Barbara Meyers Blogs About Random Stuff

Is there anything better than walking across a clean wood floor?  I love the way the smooth wood feels on the bottom of my feet right after I’ve mopped my living room (and let it dry, of course).  As soon as the dog and the husband get their filthy paws on it, though, there goes that lovely feeling.  I could mop it more often, couldn’t I?  But I think we all know this about me:  I hate housework.

Speaking of dirty floors, what’s up the dog hair everywhere?  Pepper is shedding like there’s no tomorrow.  Not that it’s hot here or anything.

A customer complained to corporate about me.  Apparently, I was “rude” to her.  I’ve been “rude” to her twice.  Oh, and she can tell that I hate my job.

Sadly, I knew she was going to complain about me and I probably could have done something to preempt it, but I didn’t.  I told my manager he was going to get a complaint about me (and he did).  In fact, she’d already talked to him, he’d smoothed it over, or so he thought, and told her next time she came in her drink was on him.  Not good enough.  Nope.  She had to e-mail corporate, so that complaint filtered down through the district manager (who had a hard time believing this woman had such a problem with me) to my manager, who was obligated to inform me and then sort of said, “don’t worry about it.”

Oh, but I do.  Maybe it’s a good thing she complained.  Makes me more aware of what more I could be doing to see to our customers’ satisfaction from here forward.  In truth, I don’t know who this customer is.  If I had to pick her out of a line-up, I couldn’t.  I remember her drink order because I made it wrong the first time and had to remake it (she wanted half-decaf).  She told me the drinks looked runny when I was pouring them into the cups.  I said, “They’re not runny.”  Then she said it again.  I repeated my response and told her I’d made the drink to the company’s standard and they’re supposed to be pourable.  I guess that was rude.  I handed the drinks off, thanked her, told her to have a nice day or whatever, same thing I do with every customer. 

She and her companion sat outside and sucked the drinks down, so I guess they were fine.  She didn’t complain about the drinks, just about me. 

Alternative responses?  Anyone?  Anyone?

I could have asked her if she’d like me to make them thicker (easy to do, add more ice and re-blend them).  When she was sitting outside I could have asked her how her drinks were.  I thought of doing this, but then realized, for whatever reason, I wasn’t going to.  Maybe I just didn’t care enough that day.  And maybe she was extra sensitive that day.  If she thought my behavior was rude, she must be offended by every store clerk and restaurant server she comes in contact with. 

I wasn’t being legendary.  That day.  With that customer.  Oh, well.  In the future, if you want to complain about me, be specific.  What did I do that was rude?  What did I say?  How did I behave?  And how in the world can you tell whether or not I hate my job from such a brief interaction.  (If I hated it so much, would I still be there after six years?  Would I have all these pins on my apron?  Would I have been promoted?)  Seriously.  We’re all so quick to judge each other, aren’t we?

Driving the other day I pulled into a right turn lane in front of another driver who apparently thought there wasn’t enough room for me.  He laid on his horn and made a few hand gestures at me.  I waved to him in a “thanks for letting me in” sort of way.  I made the turn and he hung back.  I don’t know why.  I think the coast was as clear for him as it was for me. 

At the next stoplight when I was waiting in the left turn lane, he passed me blaring his horn and my companion said he veered toward my car.

Okay, I get it buddy.  You’re acting just like I used to.  It’s embarrassing and makes you look like a hot-headed fool. 

I don’t know why any of us behave this way on the road.  It’s not like we own the road any more than any of the other drivers.  It’s there for everybody.  And if someone pulls in front of you when you think they shouldn’t, and maybe they cause you to miss a light or something, seriously, what’s the big deal?  It’s a few seconds or minutes out of your life.  Is it worth getting that upset over?  Take the time you have to sit at that light and think of things you’re thankful for.  Say a prayer.  Breathe deep.  Turn off the radio and enjoy the silence. 

Know what else I hate besides housework?  Cooking.  Planning, shopping, creating meals.  I hate it.  I don’t care about it.  It drains my creativity and most days I can’t come up with one idea to have for dinner.  These refrain runs through my head:  We just had that.  I don’t want chicken again.  He doesn’t like that.  That’s too much trouble. 

Maybe it’s cooking for two that’s got me.  Maybe it’s that my husband and I prefer different things.  I could eat a bowl of soup or a salad for dinner.  He wants an entire meal.  Why I feel obligated to provide that in some way, I don’t know.  Force of habit, probably.

Since it’s Father’s Day, he’s lucked out.  I’m making chicken parmesan, salad and garlic bread for three.  They say everyone should have one meal they do well.  This is mine. 

Now I have to go the grocery store.

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