I have had a really lousy couple of weeks.
Two weeks ago my wife and I were all set to make a run to Vegas. We had planned on seeing a show visiting some friends and getting out of town for a few days. We had planned to leave on Thursday evening, so Wednesday night I got to experience the joy of kidney stones; again. The week of the Hollister rally we were supposed to go and see my eldest granddaughter graduate from Air force boot camp in San Antonio, Texas. We were set to leave early Wednesday so Tuesday I wrenched my back and caused a disc to bulge out and pinch a nerve. I made the decision to send my wife to meet our son in San Antonio. Since I couldn’t drive I ordered a car service to take her to the airport. At least that part went well. Her flight turned in to a nightmare, her non-stop to San Antonio suddenly included a two hour layover in Salt Lake. Thunderstorms caused the flight to divert to Arlington. She finally made to the Hotel fourteen hours after I consigned her to the car service.
I got to the Chiro the next day and got some relief but spent five days either horizontal or reclined.
So you’ll understand I might have lost my cherub like demeanor, to wit; my ability to tolerate idiots. Add to that the fact that it was very hot today, and disaster is not far off.
This having been said; I was out and about and decided to try the local Quizno’s sandwich shop, about which I had heard wondrous things.
At this point I’d like to digress just enough to tell you that I speak quite decent English and rightly so. After all I learned it from the people who invented the bloody language.
Having entered the shop I found just one other patron ahead of me. I thought “well, this won’t take but a bit”. Alas however, it was not to be. I could tell the gentleman ahead of me was agitated but I didn’t know why.
When it was my turn, having studied the menu carefully I told the nineteen year old or so mouth breather behind the counter exactly what I wanted. The first time I may have spoken to quickly, so I gave him the benefit of the doubt. It became apparent during the second and third iterations that English was not his first language. I would point out at this point that he appeared to be a Caucasian American based on his entreaties to his coworkers in the back room &@$#$# hurry up. I suspect English came third behind “Venusian” and “Dude”.
Eventually as a continuous drip of water will wear away stone my order was taken. I turned to face the five people who had filed in after me. “I hope you’re not in a hurry I proffered” the lady returned a tight smile but said nothing.
“Is it usually like this I asked?” “It is on Fridays when Tommy’s here” the man behind the lady with tight smile replied. I turned back to see Tommy as I know knew him fiddling with a small stack of twenty dollar bills. Although I found this annoying I know the reason, he had reached the threshold amount for a drop, and after completing his drop and wiping his runny nose with his hand he began to make my sandwich. I commanded him to stop. “You need to wash your hands before you do that” His response was not the contrite “Oops I forgot” it was “Why” I informed him that currency is the filthiest most germ laden item that one can touch. I also pointed out the bit about wiping his nose. His defense was “I used the back of my hand”
At this point I told him to cancel my order, and that I will get my sandwich at a nice little deli I know and where it was located for the benefit of the other patrons present.
Again our friend Tommy inquired “Why!” this time with alarm.
At this point my attempts at maintaining a diplomatic comportment were taxed beyond their limits.
“Because” I replied, “You are obviously entirely too stupid to be allowed anywhere near food stuffs or cutlery. And frankly Tommy, I’m amazed you haven’t drowned in the sink since you don’t seem to know what it’s for”.
As I turned to go, only the lady with the tight smile remained. I told her “I suppose everyone else is trying to beat me to the deli” She replied “I don’t have a car today and I work across the street”. I told here I would gladly bring her back something from the deli or give her a ride since I had to pass her office on the way back to my shop. After a few more words I had her order written down and the tight smile turned to one of the gracious beaming type.
On the way out the door I encountered the man who had identified Tommy. I said “I thought you’d be halfway to the deli by now”. “I would be” he replied. “But I was supposed to meet someone here; As soon as he shows up I’m gone”. He added, “Man I wish I had the balls to do that”. I told him that I wished I had the patience to deal with Tommy in a more civil fashion. “Still, he is breathing yet, albeit from his mouth.
Thank you all for your forbearance during this cathartic rant.
