The Asshole and the Stoner
Yesterday was an interesting day. It seemed normal starting out, but somehow it could never get away from the weirdness it was about to become. I had some encounters that I guess on any other day would have been unnoticed, but for yesterday they seemed to stick out.
The Asshole. I woke up early, as usual, watered the lawns, and headed to the new gym. I was getting pumped up trying to figure out how the best plan of attack was, psyching myself up to push the limits. I was amped. I stop, strap on my new set of Harbinger workout gloves, and as I'm exiting the car, this guy with dollar store sunglasses in a Neon pulls up and signals for me to roll my window down. So I do. What the hell right? There was a new song on the radio I liked that I was in to. He starts this long drawn out "I've never done this before so I don't even really know where to begin." I knew this was going to suck. Apparently this guy lives in Savannah but was stuck here in Chattanooga trying desperately to get back to Atlanta so his friends could give him money to get home. Is this important to the story? No. But I had to endure so now you must. Sob story over, this guy just asks for cash. I literally had none. I had two or three quarters in my center console and that was it. I had taken the cash out of my wallet for some reason a day or two before. I did kinda feel bad that I couldn't help the guy, but I offered him the three quarters and two dimes I had with me. No dice. He was pissed. He gritted his teeth and bit his lip, as if to say something smart ass. Then just shook his head and said "You know what? That's fine! That's just fine! So...yeah...Thanks! THANKS!" and drives off. I was honest with the guy, so he really didn't have a reason to be a total douche bag right? Furthermore, it's not my fault he didn't read anything by Steven Covey. If he had begun with the end in mind, maybe he wouldn't be stranded five hours from home. Either way, I hope he makes it home...but it really isn't my problem.
The Stoner. The hot wife had a craving for Arby's last night. And since she works so hard I try to help where I can. I stop in to Arby's to get a number 12 and a number seven. Simple enough right? I bet if you're only half reading this thinking of what an asshole this other guy was, you could still get this order right. For the Arby's stoner, this was a problem. We order, number 12 for the hot wife no tomato. I ask "Is the number seven better frilled or fried?" He thinks for a second "I don't really eat here," he says "but I think fried tastes better I guess." I make sure there is no honey mustard or anything I'm going to hate on my sandwich and then say "Oh yeah...on the number 12 we want curly fries, and a dew. With the seven I want potato cakes and sweet tea." He looks at me as if I'd said "Open the register and dump it in this bag bitch!" Clearly, we are not on the same page. So he says "Whoa man! What number seven? When did you order that?" I informed him that we had just spoken about this and I even asked him about grilled or fried. No shit. This kid looks me dead in the eyes and says "Really? What did I say?" This conversation couldn't have been 10 seconds ago and he had no clue. So I ordered a number seven and made him read the order back to me. He said hang on and never did. I had figured in my head that we'd never get what we ordered and we'd just leave. Amazingly, stoner kid nailed it. Number 12 no tomatoes, and a number seven plain. Nice...because even when they're not stoned this Arby's generally sucks.
That's it from me for now. We pick up the unnamed (Tumbler)dog tomorrow and the weekend will get busy from there. We will try to post pictures of the dog when we bring him home tomorrow night or first thing Saturday morning. If we don't, I hope everyone else has a good weekend.
The Asshole. I woke up early, as usual, watered the lawns, and headed to the new gym. I was getting pumped up trying to figure out how the best plan of attack was, psyching myself up to push the limits. I was amped. I stop, strap on my new set of Harbinger workout gloves, and as I'm exiting the car, this guy with dollar store sunglasses in a Neon pulls up and signals for me to roll my window down. So I do. What the hell right? There was a new song on the radio I liked that I was in to. He starts this long drawn out "I've never done this before so I don't even really know where to begin." I knew this was going to suck. Apparently this guy lives in Savannah but was stuck here in Chattanooga trying desperately to get back to Atlanta so his friends could give him money to get home. Is this important to the story? No. But I had to endure so now you must. Sob story over, this guy just asks for cash. I literally had none. I had two or three quarters in my center console and that was it. I had taken the cash out of my wallet for some reason a day or two before. I did kinda feel bad that I couldn't help the guy, but I offered him the three quarters and two dimes I had with me. No dice. He was pissed. He gritted his teeth and bit his lip, as if to say something smart ass. Then just shook his head and said "You know what? That's fine! That's just fine! So...yeah...Thanks! THANKS!" and drives off. I was honest with the guy, so he really didn't have a reason to be a total douche bag right? Furthermore, it's not my fault he didn't read anything by Steven Covey. If he had begun with the end in mind, maybe he wouldn't be stranded five hours from home. Either way, I hope he makes it home...but it really isn't my problem.
The Stoner. The hot wife had a craving for Arby's last night. And since she works so hard I try to help where I can. I stop in to Arby's to get a number 12 and a number seven. Simple enough right? I bet if you're only half reading this thinking of what an asshole this other guy was, you could still get this order right. For the Arby's stoner, this was a problem. We order, number 12 for the hot wife no tomato. I ask "Is the number seven better frilled or fried?" He thinks for a second "I don't really eat here," he says "but I think fried tastes better I guess." I make sure there is no honey mustard or anything I'm going to hate on my sandwich and then say "Oh yeah...on the number 12 we want curly fries, and a dew. With the seven I want potato cakes and sweet tea." He looks at me as if I'd said "Open the register and dump it in this bag bitch!" Clearly, we are not on the same page. So he says "Whoa man! What number seven? When did you order that?" I informed him that we had just spoken about this and I even asked him about grilled or fried. No shit. This kid looks me dead in the eyes and says "Really? What did I say?" This conversation couldn't have been 10 seconds ago and he had no clue. So I ordered a number seven and made him read the order back to me. He said hang on and never did. I had figured in my head that we'd never get what we ordered and we'd just leave. Amazingly, stoner kid nailed it. Number 12 no tomatoes, and a number seven plain. Nice...because even when they're not stoned this Arby's generally sucks.
That's it from me for now. We pick up the unnamed (Tumbler)dog tomorrow and the weekend will get busy from there. We will try to post pictures of the dog when we bring him home tomorrow night or first thing Saturday morning. If we don't, I hope everyone else has a good weekend.
1 Comments:
Can't wait to see pictures of Tumbler or whatever you decide on!