Average Pete

Let’s cut the engines for a second and address the elephant in the cramped economy cabin:  Why, in the year of our flying cars (almost), are people  still  utterly obsessed with air stewardesses like it’s some 1965 Pan Am fever dream?  What bizarre, outdated lobe of your brain is stuck on this? It’s not just baffling; it’s borderline pathetic. We get it. Decades of Hollywood and advertising sold you a fantasy: impossibly glamorous women gliding down aisles in cinched uniforms, radiating serenity while handing out tiny bags of pretzels. They were the epitome of “jet set” elegance.  Newsflash: That ship has sailed. Crashed. And been recycled into eco-friendly carry-ons. Here’s the cold, recycled cabin air hitting your face: It’s Not the 60s Anymore:  That hyper-stylized, borderline fetishized image is  history . Crew today are professionals – diverse in age, gender, body type, and background. They’re not there to fulfill your “Coffee, Tea, or Me?” fantas...

Hold onto your complimentary bread baskets, folks, because we’re diving headfirst into the entitled abyss of the “Loyal Customer” – that mythical creature who believes their continued patronage (read: buying a latte twice a month since the Mesozoic Era) is a golden ticket to the Willy Wonka factory of FREE STUFF! Grab your pitchforks made of slightly-bent loyalty cards, it’s rant o'clock! These self-appointed VIPs don’t just  appreciate  service, darling, they  demand tribute . Like feudal lords surveying their fiefdom (which happens to be your struggling café), they stride in radiating an aura of expectation thicker than day-old espresso grinds. “I’m here EVERY DAY!” they declare, conveniently forgetting their three-week absence during the monsoon season. “Where’s my  usual  extra-large, triple-shot, unicorn-tear-infused latte…  and why isn’t it half-price today? ” Loyalty, to them, isn’t a two-way street paved with mutual respect; it’s a one-lane highway ...

Okay, folks, I need to get something off my chest. This modern obsession with instant gratification is driving me absolutely bonkers! Especially when it comes to booking a stay at my beautiful, cozy BNB. I get it. We live in a world of 24/7 everything. Amazon delivers in hours, fast food is… well, fast. But news flash: my BNB isn't some soulless corporate hotel churning out identical rooms like widgets on an assembly line! Lately, I've been inundated with booking requests at 3 a.m. "But your website is open!" I hear you cry. Yes, dear reader, the *website* is open. So is the grocery store. Doesn't mean the cashier is there waiting to ring you up while they're trying to sleep. Do people honestly think I'm sitting here, bleary-eyed in my pajamas, ready to approve your request for a last-minute glamping adventure at the crack of dawn? I have a life! I have a dog to walk, sourdough to bake (because, yes, I'm *that* kind of BNB owner!), and maybe, just mayb...

THE “I DESERVE IT FOR FREE” MANIFESTO: A SCREAM INTO THE VOID OF ENTITLEMENT (By a Service Industry Survivor) Listen up, you self-appointed Sovereigns of Something-for-Nothing! Your decree – the “I Deserve It For Free” Manifesto – isn’t a revolutionary tract. It’s a toddler’s tantrum typed out by a keyboard warrior raised on participation trophies and delusions of grandeur. We’ve seen your kind. Oh, have we seen you. You swan in, radiating the unearned confidence of a minor royal visiting the peasantry, and drop the bombshell:  “After that minor inconvenience/imagined slight/I breathed oxygen near your establishment, I believe COMPENSATION in the form of FREE STUFF is my divine right.” The audacity isn’t just breathtaking; it’s suffocating.  Did your latte arrive 47 seconds later than your inflated sense of urgency demanded? Manifesto invoked! Did you  perceive  a slight chill from the server who’s been on their feet for 9 hours dealing with creatures like you? FREE ...