My brothers think all I do is sit around in my pajamas and look at Yaoi all day on the internet. Well, not all day, occasionally have to go places… and if you’ve followed this blog for any length of time, you’d know that rarely goes well. Today – yesterday’s as you’re reading this – adventure was no exception…
I ran out of blue recycling bags, and there’s only ONE store that I know of in the area that sells them – the dollar store on International between Cici’s Pizza and the now closed Golden Corral. The plan was to get dinner at aforementioned Cici’s… which I literally found out when I got there is also closed – permanently (being a buffet is kind of a non-starter in a pandemic).
So, I went to the only other food option that I could think of there (I’m a fat blogger not a food blogger), the IHOP on the far end of their parking lot. Personally, I probably should have gone to the Dunkin’ Donuts next door and be done with it. I didn’t, but it would have saved myself some time, money, and aggravation.
I knew the store was open because not only were the lights on, but there were cars in the parking lot. What I didn’t know was they only had THREE people working in there – a waitress, a manager and a line cook. I’ll give her credit, the waitress was friendly and efficient… but juggling waitressing and maitre’d duties was clearly too much for one person which is why I decided once I finally got my check, that I didn’t feel like waiting around for whenever she’d get back with my change, so I left the money on the table and slip out without her noticing.
I went to the Dunkin’ next door for coffee and dessert… except they were out of the coffee I wanted and the drive-thru guy grabbed the last donuts just a second before I was going to order them. Well, okay then, that’s two for two…
I’ll see what they have at the dollar store in the main plaza. They had bottled Starbucks drinks, so I guess that’ll do… but they didn’t have the other thing I was hoping to get there – shirts (as none of my pre-pandemic shirts fit anymore).
So, I took my coffee and the few other items I found there (as they changed their planogram since my previous visit) to the register, paid and when she pulled out the plastic store bags from the counter under the register, I finally remembered the original reason I was there.
Blue Recycling Bags!!
“Whoa,” the cashier said coming back from around the counter. It’s unclear whether her coworker helped the next customers in line or continued propping up the door frame he was leaning against. “You’ll never find them. Heck, I can barely find stuff anymore – and I WORK here!!”
I’m sure she was trying to be friendly and helpful, but part of me couldn’t but feel condescended to – despite her self-deprecating joke. However, she did give me a bit of an inside warning that “the new owner doesn’t see any profit in these. So, when these are gone, we’re probably not gettin’ anymore.”
I was going to grab three boxes, but she hands me two and not so subtly nudges me to go back to the register, where the same family was still standing. She rings up both boxes and adds them to my bag.
I leave the store (sorry, for such a long post), open Lyft, put the address in “11701 International Drive,” drug my location from the apartments across I-Drive to the plaza I was standing in and hit submit. I then took the Frappuccino bottles out of my [store] bag and waited until my phone alerted me to a vehicle nearby.
I threw now my empty Frappuccino bottles in a nearby trash bin, grabbed my bags and waited at the protrusion in the sidewalk in front of the World of Chocolate Museum & Store. I followed the driver on the map until she pulls up to a space on the outside of an unknown building and stops. A minute later, I get a cheery message saying “I’m here” and asking for a description so she knows what to look for.
I’m not seeing anyone here, but I respond with a full description anyway – even though I’m the only person standing there. Less than a minute, my phone rings and I’m informed that I’m NOT where I say I am. And I’m not seeing any “silver Honda Pilot” entering the parking lot from either entrance, so clearly ONE of us is wrong…
Take a wild guess, who she thought was wrong.
But, don’t worry, she got even with me by snapping “have a nice day… you fucking asshole” and hanging up on me. Ten seconds later, I get an email from Lyft saying they’ve fined $5 for a “no-show” when to the best of my ability to explain EXACTLY where I was, what I was wearing, etc. and the closest thing to compromise was her asking if I “was standing in the middle of I-Drive?” I can’t even prove she moved her car once she called me (as my phone locks all apps when I pick up a call).
My dad loooved to remind me, “r—-ds – like you – have no credibility,” that doesn’t, however, mean I can’t report her ass to Lyft anyway. While I was there, I requested a new driver and the app once again showed my location as the apartments across the street (11833 Westwood Blvd). I drug the location marker back to where I was actually sitting… and the address changed to 11793 International Dr. So even though the MARKER was correct, the address – the one she put into her GPS app – was still wrong.
In other words, I’m bitterly called a “fucking asshole” because the app showed me at the IHOP I had just come out of. When I put in the address manually, the driver had no problem finding me, and I was able to get back safely…
Life in the Uncanny Valley 