[ WP ] A man never says thank you—instead he always offers his own “ constructive criticism ” . He thinks he is being helpful , making the world better , but his “ tips ” are rarely enjoyed by their recipients . What happens to him…

The woman smiled as she held the door open for him. Stepping inside, he gave a small nod and said, “ I appreciate you holding the door, but you could step a little further back, it ’ s difficult to get through with my briefcase. ” 
 
 
 “ You don ’ t have a briefcase. ” She replied, confused. 
 
 
 “ Ah, but I could have. Don ’ t be upset, I just wanted to let you know for future reference. ” He smiled politely. 
 
 
 The woman ’ s brow furrowed and she pushed past him, muttering under her breath. He turned towards the counter, feeling slighted. People never understood that he commented for their own good. What if he had been carrying a briefcase? She would have been knocked on the leg – he was doing it out of concern for her, really. Who wants bruised knees? 
 
 
 The man at the counter looked up. 
 
 
 “ I ’ ll have a large white coffee, please. And one of those white chocolate and nut cookies. ” 
 
 
 The man smiled and nodded, “ Coming right up. ” 
 
 
 He walked down the counter towards the pick-up section, humming quietly to himself as he looked around the café. The chairs needed reupholstering, the tables could be cleaner and bigger windows would let in more light. It was his favourite place. 
 
 
 “ One white coffee and a white choc nut cookie. ” Said the perky sounding blonde from the behind the counter. He raised his hand and walked forward. 
 
 
 “ Great, you know, you didn ’ t have to give me a plate for the cookie, ” he smiled, “ I could have had it on a napkin just fine. ” 
 
 
 “ Oh, I ’ m sorry sir, it ’ s company policy… would you prefer it on a napkin? ” Perky Blonde continued to smile at him. 
 
 
 “ No, no, no, not at all. It ’ s just a good idea to ask. People are mindful of the environment, they may not appreciate you having to waste water washing an unnecessary plate. I love having it on a plate though, myself. I think it gives a sense of occasion… some people may not… that ’ s all I ’ m saying. ” 
 
 
 Perky Blondes ’ smile had become rather fixed, he noticed. He nodded at her and sat down by the small window with a sigh. Some people were into recycling, businesses have a responsibility these days. They should be promoting the ‘ greener ’ way. Surely it was better for him to point it out than some long-haired hippy with body odour. He was trying to help. Sighing again, he took a sip of his coffee ( which tasted great, but could perhaps do with a little less milk ) and looked out the window. 
 
 
 Perky Blonde watched him from behind the counter. She hated this guy. Every day, in he came with his ‘ tips ’ that really weren ’ t the kid of tips she wanted, and he managed to piss her off. Some of the workers had tried writing them down, to try and reduce the number of things he commented on, but he always seemed to have more. Like the time he ‘ advised ’ her not to begin making his order until she ’ d doubled-checked it, in case he changed his mind. He never changed his mind. Every morning 8.15am - one white coffee and a white choc nut cookie, but heaven forbid she start preparing it as she saw him crossing the road outside. She almost told him it was to minimise the actual contact she had with him, but she needed this job. She idly wiped the counter, nodding at her colleague as he slipped out for a cigarette. 
 
 
 She watched him take a bite of his cookie and take another thoughtful look out of the window. Probably thinking about how we could improve the recipe, she mused. He ’ d think of something, she was sure. There was always something. 
 
 
 Suddenly, he coughed loudly and his hands flew to his throat as he jumped up from his chair. His panicked eyes darted around the room. She stood behind the counter, watching as he choked. His face got redder and redder as he gasped for air, his desperate hands scratched at his neck, leaving great red marks from his chin to his chest. His face was purple now, he had fallen to his knees. 
 
 
 Shaking herself, she rushed forward. She didn ’ t know what to do so she punched him hard between the shoulders. Once, twice, three times she struck him. He fell to all fours, his loud rasping breaths filling the café. A sudden retching noise, followed by a moist deposit on the floor told her that he would be ok. He rolled onto his back, taking in huge gulps of air. She stood over him, watching his face return to a normal colour and his eyes slide back into focus. He looked at her standing above him and opened his mouth to say something, but she spoke before he had a chance. 
 
 
 “ I could have moved faster. ” She said, a slight smile on her face as she straightened up and walked back towards the counter. 

