Beard Of Defiance

So now I am back to work after a long weekend with my sister who came to NYC to visit me. We spent the whole running from one place to the next so she could see everything. The Latino Thug keeps calling me "son." I am NOT his son and refuse to be referred to as such. I am wondering if this whole "son" business is just a subconscience primitive quest for dominance and repect, the deisre to be the Alpha Male. ??? Since the Mayor told me that he likes me clean shaven, I have decided to grow my beard of defiance. I don't wanna shave. Make me! The Latino Thug, my Manager and Mocha Boy are all obviously talking about masturbation in Spanish. Apparently, the correct verb for such an action is "POM! POM! POM!" while moving one's fist back and forth. The Russian is stupid and can't count. She tells me I need to get 8 whole milks when there is obviously only room for seven, and 6 soy milks when there is only room for 4. What the hell? I have to drag them back downstairs. These two Jeish chicks who are as dumb as a box of hair order decaf and repeatedly tell me to "make sure it's decaf" as I'm pouring it and when I make it for them, they change their minds to French Vanilla instead. "You know there's caffiene in those, right?" I say as I they drink from them. They both looked shocked. "You don't have decaf French Vanilla?" "Nope." Inside my head, I am basking in my success in beating them. They come back and ask if the wine we sell is kosher. I don't know why they care since they don't even look old enough to but any. One of the Olsen twins decided to grace my cafe with her presence. I can't tell which one it was because one of them always dresses nice and the other one like a hippie. The one who came in today was a mix between high fashion and bag lady chic so Mary Kate...or Ashley...if you are reading this...I have a name and it's not "Hey, gimmie a..." My favorite black girl from accross the street buys some zuccini bread and tries a sample of what we have out. She spits it into a napkin I have handed her when I tell her that people have been touching it all day. I have decided that the Russian is not merely switching back and forth between bitchy and politeness. She is a rare find. A polite bitch. She says things with a mixture of "I'm Better Than You" and "Please And Thank You." She will be destroyed. I just have to come up with a plan. The Mayor's teeneaged granddaughters come in and have lunch with him. The whole time they just sit there pecking at their salads, fake laughing and looking slutty. Again, I use or bread samples but in a bad way this time. Since the girls get free food anyway, I tell them they can just take some real pieces instead of the samples. "Those have been touched by people all day," I say as one of them swallows and then makes a disgusting look at me. A foreign man of indistiguishable origin comesin with his girlfriend and pays for what he has ordered. He handed me a dime when I needed a nickel, which he had in his hand. I put the dime back in his hand and took the nickel. "Five is bigger than ten?" he asked me, "Yes," I replied. He then said something to his girlfriend which I can only assume was a foreign "five bigger than ten" penis joke because they both burst out laughing. We had a small electrical fire today. Two extensions cords started smoking where they connected while one of the men I worked with quickly unplugged one of them. I just watch the smoke loom in the air before disappearing towards the ceiling. I probably would have died if I kept watching it the way I was and the fire got worse. Oh, well.