Thursday, October 26, 2006

Lunch can be an adventure.

I shouldn't be allowed to go to places outside of my bubble. I had to go and pick up lunch today for a couple co-workers and myself at this "new" place called Wheatfield's. And by "new" I mean that it's been around forever but I have never been there before because it's not in my freakin bubble of places that I usually go to.

I discovered today there are damn good reasons why I don't try new places...

I drive there and see the big Wheatfield's sign without any incident, and park in front of a sign that I later read as "
California Pizza Take Out Parking". Except all I read was "Take Out Parking" because it was the largest and boldest font on the sign. I parked there and looked up at an entry door in front of me that read "TAKE OUT" in large block letters.

So I went into that TAKE OUT entrance and up to the counter where some snot-nosed 15 year old boy with long hair (damn kids) was standing.

I said,
"I'm here to pick up a Take Out order for Jennifer or maybe it's under a different name."

The kid just stares at me and doesn't even look around for the order or paperwork, or whatever he's supposed to look for because that's his damn job. He says,
"What was in the order?"

I'm not even sure what my coworkers ordered or how much, so I say,
"I don't know. A veggie and some other crap. It should be under Jennifer or maybe (my coworkers' names)." At this point, I look down and see that the cash register says 'Welcome to California Pizza' and in my head I think, Hmm, that's really weird that they would combine Wheatfield's and California Pizza in one building. Okay, I must admit this is one of the dumbest things ever.

Snotty kid with girl hair:
"Uhm. We don't have that order." Still staring at me like I'm a moron, which I am.

Me, starting to get pissed because I assume he's just being a jerkface:
"Dude, my coworker called in this order an hour ago and said to have it ready at 11:15. You're not even looking for the order."

Snotty boy with hair prettier than mine:
"We haven't had any take out orders yet today at all."

Me, now realizing that I am a freakin moron:
"Oh. I think I'm in the wrong place."

The stupid damn kid who was right afterall says:
"Yeah. I think you are." in a really snotty voice.

So I leave quickly the way I came and look to my right and see that there is another entrance a ways down that says Wheatfield's in large letters above the door. I hang my head and walk over there. I go inside and it's super busy. Great. There are 4 billion signs everywhere but not one that says "Pick up" or "Take out" or anything like that. So I wait at a counter and thankfully it's the right one and she gives me my order.

My coworkers gave me a wad of cash and I had my own wad of cash in my wallet, but I hadn't counted it. I'd hate to just jam a wad of random cash at the lady, and pray that she counts it right, so I am trying hard to count it among all the noise of the place. Then she starts yapping about the soups or something and I'm like half-way through counting and I lose my place.

Mind you, this is not a lot of money, but I am completely retarded when it comes to money and counting and math in any form. Plus, I am still flustered about having made an ass out of myself next door at California Pizza. I mumble a reply to her soup-comment (which I didn't listen to at all) and then start counting again. I count it twice and each time come up with a different number. So I am panicking, thinking that my coworkers didn't give me enough money, and so I end up just handing her my debit card.

Meanwhile, she is watching me as I attempt to count my cash and then ultimately give up and dig in my purse for my debit card. I think she thinks that I'm just poor and don't have the right amount, but what she doesn't know is that I am really just stupid. (Hah, I fooled her!) She runs the card and then I turn around to leave, but because I didn't listen to what she said about the soups (because I was
trying to count), when I go to leave I check the bag for the soups and see that they are not there. I turn around and go back up to her and she says "I told you that the soups will be ready in just a minute, we needed to make sure they were nice and hot for you" in tone that one might call bitchy.

Well I'm sorry, I'm apparently one of those customers that is a complete moron, so just deal with it bitch. If you wanted to deal with smart people all day you should have become a rocket scientist instead of working at a restuarant where they let people like me wander around without sedation or an Socially-Retarded Idiot Translator (this is a job usually taken by one of my friends: "Jenny wants food. But she cannot count. She's not listening to you, she's trying to count. You must wait.")

So I hang my head again in utter shame while I wait for the soups to get done and then quickly leave, assuming that my harrowing adventure is now over.

But remember, I had originally parked in the wrong parking space... so I get out to my car and Mr. Pretty-Hair-Snotty-Boy is standing outside the California Pizza TAKE OUT door, right in front of my car.

It's like he was just
waiting for me to come back!

So I refuse to make eye contact, thinking he will just do his smirking thing and leave me the hell alone otherwise... but just as I am ducking into my car he says
"you know, that spot is for California Pizza customers only" in his best fakely-polite snot-nosed tone of voice.

Goddamn the youth of today. It was way funny when I did this type of thing at 15, but not so great having it done to me 7 years later.

Although I know I am usually quite easily embarrassed, I am certain that under different circumstances I would've had a much more clever reply than just
"Heh, yeah. Sorry about that. Heh."

Oh good god. Even the simple act of going to get lunch can be an adventure when you're as mentally challenged as I.

See, this is why I don't go to new places. I stay in my damn bubble.

My usual places already know I'm retarded and have accepted it and moved from 'disgust' to 'sympathy'. I come in the door at my usual places, and there is a sudden hush in the crowd, because they are all busy thinking
"Oh there is that sped girl again. I hope she doesn't fall on her face or snort or drop her entire veggie burger down her bra... again. Poor thing."

They understand me in my bubble.


nadine said...

Jenny, if you are dropping your burgers down your shirt and you loose your car in your shirt as well on account of the massive crevice that is your cleavage. Which consumes everything like a blackhole, maybe you should wear a turtleneck. Also will you please look for my house in there? It's getting cold and I would like it back. Thanks Jenny!

Jen said...

Don't be jealous, B-cup!!

nadine said...

Thats all you got? How about Mosquito Bite Nadine? How about girl with ant hills for boobs? All I got was B-cup? Jenny, where's the cleaver?

Jen said...

Nadine, you forgot to ask me how to spell "clever"...

nadine said...

Shut it b*tch.

tiffany said...

dude, i'm totally the soup bitch.

although, most of the time i do take pity on retarded people.

Reba said...

I am really good at math and was a bookkeeper for a few years, so I would have watched you count your money and told you the total. I sometimes do that now for friends and I think that really annoys em.

Oh and don't worry I get all flustered too in new places.

Bob said...

Wow...I totally can relate from both sides, having worked at a Starbucks and trying to order food in German (Or ANYTHING in German for that matter!)

But I wouldn't go so far to say that you are retarded. A little "special", maybe, but not a full-blown retarded.

Michelle said...

Jen, don't worry, I'm bad about going to new places too. The only difference between us is that I avoid those situations at all costs. I either make J do it or I just don't offer. I think I may have made a fool out of myself once and I made my mind up then that would NEVER happen again!

And, I would have had a few choice words for the snot-nosed punk from California Pizza. I would have said, "yeah, well tow me".

Anonymous said...

Thank goodness you don't fit into the commercial world so readily or else I might be embarassed to know you.

I'm no better at that kind of thing but sort of like those situations somehow in a warped kind of way. It's an opportunity to have some fun with those people, in a limited manner, since the normal rules of social politness are broken and I can pretend it's a rebellious, sociopathic, nonconformist streak. Be proud when you don't fit in. Tell pizza boy that you're impressed with his knowledge of California pizza and know that it will come in handy ten years from now when he's assistant manager here. Stare off into space for about thirty seconds and then calmly explain to counter girl again that you ordered soup and there isn't any as if you didn't hear her. Or maybe at least consider doing that, decide you wouldn't intentionally produce the humiliation you allow yourself to feel, and let that be a victory in itself.

~a mysterious wandering priest