Alright, bigshot. I get it; you just wanted to go out and have a nice time with your friends, but something about this establishment rubbed you the wrong way. I understand and I feel your pain and that you want to speak with a manager. But what you don’t seem to realize is that this is the only frozen yogurt shop on campus. And this is MY house.
Because I AM the manager.
That’s right. It is I: the manager. Me. The person who is giving you an unsolicited critical analysis of the 1984 cult classic ‘Repo Man’ is also the person with dominion over this entire franchise from 3pm to 1am on Wednesdays through Fridays. I’m big poppa yogurt ‘round here and you are but a peasant in my fief.
With your cooperation you may find that I am a benevolent manager. I round down change for people wearing good band shirts and I give free yogurt to people who compliment my cool pins. So no, I’m not going to change the music. This is track number nine, ‘Vanity Fair’ from Mr. Bungle’s 1999 masterpiece, ‘California.’ And yes, my phone can override the jukebox.
You think I should smile more? Because yogurt is, what, fun!? Do you think it’s fun trying to clean Magic Shell® out of tile grout? You think you can put on your big pants and strut your stuff into my store, saying we’re out of strawberries like I don’t already know we’re out of goddamned strawberries? Can’t you see me cutting goddamned strawberries?? Stop telling me we’re out of fucking strawberries!
I am but a humble civil servant. I toil away for the masses and receive little to no gratitude for my efforts. The utter disrespect you’ve shown me, your manager, is heartbreaking. Oh, and here’s your strawberry gelato.
Are you happy now? Satiated by my managerial prowess? Does the lust within you for a higher power yield in my presence? Because I work sixty hours a week and I’m going to listen to the Kyuss album from behind the little candy buffet and if you take this from me I will lock the doors and set fire to the yogurt and you can ask to speak to my manager in Hell.