Last Friday was Friday the 13th. I had a really crappy day. First, I was working at one of our suburban locations. I won't name the suburb, but it's not my favorite place to be. However, the days problems didn't start until lunchtime. You see, I go home at lunch Monday through Thursday to be with the coonhound. Friday is my one day to have a nice, relaxing lunch period. I normally prefer to spend it at the fancy hotel restaurant that's a block away from my office, but on Friday the 13th, I wasn't at my normal office so I was forced into the fast food chain hell of the suburbs.
My closest option was Chipotle. However, when I pulled into the parking lot I found that the line was out the door. Chipotle is good, but it's also a burrito. I won't wait more than 15 minutes for that shit. Has anyone else noticed that at lunchtime if you don't get to Chipotle at 11:57, you have to wait at least 20 minutes to order? So, I decided to make my way to the Macy's Marketplace. When I got to the Marketplace, there was only one person working the counter and five golden oldies in line ahead of me. Old people are the worst at a fast food restaurant. They take all the convenience out of it. What you're left with is a slow food restaurant. I had no patience for these old-timers and left after the second one in line started asking for samples of the Baked Potato soup. She wanted to know what it tasted like; I'll give you a hint blue hair, it tastes like potatoes and bacon in a creamy broth. (P.S. please assist me on my use of the semicolon).
By the time I left Macy's, it was 12:25 p.m. and I thought the line at Chipotle would have to be more manageable, so I drove back. This time I actually parked my car in the lot. As I was walking towards the door, two men with multiple neck tattoos and face piercings passed me on their way to their car. Right as they passed me, I noticed that the burrito line was still out the door. Infuriated, I stomped back to my car. As I angrily turned the key in the ignition and backed out of my space, I realized that the tattooed men were also backing out of their space a few cars away from me. However, we were backing out in opposite directions and so were facing each other with no room to move. Technically, I was the first person fully backed out, so I thought the appropriate thing for Tattoos to do was move his car and allow me to pass him. However, Tattoos was not a giving person and we had a parking lot standoff. I finally threw my hands up in the air and rolled my eyes while pulling back into my space. Yes, it was snotty, but I was hungry and annoyed.
What happened next shocked me. Tattoos drove behind my car and stopped, trapping me into my parking space. Then he got out of his car and screamed "What's your problem, stupid bitch." He didn't linger long, just kind of laughed and got back into his car.
My first reaction was to cry and call Mike. Upon later reflection I kept thinking how much I wanted to get out of my car and tell him off. I know a thing or two about being a bitch, and I was not being a bitch when I threw my hands in the air, rolled my eyes and pulled back into my parking space so that he could pass me. No sir, that isn't what bitches do.
The incident also reminded me of a valuable line in Tina Fey's Bossypants: “A coworker at SNL dropped an angry c-bomb on me and i had the weirdest reaction. To my surprise, I blurted, 'No. You don't get to call me that. My parents love me! I'm not some Adult Child of an Alcoholic that's going to take that shit.'" If only I had half the gumption of Tina Fey.
By the time I had calmed down, it was 12:45 p.m.. I was hungry and had to be back at work in 15 minutes. Mike suggested I go to the CVS right across the street. When I got there, the only things that looked good to me were Cheez-Its, Skittles and Sno-Caps. So, after 50 minutes of trying to get a lunch, the best I could come up with was empty calories. I'm hoping my next Friday the 13th isn't quite so terrible.