Two weeks ago my wife and I were all set to make a run to Vegas. We had planned on seeing a show visiting some friends and getting out of town for a few days. We had planned to leave on Thursday evening, so Wednesday night I got to experience the joy of kidney stones; again. The week of the Hollister rally we were supposed to go and see my eldest granddaughter graduate from Air force boot camp in San Antonio, Texas. We were set to leave early Wednesday so Tuesday I wrenched my back and caused a disc to bulge out and pinch a nerve. I made the decision to send my wife to meet our son in San Antonio. Since I couldn’t drive I ordered a car service to take her to the airport. At least that part went well. Her flight turned in to a nightmare, her non-stop to San Antonio suddenly included a two hour layover in Salt Lake. Thunderstorms caused the flight to divert to Arlington. She finally made to the Hotel fourteen hours after I consigned her to the car service.
I got to the Chiro the next day and got some relief but spent five days either horizontal or reclined.
So you’ll understand I might have lost my cherub like demeanor, to wit; my ability to tolerate idiots. Add to that the fact that it was very hot today, and disaster is not far off.
This having been said; I was out and about and decided to try the local Quizno’s sandwich shop, about which I had heard wondrous things.
At this point I’d like to digress just enough to tell you that I speak quite decent English and rightly so. After all I learned it from the people who invented the bloody language.
Having entered the shop I found just one other patron ahead of me. I thought “well, this won’t take but a bit”. Alas however, it was not to be. I could tell the gentleman ahead of me was agitated but I didn’t know why.
When it was my turn, having studied the menu carefully I told the nineteen year old or so mouth breather behind the counter exactly what I wanted. The first time I may have spoken to quickly, so I gave him the benefit of the doubt. It became apparent during the second and third iterations that English was not his first language. I would point out at this point that he appeared to be a Caucasian American based on his entreaties to his coworkers in the back room &@$#$# hurry up. I suspect English came third behind “Venusian” and “Dude”.
Eventually as a continuous drip of water will wear away stone my order was taken. I turned to face the five people who had filed in after me. “I hope you’re not in a hurry I proffered” the lady returned a tight smile but said nothing.
“Is it usually like this I asked?” “It is on Fridays when Tommy’s here” the man behind the lady with tight smile replied. I turned back to see Tommy as I know knew him fiddling with a small stack of twenty dollar bills. Although I found this annoying I know the reason, he had reached the threshold amount for a drop, and after completing his drop and wiping his runny nose with his hand he began to make my sandwich. I commanded him to stop. “You need to wash your hands before you do that” His response was not the contrite “Oops I forgot” it was “Why” I informed him that currency is the filthiest most germ laden item that one can touch. I also pointed out the bit about wiping his nose. His defense was “I used the back of my hand”
At this point I told him to cancel my order, and that I will get my sandwich at a nice little deli I know and where it was located for the benefit of the other patrons present.
Again our friend Tommy inquired “Why!” this time with alarm.
At this point my attempts at maintaining a diplomatic comportment were taxed beyond their limits.
“Because” I replied, “You are obviously entirely too stupid to be allowed anywhere near food stuffs or cutlery. And frankly Tommy, I’m amazed you haven’t drowned in the sink since you don’t seem to know what it’s for”.
As I turned to go, only the lady with the tight smile remained. I told her “I suppose everyone else is trying to beat me to the deli” She replied “I don’t have a car today and I work across the street”. I told here I would gladly bring her back something from the deli or give her a ride since I had to pass her office on the way back to my shop. After a few more words I had her order written down and the tight smile turned to one of the gracious beaming type.
On the way out the door I encountered the man who had identified Tommy. I said “I thought you’d be halfway to the deli by now”. “I would be” he replied. “But I was supposed to meet someone here; As soon as he shows up I’m gone”. He added, “Man I wish I had the balls to do that”. I told him that I wished I had the patience to deal with Tommy in a more civil fashion. “Still, he is breathing yet, albeit from his mouth.
Thank you all for your forbearance during this cathartic rant.
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