In an exclusive interview for The Kumquat, four powerful business women sat down and shared their stories of service and deliverance. Although the women come from all walks of life, they have one thing in common: they all work at the Schine Dunkin Donuts and clearly don’t want to be there or give a shit at all. The following is an unedited transcription of our raw, emotional interview.
Kum: Thank you all very much for being here today.
At this point, all of the women stared at me blankly.
Kum: I would love to start by asking about how you all met. Was this sisterhood always so strong? Or did your bond develop over time?
DD1: Well the main thing that made us so close from the very beginning was our absolute disdain for the members of the Syracuse University community.
DD2: Hate all those fuckers.
DD1: Specifically it’s the undergraduate students. But also the graduate students, the faculty and staff, and any visiting students or families from anywhere at all. As a team, we often project our disdain onto them with our lack of work ethic.
DD3: Funny story! The first shift we all worked together, we all completely ignored the only customer in line.
DD4: Me and [DD1] both stared right at him and said absolutely nothing.
DD2: And from there we all kinda looked at each other and we knew… we’re gonna do that everyday!
DD4: Absolutely none of us wanted to be there or gave even a little bit of a shit about the job we did. And it’s still true today.
Kum: That’s really amazing. Now, if I could hone in on that a little bit here--I wanted to get to the customer experience. Could you each recall some other moments on the job where you demonstrated directly to customers that you don’t give a shit in the slightest?
DD2: Honestly it’s everyday.
DD1: Everytime I greet a customer, I look right into their eyes and assess the character of their soul. If I don’t like the vibe I get, I won’t fill up their coffee all the way or stir it even a little.
KUM: And how often would you say that you do that?
DD1: It’s been all of the customers so far.
KUM: Fascinating. Do each of you practice this sort of discretionary customer service--deciding when and for whom to properly carry out your job?
All of the women nodded.
DD2: I’m gonna be honest, I spit in just about every breakfast sandwich I serve. I just can’t really stop myself from gathering up a big ol’ loogie and slapping it on a rich white boy’s croissantwich.
DD4: I do the same thing.
KUM: An amazing act of defiance against the bourgeoisie! I’m gonna segue here...shift gears a little...I gotta ask something all of our readers have been dying to know. Do you realize that a large population of the community steal from your Dunkin?
DD3: Oh yeah it’s super easy.
DD2: We all do too.
KUM: Astounding. What would you say emboldens the customers to regularly avoid paying?
DD1: Well we don’t give a shit or want to be there at all.
DD4: That’s very true. Same with the cashiers.
DD3: Candidly, our presence earns us a fixed wage by the hour. We are simply cogs in a capital machine. For this reason, we opt to put forward the bare minimum amount of effort required to serve the murky sludge that “academics” find to be reminiscent of the flavor of coffee.
DD4: It’s true. The four of us, like the cashiers, cooks, and even the students and staff we serve, are all pawns of the larger institution that values the US dollar more than the well being and success of its at-large community.
DD1: Exactly. We also understand that the product we serve is a drug of choice for the community, and the demand for sugar and for caffeine will never decline as long as the institution continues to systematically exhaust its students physically and emotionally. It’s a coping mechanism available on a regular basis at Syracuse, unlike counseling services or healthy dialogue.
DD2: A girl tried to order a “venti” drink from me the other day and I slapped her across the face.
KUM: Hilarious! You women are so kooky!
The women sat quietly for about thirty seconds and then made their way to the refreshments table provided by The Kumquat. They filled their pockets with granola and left the room without saying goodbye or thank you.