Two great stories for a busy weekend…
Rick and I spent this past Saturday running around with our rented iGo car to take care of a few condo gardening needs. Since finishing the back patio this past summer, we never had the opportunity to get some of the plants that Rick wanted to add to enhance the ambiance. When our neighbors told us of the screaming discounts at the Fertile Garden center on Diversey, Rick decided we couldn’t wait any longer, talked to our condo neighbors, and got approval for some plants.
The Fertile Garden had some great deals for certain. While Rick explored and chose just the right hydrangeas for the back yard (“I’m thinking all white flowers to brighten it up,” he trilled, while I just looked around and said “yeah okay, whatever”), I had my fun and picked out two wonderfully pumpkins for Halloween. All told, the plants ranged from 30 to 70% off, and we saved a total of 60% on our yard. It was a great deal.
After a brief stop for food at the Art of Pizza on Ashland (so good!), we decided to venture to Trader Joe’s for some quick groceries for dinner. We had the car, we never had been, so why not?
We entered the store, and within seconds I had flashbacks to retail holiday havoc. The place was a mob scene. No discernible rhyme or reason to the traffic patterns of the place. What made it a tad more challenging was that Rick, having his eyes dialated earlier in the day, still had to wear sunglasses. It’s not like he was blind, he just was sensitive to the light still.
But what turned me so sour was the pushing, shoving and careless passing of fellow shoppers. We tried to manuever and weave, and I think I said excuse me at least 5 times in 2 minutes. But we had barely picked up lemons and strawberries when a young woman charged past Rick, even as he tried to back out of the way, and she only could snark out a terse ‘Pardon me’ with the complete sincerity of Bill O’Riley. Rick and I glanced at each other, and he immediately picked the two items in our basket back out and tossed them onto the vegetable gondola. ‘Forget the rest of this, I just want to check for one thing,’ he commented, quite frazzled.
He navigated himself around to the next aisle, to where a beleaguered clerk was shelving a item. Rick asked politely if they had the item (some dark Belgian chocolate) he was looking for, only to have a snappish reply: “we only carry that at Christmas.” With that, Rick turned to me, and announced, “and NOW we can get the hell out of here!”
After nearly being run over two more times and swearing I just saw a Viking woman (complete with Helga’s horns and braided hair) and her elf friend in the checkout line, I barely emerged from the exit doors only to be knocked over a final time by a mother and her three children, who were all clambering and screeching for attention. I couldn’t even look back at the place, as if it were Sodom and Gomorrah (ironic, right?), and disgustedly blurted in full earshot of the family and several other patrons, “I will NEVER go into that place again! That was the worst bunch of assholes ever!” Classy, right? I was aggravated, and disappointed. I had heard so much about this place, but this visit left the taste of bile on my tongue.
What surprised me was Rick, who is normally very even keel. He nodded, and shook his head in disdain. “Saturday afternoon does not entitle people to be complete ignorant jerks. Terrible, terrible idea.” And with that, we hopped in the car and sped away, wishing for the place to burn down so we could salt the earth and never let it rise again.
Granted, a Saturday probably isn’t the best time to go into a grocery store. That being said, the next stop, at our local Dominicks, was less traumatic. We were in and out in moments. No muss, no fuss. That’s the way a shopping experience should go!
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The next morning, however, was a tale for the ages. We were hosting brunch at our place for my friends Rick M, Peter, Brian and Bennett, and of course the coffee maker is on the fritz. Solution A was Rick trying an ad hoc version of campfire coffee. Uh, no. So back to the Dominicks I went so i could stop at the in store Starbucks and get a traveler of coffee.
The scene couldn’t have unfolded better than it did. I stood in line patiently, and this erratic Gaysian huffed and puffed at the waiting window as the barista asked him several questions to ensure his satisfaction. As the server handed up his two orders, the outburst was immediate:” I told you, I wanted a VANILLA BEAN LATTE, not this frozen shit!!”
The barista quickly yet politely replied back, ‘Sir, I clarified if you wanted it with coffee, or not, and with whipped cream or not, and you said no coffee and with…”
“NO I DID NOT! CAN’T YOU PEOPLE GET THIS FUCKING ORDER RIGHT?? I’M HERE EVERY DAY!” he screeched. It was like watching Glenn Beck throwing one of his classic and infantile bigoted temper tantrums.
“Sir, please calm down..”
“I DON’T LIKE THAT ATTITUDE! WHERE’S THE MANAGER? YOUR ATTITUDE SUCKS! THIS IS THE WORST STARBUCKS EVER!”
“Sir, calm down, or do I need to call security…”
“SCREW THIS WHERE IS THE MANAGER?” And with that, the high strung queen threw the frappuccino to the ground, splattering it all over the floor.
The barista and he coworker were visibly shaken, but managed to keep on trying to serve us why having to go and clean up the splattered slushy on the floor (since a call for clean up went unheeded). I politely placed my order, and the barista went to get the travel box for my coffee. When she came back, she sighed aloud to her colleague, “and now he’s over at customer service complaining about me. He did this to a cashier last week. This has got to end!”
As she started to fill my order, I stepped away and walked over to the customer service counter, where Pinocchio was fibbing up a storm. “She was just so rude, and knocked my drink over, and the attitude she copped was disgusting, blah blah blah,” (s)he practically sobbed. The manager stood and nodded in understanding, and then out of the corner of his eye caught me standing there, and turned his full attention on me.
I was not about to let this psycho ruin some nice employees’ job with his/her irrationality. “Um, yeah, that’s not what happened. The barista was very polite and handled herself well. This one” – I pointed at the befuddled bitch- “This one not only lost control, but threw his drink on the floor and caused a terrible scene. He was rude and completely unnecessary.”
Stunned at first, then narrowing her eyes at me with a hateful glare, Gaysian girl snapped defensively, “No, I was throwing it out…”
I cut her off. “Yeah, trashcan was here” – I pointed to my left- “and the drink was over here” – and I swung my hand to my far right. “No way you were aiming for the can.” I turned my attention back to the manager, who had a look in his eye that said he was getting the real picture now. “All I’m saying is that your associate was polite and tried to be nice, and this one was a complete nut job.” And with that, I walked away.
I walked back to Starbucks, left my name and number with the very grateful barista in case the manager had any more questions about what I witnessed, took my coffee and went home. Arggh, the nerve of that bitch treating the Starbucks girl so rudely! I wanted to slap her silly! But I took the high road, stood up for my fellow customer service agent, and did a good deed for the day.
Rants of The Misanthrope and other musings 