On Refining Kindness & Flattery Given Constraints of Human Error

There’s a new guy working in the café here at the hospital, where I get my coffee in the morning and my lunch in the afternoon. The food selection is limited, though limitation is a delusion created by demons. Today I should try something crazy, like tuna salad in the French Onion soup, and a root beer instead of water. I may have to think some more on it; demons are not that easy to subvert. Anyway, there’s a new guy. A very dark black guy maybe in this 30s, or 40, hard to say. Not much hair up top, a sparse bearding going on on the chin. Gravel voice. The first time I saw him I did not feel a warm connection to the new guy. I was in line, waiting to pay for my coffee in the morning; the line was long. He was having difficulty, being new and not knowing the buttons to press. That in itself is just human and excusable, but he didn’t seem to care about the lag he was causing. I wasn’t sure I liked his attitude. When it came my turn to pay, he said "What can I get you, my dear?" So I backed down and thought, well, maybe he does know how to properly act the part of friendly cashier, what a nice fella, etc. It was the "my dear." As I was walking away, I heard him say "What can I get you, my dear?" It occurred to me the "my dear" was less meaningful when delivered without discretion, but I thought no more on it and got my coffee. The next time, I was the only person in line and got another "my dear." There was nobody else there to get a second, diluted "my dear." I left happily. I’m such a sucker when the term of endearment is used smoothly. I know I’m a sucker, but I’m still a sucker. This morning I got another cheery "my dear." I walked happily to the coffee machine with my empty cup. As I was walking away I heard, "What can I get you, my dear?" Now that’s just diluted, over-used, barely meaningful. Don’t tell your lover you love him or her every ten minutes or your love is up for question. I think, in order to refine his craft of being the pleasing cashier, this guy needs to put enough space between the "my dears" so that during one visit to the café nobody who receives it hears it given to somebody else and that everybody who does not receive it hears it at least once but not more than a few times. If I were standing in a line and heard the "my dear" spoken to the person in front of me, I would think that was nice, he must know her. Of course there is always chance for the jealous bitch who will grumble in her head about why that skank in front of her got a "my dear" and she didn’t. So it goes.