Dear married man who hits on me at work…

You disgust me.

I hate seeing your face every morning.

I work at a coffee shop, bro. You are supposed to come in, get your damn coffee, and then leave. Seriously. Get out. I don’t need you hovering over me acting interested in my life.

Lets pretend for a second that I would have the slightest interest in dating you and that you aren’t actually married. Your pick up lines suck. Like the first day I met you when I asked if you wanted whip on your drink. The picture you painted me of your S&M fantasies were completely unnecessary. All I really needed was, “No, I don’t want whip cream.” The response you gave me was, “I could tell you a thing about whips and chains.” Completely unnecessary. And frankly pretty gross. You’re bald. Not even like a cute bald.

Seriously, your pick up lines suck. Here, let me refresh your memory:

Me: “What would you like this morning?”
You: “A short red head.”

Cute. I see what you did there. I’m short and the smallest size of coffee is called “short.” And I have red hair. How original.

You know what the worst part about this line is? You tell say it to me every single day. I don’t even ask you what you want anymore. I know when you come in you want a Quad Iced Venti Cinnamon Dulce Latte with no whip cream but a freaking dome lid. Yet, you still insist on approaching me and saying, “Morning, Kace, you know what I want?” Okay, one, you don’t know me. Only people who know me can call me Kace. Two, if you mean to ask if I know your drink order, the answer is, “duh.” I make it every morning. Three, no part of me cares what you want. Yet, you still feel the need to let me know that you “want a short red head.”

You could at least try to hide the fact that you’re married. I hear you talking to my coworkers about your wife and infant daughter. I see the wedding ring on your finger. What do you hope to accomplish here?

On that note, who do you think I am? Do I seem like the type of girl who would date married men? I am very concerned about your sense of judgement, sir. Either that or I need to reconsider how I conduct myself at work. But, I’m pretty damn sure I’m not handing out coffee in any way that would suggest I want to be part of an affair.

Just for your information, I don’t even know your name. When I talk to my coworkers about you I refer to you by your drink. That is how much I don’t like you.

See you tomorrow morning, sir.

Best,

Kacey