Monday, March 06, 2006

Oh, Internet, Hear My Tale of Woe, For No One Else Wants to Listen to My Griping

Seriously. I tried, but was cut off at the pass. Before I was done complaining. I KNOW. Why would anyone want me to stop? My complaining is delightful! Music to the ears! A veritable symphony of glorious... Okay, okay, I know. I'll quit. Mostly because there are eleventy billion reasons I shouldn't be complaining, and I don't want to tempt anyone to outline those.

But anyway. Does something small ever irritate you SO MUCH that you just feel like you need to go on and on and on about it until someone pretends to take pity on you or at least listens until their ears fall off? Yes? (Say yes. You know you do it.) Well, dear internet, that is why I am here. Because last night I got a tiny sandwich that was charred at the edges when I really wanted a regular sized sandwich that was lightly toasted, and there was no way I'd complain about it to the slowest employees in the universe who both seemed very nice and who probably would have felt terrible if I'd mentioned that, hey, I ordered a small sandwich, not the Sandwich of Miniatureness, and I really don't like blackened anything, much less blackened crust of bread. Also it would have been rude and not very nice and is probably mostly a symptom of my American sense of entitlement (I want what I want! And I want it perfect! And I want it RIGHT NOW!) and also an indicator that maybe I wasn't feeling well, but hadn't realized it yet. (My skill with run-on sentences is unparalleled, I know.) (Also, chest cold, anyone? It's so much fun!) Because, internet, somehow getting a sandwich that was less than perfect was a REALLY BIG DEAL to me. And seriously? I can forgive.

I just have to complain a lot first.

4 comments:

Tina said...

I completely understand about wanting what I want when I want it and how I want it. I'm often "that girl" who asserts my desires, as I am a paying customer. And they probably spit in my food. And then I remember that if one has a place to live, a car and $10, he or she is among the top 8% wealthiest people in the world. And 92% of the world's popualtion would gratefully enjoy any leftovers of the food that I'm complaining about. But I'm usually complaining about coffee. Because THAT'S what's really important.

Anonymous said...

Where was this 'sandwich' per say from?? I'd enjoy to know if it's one of the places that have found my 'banned' list.

Anita the Sandy said...

Your story made me revisit a nice memory. A good friend and I reunited after not seeing each other for a year or so. We went out and ordered up some fancy little sandwiches. After waiting for them for nearly half an hour, we spotted our waitress looking painfully bored. We inquired about our food and she was delighted to have something to do. Our sandwiches arrived immediately. When we saw them, we couldn't stop laughing b/c they were just the tiniest little things. I ate mine, savoring both bites.. Really. I finished it in 2 polite bites. They were no bigger than a saltine cracker, but it tasted better than any sandwich I ever had, (even if the bread had noticably dried out during the wait.)

Shiz said...

I hate that. You pay enough for the sandwich and then? Not a nice sandwich. Pah. Disappointing.