Just stop it.

A few inane things from the past week or so:
-This morning, a balding man holding his hat in his hands in front of him. It was a beret or a working cap or whatever, and it made him look like he'd come in to tell me he was awful sorry he'd run over my dog.
-A fairly nice customer in every other way but... snorts his phlegm at the counter every morning. So of course after writing that sentence he comes in and gives occasion to observe. He'll do it after saying something to me, like "...and a croissant *SNORT*" So people clear their throats all the time & I don't take a second notice, but if you must expectorate, I'd appreciate if it would occur in the privacy of your own home. Even in the bathroom - there was this guy in Hillsborough who would hock one up every morning, so loud you could hear it through the store - it's just gross.
-Just now, a guy walking down the sidewalk with a bike tire. Strange, though not as strange as the old black dude cruisin' down Markham with some fine shades and a killer smile... on an electric wheelchair. There's a sidewalk, sure, but I suppose it is a motor vehicle. I believe he makes the trip pretty often, and I wonder how well that battery holds out for these sojourns.
-A young couple, the guy hunches a bit at the counter to sign a receipt or whatever & his girlfriend discretely begins humping him from behind. Hilarity.

And the big one, where I won't be using any names, just happened last week.
Customer: Americano.
This is a customer I've seen many times before. He's always gotten an americano but not always in the same size. Often times people come in looking sour - I imagine they're in need of caffeine - but he was working a mean scowl.
Me: A double? ...Large, medium?
Cust: Medium.
Me: Anything else this morning? ...$1.99.
Cust: What are you always fucking smiling about?
Me: Uh... I'm sorry?
Cust: Why are you always fucking smiling?
Me: [Thinking he might be taking the piss] To hide the deep sadness within.
Cust: What?
Me: [A bit more dramatically] To hide the deep sadness within.
Cust: Just make the coffee.
Me: Uh... well I'm sorry you feel that way.
Cust: I can't even come in here anymore because of you.
Me: And why is that?
Cust: You're just so... smarmy.
Me: Alright...
As I finished the drink I thought about the chances I had to turn this around, all the sinister things I could say. After all, it's not often one is openly insulted first thing in the morning... without provocation. I decided quickly that none of that was worth it, and he works nearby anyway. I don't know what he's saying to other people about me, but I certainly don't need to give him ammunition.
Me: [Without sarcasm, if you can believe it] Your americano. Have a good one!
Cust: Just stop it, [my name].