"You don't have any real Parmesan."

"Excuse me, do you have any real Parmesan?"

The distinction between these two sentences may seem small to you, but to me it really isn't. The first one is an assumption, and it is often delivered in an accusing manner, sometimes with an added note of panic that says "You realize that in your complete inadequacy you are about to ruin my entire life, don't you?", but always, always in a way that says "Well, I knew this was a shitty little Po-dunk town, so I guess I should have expected as much, but I am still really disgusted with you". Occasionally, it ends with a question mark and is filled with incredulity, as it was with the woman who couldn't believe that we only had thirteen different non-dairy cheeses, and actually used the word "pathetic" to describe the selection.

This happens regularly, and as with the screaming infants and the whining toddlers and the clueless parents, it becomes less and less tolerable with each repeated incident. And as my day wears on,my patience wears thin. This week has been especially exhausting, because both of our dogs have been, um, how do I put this delicately...
Oh yes- SHITTING THEIR BRAINS OUT.

And every night I have been up and (literally) running out the door to avoid disaster. They have been to the vet and we have drugs, but that doesn't change the fact that I have had no more than three consecutive hours of sleep in several days, and as you may imagine, this has made me slightly more testy than usual with certain types of customers.

"You don't have any real Parmesan."
"Actually, we do. In fact, we have three different kinds. Would you like me to show you where they are?"

I smile when I say this, but it is the smile of a person with a knife in her hands that is thinking about which of your appendages she is going to plunge it into first. Sven has been a lot of fun this week, thank gods, and has saved more lives than he knows by either making me laugh or running interference for me.

"I can't figure out why, but I feel more aware this week than I have in a long time that I am a Service Worker to these people, rather than a person who is doing a job." He paused before asking "Do you think they're just tourists?"

"I think they're just ass-"

"Hi, can I help you?" he interjected, going around the counter on yet another interception. He waved his hand frantically at me behind his back, urging me into the kitchen.