Cookies & Petrified Guests

So I have to make cookies every day at the inn. I don't make the batter, which I think is lame, but I scoop them from a big tub we buy at Sam's Club. The key to making the good ones is how long you cook them, whether they will turn out soft and chewy or crispy. I had one of a group of women who suck tell me that I should add more flour to the batter to give them more structure. I didn't even want to admit I scoop them from a tub. Anyway, she's one of those people who really annoy me by asking me if she can ask me a question, before actually asking the real question, every time she has a question. When people check in I always tell them that the cookies are for everybody and they're there until they're gone. Well, I got a call from somebody at 5.50 pm (when I go off duty in an hour) telling me that there were no more cookies. Of course while I wanted to tell them to fuck off, I realized I'd rather bake more cookies than have a crisis any day, so I made more cookies.

Another woman from the same party as above also told me she was severely afraid of my dog today. She also asked me why people get pitbulls and basically went over every stupid pitbull stereotype there was. I replied that I had gotten Pig from a shelter, after someone else tied her a mailbox and left her there for the ASPCA to find. I then added that any dog can be turned into the vicious dogs that newspapers are always reporting about that bite small children and turn on their owners. If you raise a dog to be fearful of people, to fight with other dogs, whatever, it will respond. If you train it to be a gentle dog, they also usually respond. This woman was obviously not a dog person, and had no clue what owning a dog that's not a fucking chia pet sized animal is like. I hate it when guests talk to me like I'm fucking crazy for owning a pitbull. I don't let her out without a leash, she doesn't live in the inn, and no one meets her who doesn't ask to meet her. I respect when people don't want to meet her, but they never seem to respect me when I don't think it's a good idea, like around kids for example. She's a rambunctious puppy herself, and I don't trust children to remain calm instead of freaking out and running around, egging the dog on. The most frustrating part of this is that guests think because they're staying in my house they have access to my person. It's things as little as commenting on my smoking habit, (always outside, never on a first meeting, etc) to questioning my life choices. None of them seem to understand that I might have very good reasons for the things I do, ways I feel, policies I follow, (and yet I'm not supposed to judge them about things they ask for, disgusting messes they leave in the rooms, stupid things they say to others, etc). For instance, they don't accept that I don't want to take over the business when el momm-o retires. I don't feel like I should have to back up why I don't want the inn, but they always want to know more. I need to make up a good lie. Like I'm engaged to a Nigerian multi-millionaire murderer who is getting out of jail in April and then we're off to Majorca to get married and live happily ever after. Where the fuck is Majorca anyway?