From all the whining I did last week and the general snarkiness of the blog, you’ve probably gathered that there are a lot of things that I find irritating. And by things I mean people. I don’t really know when I became such a surly brat, but somewhere around age 16 I started just telling all sorts of people that they were on my list. If they asked what my list was I would paraphrase Phoebe Bouffay and tell them it was a piece of paper with their name on it. Now I realize this is quite obnoxious, but at 16 being nice and polite was not exactly my strong suit. I mean you are talking to the girl who once loudly exclaimed in the airport security line, “See, Mom? No tools allowed. I guess you can’t board” Yes, I was that awful, but in that context the list shenanigans don’t seem so bad, now do they?
Anyway, back in high school the list was basically just my mom at number one and Boyfriend at number two. Number three alternated between my horrific pre-calc teacher who wore denim jumpsuits, my tennis nemesis and the kid who used to sit next to me in government and smoke cigarettes behind his textbook. These days, so many people irritate me that I can’t possibly keep them all straight so I have mostly abandoned the list. Recently, though the employees at my local Dunkin Donuts are really trying hard to get me to resurrect my list. For the record, this is not the Dunkin Donuts where my boyfriend is employed. I had to switch to a new DD because things were getting too serious with Shy.
Last week, I boycotted the grocery store on account of the fact that the crowds at Trader Joe’s give me Social Anxiety Disorder. As such, there was no food to speak of in my apartment and so on Friday it was either eat the chocolate I keep stashed in my desk for lunch or buy myself something not made entirely of sugar. After at least an hour of deliberation I decided to go with a bagel. At this point I was already an hour late leaving work and on my way to visit Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman said lateness meant that I could not stop at Bruegger’s without going terribly out of my way and if I wanted to avoid traffic I would be forced to settle for Dunkin’ Donuts.
The employees at the Dunkin’ Donuts I usually go to flat out will not put cream cheese or butter on your bagel. At first I thought I had just run across the bad employee, the second time maybe I hit them on a bad day, the third time I was convinced they hated me, the fourth time I tried specifically asking for the cream cheese ON the bagel, after the fourth time I gave up and ordered a blueberry muffin. So by the time I was starving to death in my car last week it had been two months since I had eaten a bagel from Dunkin’s and I really was just too hungry to be satisfied by a few crusty bits I picked off the top of a reduced fat muffin. In an effort to optimize my bagel experience I drove to another store about 45 minutes away thinking these people cannot possibly be as lazy as the one’s at my DD.
As I was opening the bag, I just kept thinking please let the cream cheese be on it, please let the cream cheese be on it. Reaching around in the paper bag for the warm, toasty bagel I first felt it, a knife. No, no, no, no, no. Then I looked in and there it was a toppingless bagel with the cream cheese sitting in a little tub at the bottom of the paper sack. After I got done weeping openly into my steering wheel I made up my own, now cold, bagel and ate it without enjoying it.
I’d like to say that what really makes me mad about this is something other than the fact that I don’t want to slather my own bagel with stuff, but let’s face it, I am kind of lazy. If I had wanted to go through the trouble of prepping my own bagel I would have just bought a bagel at the grocery store. I certainly would not have come to this establishment and given you three dollars for this glorified dinner roll. That three dollars is a premium that I choose to pay so I don’t have to tend to my own bagel. You put the milk in my coffee for me; how is this any different? It is not like when I go to work I get to pick and choose my tasks. I have to do all the projects whether I feel like it or not, which for the record most of the time I do not.
After ranting to both Esquire and Ferret about this it appears that the Dunkin’ Donuts employees are not just hazing me as they have both struggled with the same issue at their respective DDs. It seems to me that this is some sort of epidemic plaguing all parts of New England and the Mid-Atlantic. I am so not into it. I don’t know who first developed this aversion to assembling breakfast food as directed, but suffice it to say I am bringing back my list just so I can’t put them at the top.