My Exercise In Futility

When I went to Starbucks this morning for my caffiene fix, the cashier concluded the transaction by saying, “Have a perfect day!” Is that even possible? Maybe I’m a dick, but it annoyed me. Why ‘perfect’? Why couldn’t he just wish a ‘nice’ or ‘good’ day on me? I think that would be more realistic. Who has a ‘perfect’ day?

Can you imagine the stress of trying to have a perfect day? What if you woke up at 6 A.M. and went to bed at 11:59 P.M., but on the way to bed you stubbed your toe on your way into bed? That would have been 17 hours and 59 minutes of perfection and 1 minute that fucked it all up. Are you supposed to discount the rest of the day and feel that you failed in your quest for the pefect day?

Then I started to wonder, did the cashier wish a perfect day on everyone, or just me? We can’t very well have a city full of people having perfect days, can we? Now I feel his comment to me was disingenuous. Now I just think the Starbucks cashier is fucking with me, and he’s a phony. I think I would have rather he just said, “Thank you, come again!” instead of cursing my day and wishing it perfect. Such a high expectation to live up to perfection is.

So I responded and said, “Fuck off, you phony Starbucks cashier!” Ok, ok, I didn’t say it. But I wanted to!