I thought you guys should know. I reordered a specialty coffee drink yesterday.
I got the first one.
It tasted heavily of ashes and chocolate water slightly mixed with a hint of mint.
I considered my unassertive options. I actually didn’t sample the brewed poison until I had vacated the vendor’s premises.
I realized I couldn’t afford two mid-priced luxury beverages in one day.
So I marched (more like tippytoed) back to the esteemed cafe, and I was all halfheartedly (as if it were out of my hands), “Something doesn’t taste right!” and they were all “We’re sorry! We’re sorry!” And then I was all “Not as sorry as I am!”
Then I tried to change my drink order to something simpler, but the owner insisted that the barista remake my original drink. Which I then tasted in front of the whole staff, beaming, thrilled at how impossibly good it was…(and the Oscar weiner for Best Supporting Overactress, in a Tragicomedy, goes to…)
But hey, standing up for myself without having to make jokes about it, wasn’t the end of me. I mean, I guess it was half bad, but it was half alright too. Insert witty half & half line here, and tie it in with coffee reference.
This is going to be me in a year. Block and punch, but verbally!
photo courtesy of Flickr and cheetah100
Today, continuing my aggressive streak, I almost took out a manchild on crutches.
Fittingly, he commented, “So sorry about that!”
Because he’s the one who was clearly an imposition on the door I flung open all wild and crazylike. Riiight.