The Pho King

I was sick the last few days, and naturally craved soup. I, being the well cultured individual that I am, decided that I wanted to get pho. My decision was 80% based on a joke involving being the "king" of pho.

My fever had lead me to an odd sleep pattern. I found myself waking up at all odd hours of the day. Seven, Eight in the morning. I finally managed to gulp down enough green-dyed jager-flavored cough syrup to pass out until a far more manageable hour. Nine PM. At which point, I made the choice to seek the aforementioned pho.

Fortunately, I found a 24 hour pho place that was only a few miles from my place. Pho Citi in Silverlake. I arrived to be greeted by the kindly gentleman behind the counter whose v-neck was deep enough it revealed his chest stubble. He asked me to wait a minute. It's cool, I get it. I've worked shitty jobs too. He's got shit to do. And I had to decide which type of Pho was acceptable to order. Trite and tendon? Really?

I figure out what I want and set the menu back to let him know, ya know, I'm ready to order. No reaction, but it looks like he's kind of busy, so I don't say anything. Another customer comes to the counter. He helps them and goes back to what he's doing.

"I think I'm ready to order," I say. And he gives me this look like fucking whatever. Look, dude. Your job sucks. Bummer. Do it anyway.

I order the rare beef pho and he places the order with the cook in the back. In the meantime, his shift relief arrives. "I had to deal with the bitchiest customer today. It was like you wouldn't even believe." They do their respective eyerolls and the cook puts my to-go container at the window.

The cashier hands me my bag with the soup in it. And in the most bullshit passive-aggressive voice says "Thanks so much for coming. Come again soon." I honestly think he does shit like that to get a reaction out of people. Because his job is so tiresome, he can't help but want to provoke people with his sarcastic crybaby bullshit.

Pho was great though. Good Pho and I passed right the fuck back out.

I woke up at like 1pm. I slept like a narcoleptic. No, like a narcotics addict. I finally came out of my small coma and wanted more pho. So I drove back to this place, figuring asshole's shift was finally over.

I was right. When I arrived, he wasn't there. Turns out, he doesn't work 18 hour shifts so his job isn't really as bad as he thinks and he needs to shut the fuck up and stop being such a little girl. Or just kill himself. Seriously. No one cares about how bad his job is in this economy.

I arrived back at the 24 hour Pho place. At lunch time. The door is wide open, so I walk in. Two dudes are sitting at tables doing paper work. One of them tells me that they're closed.

"What?"
"Closed. No open."
"You're... 24 hours... "
"No Pho."
"But it's lunch time. All you serve is Pho."
"No pho."
"I really just want some soup. Do you know somewhere else that sells pho?"
"I don't work there. Go now!"
"You don't have any like... in the back I could—"
"No Pho! Go now!"

So yeah. Things got a little heated. Turns out, passive aggressive is a better attitude than aggressive aggressive, but aggression has no place in a business model. Especially not in a food service job that lives on tips. You wanna be a dick? Get a real job. The rest of us have shitty jobs and we just have to deal with it cause we know we're not hot pho king shit.