A while back I blogged about the cloying and obnoxious customer service policies of a certain restaurant I had privy to reading the employee manual for.
I just received a comment from a woman calling me classist for implying that the need to feel "loved" (if corporate douchebaggery can truly be called "love"- I know all about that one from working in the service industry) by a the man or woman who takes your dirty dishes away reflects a serious emotional insecurity.
Wow. Just wow.
Honey, that busser doesn't love you, he's just trying to get into your pants!
And honestly, I didn't see the service when I ate there. It took them ten minutes to bring us water, and our waitress spent the better part of the evening trying to work me for journalism contacts. If that's love, I'd rather be hated.