What. The. Hell.

Today I planned going to the Chattanooga Aquarium with Leslie. It's a day trip, which I've been looking forward to taking for a while.

The fact that today's a day game (starts at 12:30) has been more an afterthought than anything, an excuse to get off campus early. The build-up to a game so early in the game is more incongruous and the malaise of drunken revelry and regurgitation sticks long after for the rest of the day and evening. I can imagine enjoying the build-up to an evening game. It's a more gradual transition.

So I got up an hour early, which meant I would get to the breakfast dining hall early. I got there about on time, right as about 15 to 20 guys walk in. Fraternity guys, by the look of it. Freshmen, by my estimation. Children by their behavior.

First, there had been a polite line going when I got there, a few people on the stairs, and this one female to the side a little. The line of frat guys in front of me plow through, ignoring any previous semblance of line, cutting her and a couple of others in the process.

There is one of them. Wearing his orange shirt. Unable to quick running up against me, or brushing up against me. I think I smell alcohol, but that may just be a feeble attempt to explain his actions. "Breakfast isn't open?!" he cries, and the others groupthink it up. There's some banging on the metal doors. Talk of rioting. Some moshing. More yelling. More banging. Threats. Laughter. Temper tantrums and cussing.

After a couple of minutes of thrashing about and utter impatience, they return to their apathetic state and mostly ooze outside. A few remain at the top of the stairs.

They start banging on the door again. One girl describes the situation as a conspiracy theory. "First they'll say they're opening at 8:30, then it'll be 9, 9:30... and finally they'll just close down due to the game!" Really now.

Oh, and I forgot to give the time at this point. It's now, oh, about 8:04. Yes, they're only about 4 minutes late.

Another guy, too late perhaps, comments, "Yeah, maybe they won't open the door now. Maybe they're spitting in our food." Yes, the only outlet of a disgruntled employee.

More yelling, more knocking, and then the door opens. The manager is swiping people in. I come up. "I apologize for their actions," I mumble, thoroughly disgruntled. "What?" he asks. I repeat it. "Oh, it's fine. Thank you." It was a gesture of sympathy.

The employees didn't seem to care or anything. They went on. And the frat boys did too. They sat down and ate. Still cussed a lot. But they were relatively calm.

I don't know where to start. Their behavior was childlike of course. Perhaps I should've said something, been the parent in the situation. Maybe I didn't because I assumed a competitive stance. I'll out-patience them. But, too... it would've felt good to chew them out. But I would've just given them a more concrete target. I could have reproached their behavior, but not in a way where they'd learn from it. It wouldn't have done much good.

And throughout, there was the sense of... entitlement, of "The customer is always right." "This is a business and they should be fired for opening late." A business posts hours, but ultimately it can open and close whenever it wants! Of course, it mostly doesn't because that would betray its own word, but sometimes, whether you're understaffed or don't have anything ready, sometimes opening a couple of minutes late is better than opening right then and not being able to serve anyone.

There is some validity to being inconvenienced, perhaps. But even then, that's no reason to act like you have a bad case of diaper rash. None at all! That doesn't make the employees work any harder to serve you (if anything, it makes them avoid you). There is a way to act like the customer is always right while being kind, considerate, and polite. The employee is required to be polite, but they are human too. Treat them as such. Otherwise, I'll come knocking on your dorm room door calling for french toast sticks.

No, I won't. Then I wouldn't out-patience them. But it's so hard.