How. Rude.

On Friday I met my girlfriend Ess for lunch between meetings.  I got there a bit early, and Ess was running a bit late, so for several minutes it was just me and the flare-donning-waitresses.

I was responding to email on my phone when June came to the table.  She leaned over the table to get a look at my “frequent diner” card and stopped inches from my face and whispered “I’m June, I’ll be taking care of you, what can I getcha?!”

Ummm…perhaps some respect for personal space?

“Two Diet Cokes please” I responded, shifting uncomfortably.  “GREAT!” she whispered before scurrying off.  I texted Ess…

Me:  Our waitress is beyond annoying.  Prepare yourself.
Ess:  Yuck…in no mood.

June came back with our Diet Cokes and whispered, again a little too close for comfort, “are you familiar with our menu Care?”  Wait…what?  CARE?  Who the eff is CARE?

“I am, thank you.”  Off she went and I texted Ess again…

Me:  She is calling me by half my name.
Me:  She looked at my Stripes Card to get my name, which she used at first, but now since we’re friends she’s decided to shorten it.
Ess:  What?!

Ess showed up and within seconds June was leaning in and asking how she was doing.  But guess what?  June ended up being lovely.  Aside from her need to speak to us just inches from our faces she was actually very sweet.  Plus, any server who can keep up with the speed at which I down Diet Cokes is okay by me.

Sometimes I have a terrible attitude.  I don’t know what my problem is.  I had spent the morning on Friday doing data entry, which I hate, but it’s necessary for weekly reports that are run for my team.  I wasn’t mad, unhappy, or even that crabby but I went through that day feeling like Pat Benetar looks in the “Love is a Battlefield” video when she’s roaming the streets looking tough with her call-girl posse.  If only I looked that cool…sigh.

This wasn’t an isolated incident, lest you think it was an anomaly, and that normally I’m peaches and cream to everyone I meet.  Last fall I decided to do something nice for my community and I started spray tanning.  In the winter my skin turns a color that, if hit just so by the sun, could down airplanes and/or cause ten car pile-ups.  You’re welcome Twin Cities!  Anyway, the package for which I’d signed up also allowed for me to tan in some of the stronger bulbed beds.  Every time I went in, the teensy, overly chipper, overly tan girls would ask if I wanted to try the bed and I would politely decline.  When I first started going to the salon, I felt violent every time one of these little girls opened their mouths, and on one particular day I’d had enough…

Girl:  You only have ONE MORE DAY to try such and such bed.  Should we try it today?! (I hate when people say WE when there is no WE)
Me:  No thank you.
Girl:  Are you SURE???
Me:  Yes I am.  But thank you.
Girl:  But it’s one of our BEST BEDS and could really ENHANCE your color.
Me:  (Sigh) Actually, I just had skin cancer removed from my scalp six months ago (true story) so I think it’s probably best if I stick with the spray tanning.  But thank you for offering.
Girl:  (Audible inhaling of air and look of horror) Umm…did you tan in beds BEFORE you got skin cancer?
Me:  Yes, actually, I did.  EVERY.  WINTER.
Girl:  (In a whisper)  Booth 15 is ready for you.

Well, here’s the thing…the teensy, overly chipper, overly tan girls?  They are cute as buttons.  This past Saturday I went in and one of my faves was working.  She asked the standard “are you doing anything FUN this weekend?!!”  Since for once I had an answer that didn’t involve cleaning, or dog parks, or working, I proceeded to tell her that yes, we were headed out downtown.  “OH!  MY!  GOD!!!  WE ARE GOING DOWNTOWN TOO!!!  ALL OF US GIRLS!!!”  She went on to suggest hot clubs that are great for “an older crowd.”  See…I like these girls so much I even let that slide and simply took the advice.  And had I run into these girls at the bar…I likely would have bought them a round…because aside from their tiny little selves, their far too dark tans, and their almost insufferably cheerful demeanors, they are nice girls.  Just as June our waitress was a nice woman.

Apparently the only one who’s really irritating and an insufferable a-shole is me.

Sometimes I need an attitude adjustment.  It’s like if one thing doesn’t go as planned, or as I’d hoped, or if I’m overtired, or overstressed, I turn into Daria.  Who I always thought was SO funny but in real life it might just be mean.  I need to learn how to hold my tongue or at least give people a chance before I unleash my sarcasm and impatience on them.  God forbid the little girls ever witness me being so horrible.  That right there is enough to give me pause next time my evil tongue wants to wag.

TODAY:  What if instead of being an a-shole I just shut up and treat people kindly?  What if I keep my sarcasm and impatience at bay and give people a chance?

 

 


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