I have struggled to support Anna's Taqueria, a local burrito joint with six locations in Metro Boston, for several years, now.  I say "struggled" because it hasn't always been easy.  While the menu is affordable, they don't take debit or credit, and I am not about to make a special trip to the ATM for a burrito.  On the other hand, whenever I've got a little brass in pocket, I'll make a detour to Anna's. 

But today I decided: no more. Never again. We're finished.



Don't get me wrong, their burritos aren't bad, but they'd be a lot better without that heaping helping of hatin' they throw in with 'em.  I prefer my burritos with beans not bile.  I don't know if it's a macho thing, or what, but the guys behind the counter — the one thing you can definitely count on from them is contempt.  All I can say is I'm glad they make the food right there in front of you, because God knows what kind of special sauce you'd get in there if they didn't.

I have seen them smile — at each other.  And laugh — at customers.  But never vice-versa.  They usually start off with a glare, and then whatever you order, they look at you like you've just said something unbelievably stupid.  I've had them roll their eyes, curl their lips, and shake their heads in undisguised disgust.

I've actually seen two of them gang up on a customer — a Tufts student I think he was — berating him for calling pico de gallo "salsa", almost bringing the poor kid to tears.  They often mutter to one another in Spanish about customers who annoy them.  And by the way, amigos: I know what “una puta flaca mala” means.

I've tried to tamp down my umbrage at such behavior with a little white guilt.  I know these young machos would rather be out carousing or at the cockfights than working ten-hour shifts in a burrito joint serving Tufts students and teacherly types like me. This line of thinking has allowed me to continue patronizing Anna's even when I leave the restaurant feeling like I've been kicked in the balls, they've been so rude to me.

I have also considered, through the years, that I'm being too sensitive, and asking too much of my local burrito joint.  Which is why it's taken me this long to make this public declaration.  But the fact is, while I know people who get bad service across the board, I don't.  Yes, occasionally, I'll get a snarky waiter or a deadpan convenience store clerk, but it's the exception, not the rule.

And being a confirmed bachelor I eat out a lot, and I eat local a lot, too, and even if the usually foreign-born proprietors of these little joints bristle at first, eventually, if you stick with it, they stop eyeing you with suspicion, and treat you with some semblance of kindness.  In fact, once you've been around long enough to qualify as a regular, you're almost family.

Take Sessa's, a little Italian grocer with a deli counter on the other end of the square.  There's always a lively conversation going on when you enter.   If it's your first time, all talk stops as everyone turns to glare at you, and then quickly resumes as they feign ignoring you. 

When you're ready to order or be rung up, if they don't recognize you, they treat you like your grandfather did something so terrible to their grandfather that they can't find any words to express the hatred in their heart of hearts for you, your ancestors, and your descendants.  There's a stony silence.  No one speaks again until you leave.

But if you go back once or twice a week, for six months to a year, maybe two, at some point they'll say something about the weather — like "a nice-ah weathah" — to let you know that they appreciate your business.  Eventually they may try to marry off a daughter to you. 

There are a couple of Greek places in the South End I have lunch at pretty regularly, and they eyed me suspiciously for almost a year, too.  But now I get extra portions (whether I want them or not) and every sentence ends with "my friend!" 

I don't need that kind of love everywhere I go, I just don't need the hate.  I don't know what it is about Anna's, but I always leave thinking, "what did I do wrong?"  I mean, am I such a monster for wanting to buy a burrito?  And then, inevitably, the next question is: "how can I do better in the future?"  How can I be a better customer to Anna's?  Can I learn how to order better, so that I won't annoy them with silly requests like "light on the sauce"?  Can I learn how to smile submissively, but not too much? — I don't want them to think I'm happy, just that I want to please them.

I feel like I'm in a codependent, abusive relationship with a passive-aggressive Latin Macho.  And, trust me, any one of these guys would be right at home in a wife-beater, calling you a bitch and berating you for giving bad head, like they could do it better themselves.  Why do we stay with them, girls?  Why do we let them do it?  For a lousy carnitas burrito?

No.  No more.  It's over between Anna's and me.

Oh, and, uh, by the way, Anna's: I've been doin' Taco Loco, and their burritos are bigger.  Way bigger.