To the throngs of pre-pubescent teenagers and absolutely oblivious masses that visit my beloved doughnut shop: Please die. I love your doughnuts so much, I really do. But I can’t sit through the 30 minute hell I encounter every time I walk through your doors for 2 meager morsels. The fact that I'm somehow caught in between a gaggle of pimply faced middleschoolers giggling about a penis shaped doughnut and some stupefied family from Arkansas who have obviously never encountered either a menu or mild variation is a sort of torture that must violate some unwritten law of human conduct. I understand the novelty nature of the establishment, but to occupy the shop like some fanatical Nazi resistance group ordered to hold until death for a glob of refined flower and powered sugar somehow seems a bit much. I come at obscure times: 11:25am, 1:45pm, even the seemingly noticed 5:45pm and I’m persistently driven away by a tenacious occupant. Please understand the plight of the casual consumer and install two lines: one labeled “I know exactly what I want”; and the other “I have no fucking clue, just give me the voodoo dozen”. This will greatly increase both productivity and my chances to give you money. It has been three weeks, I’ve come about five times, and I’ve not yet had a plain doughnut with chocolate. Really, is that too much to ask?
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