Every late shift that I have worked there is this old guy that drives-through at 5:15 a.m. and orders the same thing. He orders three blueberry muffins, which sounds like a very sensible and, I guess, cute order; but for some reason the muffin man is unable to make the transaction without pissing me off.
The first time the muffin man, who I'll assign the name of Dick, came through for his muffins I handed them to him. In reply to my muffin offering, Dick said to me, with his right arm in the halt position, "Oh, no. This won't do. The bag is too small." This signaled to me that the muffin man's real name is probably Dick.
Another one of Dick's tricks is to tell me what his total is before I get a chance to, which is probably one of the most annoying things on this planet. I don't care that you know what three blueberry muffins costs: $3.27! If your life wasn't so boring, Dick, then you wouldn't know what your total was before you ordered.
It's obvious that Dick has a gut-wreckingly boring life and he only finds salvation in picking on the little guys, so now I mess with him each time he comes through. It brings me joy. You can judge me if you want to. I just to throw him off because he's such an ass-munch and never orders anything different.
So last night I saw him driving around, so I answered the beep,"Thank you for choosing Tim Hortons, would you like to try five blueberry bran muffins?"
"No, just three."
"Okie dokie, three blueberry bran muffins, $3.27, pull up."
"No, no, no, I don't want bran muffins. Just three blueberry."
"You said bran, no problem."
"No, no, regular blueberry."
And then I didn't say anything and pretended not to hear him, then I heard Dick's truck pull up. Next thing, he was pounding on the window. I took my time walking over to, and opening the window.
"Here are your muffins, sir," I said and handed the muffins to him. He gave me the halt signal.
"No, no, no, I wanted three regular blueberrys."
"I know. That's why there are three in the bag, with a couple napkins. Have a nice day."