My Skin is Paper-thin

I recently had the worst experience at Dunkin Donuts. I was late (as usual) to meet my sister yet obviously still stopped to get a coffee. My lack of punctuality of course did not give me the right to be impatient; however, had I had hours of free time, I still would have wanted to shoot this man in the head. Perhaps I should have felt sorry for him as he was clearly experiencing early stages of Alzheimer's, but I did not, as I rarely feel sympathy or compassion for others.

As I neared the parking lot, I saw that the drive-thru line was piling into the street. Thinking it would save me time, I decided to actually get out of my car and go inside (this I normally oppose to as I generally like to limit human contact as much as possible). There was only one other person inside the Dunkin Donuts - an old man slowly nearing the counter. First, he ordered an ice tea "to go" with lemon and milk on the side. Many things puzzled me about this order: first, that he thought it necessary to specify that the beverage was "to go" as if there were more than one way to receive a drink at Dunkin Donuts. Second, that he wanted his milk on the side, which meant that the cashier had to give him two cups - one for the actual drink and one to hold the milk. Clearly, I immediately disapproved of this man, and my distaste for him steadily grew as he moved on to his second transaction. After he paid for his ice tea "to go," he asked the cashier to add $10 to his gift card. The boy behind the counter did so and handed the man a receipt to show the money had been added. The man glanced at the slip briefly and started arguing with the cashier that he did it wrong. So of course the boy had to go through step by step how he added the money to the guy's card, which, after minutes of negotiation, the man decided to accept. During this time, I questioned why the gift card was even necessary since the man never actually used it. People started lining up behind me as the man moved on to his third consecutive transaction. This time, he ordered a small coffee, paid for it (in cash), and then asked for the cashier to put it in a bag. He wanted his coffee in a fucking bag. I couldn't hold back my aggravation at this point and started complaning under my breath (under my breath actually means outloud so most people could hear but still passive-aggresively). After the cashier put the coffee in a bag, the man said "where's my blueberry muffin?" Um, you never ordered a fucking blueberry muffin! I screamed in my head along with, I'm sure, everyone else in the building. 15 minutes and four transactions later, the man finally packed up his things in multiple bags and moved on to a table. Again, I was puzzled since he had to emphasize about 490 times that he needed his ice tea "to go" and then opted to eat in.