I woke up this morning at 6:43 a.m., my head ringing with the ghost of the 12-pack of Miller Lite I eviscerated only five hours prior and my heart filled with a visceral sense of dread that only comes with Sunday morning scaries. I sought to nurse my hang over with the only remedy I knew: caffeine.

Unfortunately, my options were limited. My Keurig broke last week, so I couldn’t make coffee at home. Getting down from my car to order at Highland Coffees or Cherrybomb Coffee Co. seemed to me a fate worse than death. I’ve already shared my thoughts on Starbucks in a separate column.

Reluctantly, I hopped in my Ford Ranger and mosied over to 7 Brew. That was a mistake.

Anyone who doesn’t treat fast food drive-thrus like an Oprah interview should understand why. After ordering my beverage, I was assaulted with a bevy of questions totally unrelated to my cappuccino.

Here’s a rough transcript:

Employee: So, any big plans for today?

Me, politely: No, not really.

Employee: Oh, that’s so real. Just keeping it simple, huh? I’ve been on shift since 6, but after that I’m going to go home and decorate for Christmas. I need to take down my Thanksgiving stuff, but my apartment looks so empty without it… Anyway, any Christmas plans?

Me, wondering how my Christmas plans are any of her business: No, not really.

Employee: Ok, fair [pauses for ten seconds]. So what’s your major?

Me, wondering if the secret ingredient in “Santa’s Cookie” is cocaine: [sigh] Philosophy.

Employee: Oh my gosh, philosophy is so interesting. I wish I could major in philosophy [maniacal laughter]. What’s your favorite philosophy? Mine’s Last-Thursdayism.

Me, wondering if this employee’s reaction to my academic calendar broke the sound barrier: That’s crazy.

I’ll spare you the pain of reading any more of this encounter.

Luckily, I only had to wait about two minutes for my drink (folks work fast when they’re hopped up on cocaine… take notes Jeff Bezos). Unluckily, those were the longest two minutes of my life. As I turned right onto Burbank, I considered steering my truck into oncoming traffic.

Frankly, the only thing that prevented me from endangering the lives of my fellow drivers was the taste of my cappuccino. And that’s the most tragic thing about 7 Brew: the coffee is so good, but the customer service is insufferable.

I know that I’m not alone.

While Gallup and Pew have yet to conduct surveys that ask respondents how they feel about 7 Brew employees, several of my friends have supplemented my horror story with horror stories of their own. There seems to be a common trend: 7 Brew employees love talking — loudly, at any time of day and regardless of whether the customer responds enthusiastically.

If any 7 Brew employees are literate enough to read this article, I have one message: calm down, please.

Also, if any of you were thinking of commenting about workplace training and the evils of capitalism, save your breath. I get it. I’m sure that 7 Brew tells their employees to be over-the-top and borderline manic to boost business.

I don’t care.

Whether 7 Brew rank-and-files are to blame for my lingering hangover or whether it’s their corporate overlords, I’m still upset.

For those of you who blame corporate overlords, though, I’d like to use this rant as an opportunity to comment on a disturbing trend in mega-chain customer service. CEOs are obsessed with manufacturing the ideal employee — people who like where they work, care about their customers and seem fun to be around.

The problem with this drive for aesthetic perfection is that it rests on a fundamental contradiction: the combination of wage labor and ultra-fast, socially draining customer interaction makes genuine fun near-unattainable for employees.

That’s why 7 Brew employees seem so cringey. Forcing employees to go off-script ensures that they come across as inauthentic — and sometimes really annoying, if I haven’t already conveyed that clearly enough.

I really want to like 7 Brew. I want to drink their coffee: it’s fairly cheap, it tastes good and it’s a drive-thru. It has so much potential. So even though I’m currently feeling bitter, spiteful and scorned, I would like to imbue this message with a sentiment of care and congeniality.

Maybe 7 Brew’s Burbank managers would benefit from walking across the street to Chick-fil-A. There’s an example of corporate oppression done right: they have a fun script, they work quickly and they don’t ask any questions unrelated to your order.

In the meantime, though, I’ll be pooling my spare change into a Keurig fund. I’ll brave the Sunday scaries from the comfort of my own home.

Cade Savoy is a 21-year-old political science and philosophy major from Breaux Bridge, La.