNSHINE routine, and that's when the service person is nicer to me than I am to them. What the fuck? Do they act like that to screw with me? Are they mocking me by bouncing the love right back? I mean, my internal pleasant meter goes haywire in these instances. It happened this afternoon at Jamba Juice. The whore behind the register took my greeting and raised it 2 octaves.

Me: Hey! How are you?

Jamba Slut: GREAT! HOW ARE YOU?

Lengthly pause...

Me: Uh, fine. I'll have a......a 16 oz......... Banana Berry with a Vita Boost.

I always get the same thing. I'm as regular as my lesbian menstrual cycle. But her wide grin has me flummoxed, my ordering rythym is RUINED.

Jamba Slut: GREAT! THAT'S $4.60. (She says that a 16 oz. smoothie is $5 without affect. Holy schnikes!) WHAT'S YOUR NAME?

Me: (No longer trying to be so much as civil, I say my name as though I was picking myself last in Dodgeball) Shannon.

Horrifying, I know. Manilow-esque, all the key changes. She Coba'd my Cabana. I almost puked. Her audacity shocked me to my core. But, there's a lesson here, one to grow on. If I'm being nice to you, don't go and upstage my ass! Spotlight is on me, bitches! I'm prime time, baby! The Shan is spreading joy and love, so just stand there and be awed by my graciousness, dammit! Watch me march down 5th Avenue to J'ba Juice and repeat those exact words to poor Carol, who's probably lighting candles and doing rain dances so she'll get a Jamba promotion. I'll learn her real quick. But not now. I have to finish my smoothie first, so you're safe for the time being, Carol. However, remember this face. You decide to up the enthusiasm like that again, and I'll rip your balls off, got it? O.K.

Thanks. Have a good one.