I was second in line, and after the person in front of me was finished, an old Koraen woman cut in in front of me. Fine, old, crazy lady - but the cashier dealt with it like I wasn’t even standing there. Then, I placed my order. She said, “ok,” then served three separate Korean kids who wanted ice cream before even vaguely doing anything about my order.

And I thought to myself, “fuck this.”

I told my wife, when she returned after making the deposit, now some five minutes and no closer to my bubble tea but three ice cream kids later, and she wanted to say something. For some reason, I stopped her. I didn’t want to make a scene. That’s not actually right. I wanted to burn that motherfucker’s store to the ground. But instead, I walked away, and it didn’t feel like taking the high road.