Well, folks, it's that time again. I'm feeling the need to vent, so here's my first set of Letters To My Bakery Customers.
Dear Oatmeal Raisin Cookie Guy,
What's your deal? No, seriously, wtf is wrong with you? On the blog post that I wrote about you, one of my fellow bloggers pointed out that there might be a medically documented reason your idiocy, but I don't agree. I think you're just a wack job who enjoys being a pain in my a** every freakin' week. Well, let me tell you something, pal, cookies may crumble, but you will not break me. In other words, there is no way in h*ll that I'm going to give in to your insanity and ignore store policy just so you can have your 'oatmeal raisin cookies only' fix. Nope, I might be really tired of decorating cakes all f**king day, but you will not be the reason I lose my job. Go find yourself a store that actually sells what you want, or I'm going to beat you senseless with a baguette, drag you over to my side of the bakery counter, and then put you in the oven to bake like your precious oatmeal raisin cookies!
Dear Carrot Muffin Lady,
I don't suppose Oatmeal Raisin Cookie Guy is your husband? If not, you two should get hitched and move to a land far, far away. I'm thinking Never Land. You know, where Peter Pan, Tinkerbell, and the Lost Boys live? Yeah, that would be the perfect place since you guys are never going to grow up. Seriously, you two are like spoiled brats who can't get their way. Well, like I told ORCG, I won't go against store policy just so you can have what you want, when you want it. We bake carrot muffins when we bake them, and that's that. It's not my fault that you always come in when there aren't any left. If you're that desperate to have some, come in every single day for a week, and you just might get lucky. Or, you could just get the h*ll over it because, if you don't, I'm going to stab you with the sharpest carrot I can find. Capice?
Dear Bread Biatch,
Have you ever heard of a word called 'please'? Have you, you botox binging freak? I mean, do you seriously think that shoving bread at me and rudely asking me to "slice it" is the way to go? Well, let me tell you something, you frozen face fiend, if you plan to come back to my counter, I suggest you sign up for lessons with Miss Manners first. Otherwise, the next time you ram a bread bag in my face, I'll ram it right back at you and take your freakin' eye out!
For more letters, check out:
Letters To My Customers
Letters To My Customers - Part 2
Letters To My Deli Customers
Letters To My Deli Customers - Part 2