Not the smelly homeless guy who flashes us and moons us, or the smelly billionaire who never tips, or the smelly guy from across the street who sits on the sidewalk with a money-box all day and reeks of patchouli. There are no redeeming features with those guys-- you don't want to touch their money or their old cups when they come for refills. Your nose twitches and your skin crawls.

No, it's all the other customers who I miss. The ones who, in the process of being annoying, provide entertainment value.

First of all, there's the crazy grinning lady. She's not crazy in a depressing way or crazy in a scary way-- she's a fun sort of crazy. She has this freaky rictus grin, and she comes in with her stuffed animals and tells us things about them, or shows us "tricks they can do" or otherwise indicates that she is a nutbar who thinks her stuffed animals are alive.

First there was her bear who had a toothache and had to go to the dentist to have his tooth "amputated." Then there was her unicorn-- we had to be very quiet, because the people at Jamba Juice made a lot of noise, and the unicorn "got spooked" and then they had to leave. Then there was the dog who could do backflips and "ate" our cookies. The best tactic is to acknowledge her politely, but don't engage. Conversing with her is like being in a Starbucks somewhere in Twin Peaks. "My latte saw something that night..."

Then there are the Amazing Multiplying Asians. It's weird, but every once in a while, a few people will come in and order drinks and sit down with their laptops. They are all Asian. And you think nothing of it, until three more Asians with laptops come in. And two more. And six more. Until the entire store is filled with Asian people and their iBooks. They don't seem to know each other-- at least they are all quite quiet-- but it can't be a coincidence, can it?

Tonight's batch of AMAs included a couple of serious hotties. Asian guys who talk like California surfer boys-- I have no idea why this is sexy, but it is. My weird fetish, you heard it here first.

So. Then there are the customers who, if they see you are wearing a green apron, will wander up to you and order a drink, regardless of where you are, or what you're doing. I'm sweeping the floor, and they walk up and say, "Grande Latte" very emphatically. Or I'm on a stepladder changing a lightbulb, and they smack me on the ass and yell, "Get me a Mocha, wench!"

Okay, I may be exaggerating. But if you're working the bar, you get this all the time-- people who ignore the line at the register and try to order drinks from you while you're in the middle of making other people's drinks.

Boy, you should see how slowly I make those beverages. Don't want to wait in line, buddy? In a big hurry, are we? Can't be bothered to be polite? Well, you're getting a shot of espresso that's been sitting around for ten minutes, and old milk that's been steamed four times already, and it's going to be cold and nasty, and you're not getting it for another fifteen minutes, because I have the power! Muahahaha!

Ahem. Sorry about that.

I also hate the cell phone orderers. "Just a minute," they say to whomever they happen to be talking to. Then they spew out a terse drink order, as if you're some kind of robotic coffee-producing cow or something, and go back to their conversation. I'm left with hand signals to carry out the rest of the transaction.

I usually don't bother trying to find out if they want cream in their coffee or whipped cream on their Frappuccino or any other amenities-- I just make shit up, at that point. If they care that much, they should get off the damn cell phone. Sometimes they feel guilty and tip us, though. That's always a plus.

Of course, there are the people who fling the money at you or in front of you. Or drop crumpled bills on the counter. Or pay you in pennies. Or hold their money so you have to reach for it. Or take three hundred years to dig through the bottom of their purses for fifteen cents. Yes, I've missed them too.

On the other hand, my Dutch customer who works at a law office down the street brought me a giant jar of Amsterdamse ouitjes-- yellow sweet-and-sour onions she picked up in Holland because I told her how much I loved them.

So not all customers suck. Many of them, in fact, are damn fine people. They're just not as interesting to write about.

Every Christmas picture doesn't contain a put-upon looking cat. This one does, though.