The dour damsel’s depressing day

I was woken up a perky pre-recorded telemarketer loudly extolling how “2016 is THE year to SAVE on auto insurance” (though how I save on something I don’t have for a product I don’t own was never explained in her script), and while I was up I thought maybe I go grocery shopping but then I made the mistake of signing into FB and found myself wondering: “why do people READ my messages, but never actually answer them?” That cascades into a thousand other thoughts until I’m too depressed to go anywhere.

Suddenly, I’m reliving being dragged back into the college bookstore by the ears (yes, literally) by a pissed off manager who was determined to “make an example of me” in front of the whole damned campus what happens to kids who “steal” from HER store even though I clearly had a receipt – and a cashier who admitted to checking me out, but somehow failed to deactivate the hidden tag inside the book… even though I saw her rub it vigorously over the counter scanner several times. At least she didn’t pull a gun on me like the security guard at the CVS across the street…

Yeah, that was ten years ago, and as you can see from this blog: life really does “get better” …for some people, good thing I’m not a “person.”

Well, damn, I’m hungry and my fridge is STILL empty so I guess I have no choice now… but, naturally, just as I’m leaving the apt the phone rings.

“Hi, this is Dr. Dowling’s office, can I speak to ‘Jonathan?”

“Yes,” I said, and I knew exactly why she was calling. I’ve been trying to forget about this ‘double root canal’ for over two months now, but then she throws me off by not answering me. “…So are you going to ‘speak to me’ or not?”

“Oh no, ma’am, I’m waiting for you to get him for me.” She then pauses and continued with obvious skepticism, “unless you’re trying to tell me YOU’RE ‘Jonathan?’”

“Well, who did you THINK you were talking to?”

“Well, I don’t know, ma’am, but I need you to get ‘Jonathan’ on the phone for me.”

“I can’t ‘get Jonathan on the phone’ – I AM JONATHAN!”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but this is an important reminder about HIS appointment tomorrow with Dr. Dowling, so I need to speak with HIM about it.”

Wait a second here: “Ma’am,” “HIS appointment” and “speak to HIM about it.” Does she actually, honest to god, thinks she’s talking to a young girl or just a really stupid adult woman? I don’t know which one because she didn’t tell me, but even my own brother confuses me with my 11-year-old niece on the phone – and that’s when he calls me!

“Look,” I said exasperatedly. “I’m too busy for this shit right now, please call back when you figure out who or what you’re looking for.”

“Thank you, and have a nice day,” she said.

Why is it the only time people pretend to care what kind of day I have is after they make it virtually impossible for me to have a “nice” one? Is the phrase supposed to magically erase everything that happened before it? If it is, then it never worked for me.

I let these questions (and others) fester in my obviously tiny mind until I got to the grocery store. I didn’t really feel like taking a bus there as I’d probably have to use it tomorrow to get to my appointment. Besides the walk would help me “clear my mind” (spoiler alert – it didn’t, it never did and probably never will), but at least it was a beautiful day for a walk. It’s a positive.

There are a variety of drive-thru fast food restaurants along Central Florida Parkway between I-Drive and the Williamsburg Commons. For those people saying $15 will push people out of poverty, McDonalds on the periphery of the mall has installed brand new “Ordering kiosks” guaranteed to make their cashiers obsolete…but today they had a message taped on their screens saying “POS not operational” (which the 12yo in me REALLY wanted to post a picture of here). After a short deliberation, I realized they didn’t have what I wanted (and if they did, it probably violated my “Aftercare instructions”) so I went to Subway instead and saved money so I consider that a positive.

Now what to get for the rest of the week? Veggies, bread, cold-cuts, Chicken wings? I love wings, but I can’t have hard foods. Hey, potato chips are on sale, but they break into “sharp pieces” which would get “stuck in my gums.” Frozen Swedish meatballs? Eh, I’ll take it anyway. I have milk, don’t eat eggs, or ice cream (too heavy and is usually melted by the time I get back) …and that, folks, brings me back to the front of the store.

I wasn’t particularly impressed with their soda\snack options so I put my baskets on the conveyor and gave the cashier my two bags. As I’m looking for my hat, I look up and see the old man at the register twisting and flipping it around in his hand as if manhandling it would give him some revelation or something.

“What the hell are you doing,” I said as he notices the large “DVC Member” logo on the front of said hat.

“Well, I’m – was – trying to find the price tag on it.”

“Well,” I said snatching it from his hand impatiently. “I’m really getting tired of re-reRE-paying for that stupid hat everywhere I go – particularly since I got it for free and am docked $15-19 for it wherever I go.”

“Well, if you already own it, why did you give it to me to scan?”

“I DIDN’T. You took it from my hand when I gave you my bags.”

“Trust us,” the manager (who was acting as my bagger) said shrugging cavalierly. “We would be more than happy to charge you for it if you did.”

See? He’d charge me for a free hat – isn’t that hilarious?

I didn’t think so either, particularly since he just said he would have actually done it too. Not only that but I hate people automatically assume it’s A-Okay to manhandle MY things, but me touching THEIR things – even by accident – and you’d better believe there’d be hell to pay.

Hypocrisy? Nah, the former (as it was explained to me in an extremely condescending manner the last time something this happened to me) is “CAP-it-al-ism,” the latter is….um… who knows, but it’s obviously “justified” in some way and, clearly, even a “retard” like me can see the difference, right?

Well anyway, the exchange drained both my wallet and whatever remained of my patience so I went over to the ATM at the bank on the other end of the strip mall and tried to take out some money. Of course, the keypad wasn’t working right the first time so I cancelled and it worked fine thereafter so whatever. I walked away suddenly remembering that I had some coin rolls to deposit there… that I left back on the kitchen counter.

Fine, I’ll unwind with some coffee at the Starbucks on International…but I can’t have anything that I’d have to “drink through a straw” as that would have a “negative impact on my teeth.” Okay, saving myself $5 and change is another positive. Maybe, I can take a break and take the trolley back to the apartment…is what I’d say if the Northbound stop wasn’t “closed for construction,” but I saved another $2 so I guess that’s a draw of sorts.

The walk along Central Florida Parkway from the bank back to my apartment was the same distance it’s always been, but it seemed longer. Maybe it’s because there are only three benches the entire way from there to 1-4 (and they aren’t particularly well spaced for someone carrying heavy bags of groceries).

I got back around 3 or 4pm, at this point in the story, I really don’t care. I just want to go to bed… but who can sleep when the know they have a double root canal waiting for them when they get up?

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Categories: adventures, dentistry, florida, Orlando, Williamsburg | Leave a comment

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