Alexander

Last week, I had one of those terrible, horrible, no good, very bad days that come to us all. By lunch, I was starting to approach a level of upset where it might have been wise to call it a day. Instead, I foolishly went to the cafeteria for some food. I got a salad for me and a quesadilla for my brother. Seems harmless enough, right?

Would have been, but the guy behind the grill counter absolutely refused to put the rice and beans in the container with the quesadilla, and despite my repeated kind requests, told me he would get in trouble if he did what the customer wanted instead of following procedure and he plopped the rice and beans in two separate containers and then handed me all 3 containers to carry in addition to the one I already had with my salad in it.

This pushed me right over the precipice I was already precariously teetering on. When he asked if I had everything I wanted, I considered throwing the lids off the rice and beans, chucking the contents into the quesadilla container myself and hurling the superfluous and now empty containers back over the counter at him. But, thankfully, I didn’t. In an odd voice, I said, “No, I don’t have want I want, but, this will have to do.”

By the time I reached the yogurt machine, I was completely and utterly beyond any amount of rational thinking and actually was muttering to myself about stupid people and how I was so glad that the three container approach had been used instead of the customer service approach.

It was at this point, when a poor, innocent guy came up and told me that I was wrong to pick Pecan Praline as my favorite yogurt, because clearly Cable Car Chocolate is the best.

I thought, “Buddy, stop talking, please.” I said (still in the odd voice), “Oh, I’m sure you’re right, but I don’t eat chocolate.” And, his very unfortunate response was, “What?! How can a girl not eat chocolate?!!”

Face getting red. Steam coming out of head. Spikey boots preparing to kick shin.

As I started trying to pick up my 300 food containers and turned to say who knows what regrettable statement to this guy; my brother, who had been planning to meet me in my office, miraculously appeared next to me and gathered up the containers with a big shovel.

Oh, thank goodness. I don’t have to move to Australia now (not that I’d mind that too terribly much).

I don’t think I’ll ask for rice and beans with quesadillas anymore.