All That Glitters...

Not everything is as it seems. I've sure you've heard the phrase "all that glitters isn't really gold" at some point in your life. Maybe you've heard, "what you see isn't always what you get" or "if something looks too good to be true, it usually is". I experienced a lesson in this area today.

One of my closest loved ones, Allison, came over this morning. We went to Target. I don't normally shop at Target, but we had a reason to go. Target has pumpkin spice flavoured M&Ms. We looked through the clearance section in the clothing and we each found a shirt. She got a couple of things for her children, and when we went up to the register, we saw the pumpkin spice M&Ms. We each grabbed a bag and went through the check out line. When we got to Allison's vehicle, she tore her bag open and handed me some of the pumpkin spice M&Ms.

When I first heard of these pumpkin spice flavoured candies, I had my doubts. Do pumpkin and chocolate go together? It does not sound like a great flavour combo. Mind you, I have had pumpkin chili, pumpkin burgers, pumpkin ice cream, pumpkin fudge, pumpkin coffee, pumpkin kettle corn and toasted pumpkin seeds. I have never had anything that combined pumpkin and chocolate. I'm willing to try anything once. And I looked at the candies in my hand, and I anticipated that I would taste pumpkin spice. So I ate one. And it didn't taste like pumpkin spice. I ate the other one, and it wasn't getting any better. By the third M&M, I realized two things.

1. We had either been ripped off...or
2. The chocolate must have overpowered the pumpkin flavour.

They tasted like regular M&Ms. And they were $2.99, and I think we simply paid for the bag, because the company who makes these M&Ms lied to us. There was no pumpkin spice flavour whatsoever! None! Because of this, I'm not so willing to try the pumpkin Oreos. I will probably just be disappointed once again. YOU CAN'T PROMISE ME PUMPKIN FLAVOUR AND THEN NOT GIVE IT TO ME! WHERE'S THE PUMPKIN FLAVOUR?!?

Now that I've thrown my tantrum, here's a warning. Do not waste the gas taking the trip to Target or the money to purchase this travesty...this poor excuse for a pumpkin spice flavoured candy. It's not worth it. You're just buying regular M&Ms in a pretty bag that claims them to be pumpkin spice! It's a trap!

(I'm fairly sure he wasn't a philosopher.)

Let's move on from one rant to another.

After the disappointment of the M&Ms, Allison and I went to Starbucks to get drinks that REALLY CONTAINED PUMPKIN SPICE FLAVOUR. *ahem* It's across from Target. It wasn't a very long trip, maybe 75 seconds depending on traffic. (Perhaps I'm being generous here.)

Allison and I walked into Starbucks. I made a beeline for the loo, (forgive me for the TMI that I'm about to share) because I piddle enough for three people. I have had my glucose checked and have undergone glucose tolerance testing several times since diabetes does run on my maternal side of the family, and my glucose is usually low, around 80 or 90, something like that. One time it was normal, which was a first. *shrugs* I'll take hypoglycemia for $500 Alex. It's better than type 2 diabetes. Allison was nice enough to wait for me before ordering. I hadn't expected her to wait, but she did, because she's awesome like that. She had let this guy go in front of her.

Now we're getting back to the title of the post. I know, I take forever to get to my point. I'm a writer. We are short spoken, but long winded when communicating in written word. This guy, he just looks like a guy, He's in good physical shape for someone who has to be in his fifties. He seemed downright chipper when he entered the establishment. But when I walked over, he was ordering the girl behind the register around like she was beneath him. It took me every ounce of willpower I had to keep my mouth shut.

Before I continue, let me say that I'm not the nicest person in the world. I'm not. A lot of people seem to think I am, but the truth is, I have my nice moments. Most of the time, I want to scream profane words while stapling things to people's heads. (This might be an exaggeration, but it's close to the truth.) People have admitted that they see me as intimidating and not easily approachable. I like my personal space, so I'm okay with that. Then there are the people who know me, and realize that I'm just simply an aloof person.

(How some people would describe me.)

But to tell you the truth, (there's no reason to lie about it) I'm not a nice person 24/7. I've just gotten better at being less mean. Just yesterday, Doug kept talking to me while I was finishing up one of the short stories for Dormiveglia, and I somehow refrained from shrieking at him to go away and leave me alone. He wasn't doing anything wrong, but I was in the zone, and I hate being interrupted when my head is that deep into the story. My body may have been sitting at my desk, but my mind was elsewhere.

John Pinette talked about having a cherub-like demeanor and how often he lost this cherub-like demeanor. (This mostly happened to him while waiting in line and people held up the line asking stupid questions.) I can relate to that. Sometimes, my cherub-like demeanor just does not exist.

Despite the fact that I just admitted that I'm not the nicest person in the world, I am not rude to people. I don't enter a store or a restaurant and start shouting that what I wanted should have been handed to me on a silver platter yesterday. I don't do that. I'm not mean to anyone unless they are mean to me. I'm not prejudice of anyone for any reason. I certainly don't feel like anyone is beneath me. Even the most annoying person that I have encountered on any given day that I might entertain fantasies about punching, I'm not better than that person. It just doesn't work that way. Personally, I'm the one who feels like I don't measure up to everyone else. 

I just stared at this man with anger and disbelief. Who was he to order the girl at the register around like she was a servant in his mansion? I bit my tongue. I thought I was going to make it bleed by biting it so hard.

This man, let's call him Jerky McJerkface (why did I make him Scottish) was going through the steps on how to make his drink, talking to this girl like she was stupid. 

(He must have thought she was.)

I kept reminding myself not to say a word. My heart just went out to her. I wanted to knock Mr. McJerkface unconscious and rid everyone of having to witness this ill treatment of a Starbucks employee.

Before I continue, I must admit that I'm very particular about my food and drink, but that's why I give specifics when I order. I don't leave the person taking my drink order guessing. I often order an iced venti nonfat chai tea latte. It's as simple as that. They don't have to ask questions. I trust them to make the drink from there. I don't care how much nonfat milk they put in the cup, as long as it's nonfat. Mr. McJerkface was telling this girl the exact amount of milk to put into the cup.

After ordering the girl around, McJerkface turned around, smiled, and thanked Allison for letting him go in front of her! So here comes the double standard. Apparently, only people who stand behind registers at coffee shops are beneath him. I have a feeling that he treats fast food employees, restaurant servers, and retail employees the same way. Allison and I weren't behind the counter, so apparently we deserved the niceties that he so generously lavished and bestowed upon us. I guarantee if it were one of us behind the counter, we would have been spoken to by Mr. McJerkface with the same condescending manner as if we were idiots who were desperately in need of his guidance.

I stuck around to wait for my drink, and McJerkface was at it again, berating the poor girl making his drink! You just don't do that to people, and you definitely don't act that way toward those who are handling your food and drink. I'll bet Mr. McJerkface consumes a lot of other people's saliva. I know that's a repugnant thought, but it's the truth. Think about it. 

This is how the exchange between Mr. McJerkface and the barista went:

McJerkface: I SAID I WANTED 2% MILK!

Barista: The ticket said nonfat.

McJerkface: I KNOW WHAT THE TICKET SAID, BUT I WANT 2% MILK! YOU'RE PUTTING TOO MUCH MILK IN THERE! YOU PUT TOO MUCH IN IT! THROW IT OUT AND START OVER AGAIN!

That's when I took Allison's bag and announced that I was going to find a seat. It wasn't so much that the remodel of this Starbucks location left less seating, but it was the fact that if I didn't walk away, I was going to defend the barista to the death. I'm an extremist. It's all or nothing, and I would have fought until one of us went down. I found a place to sit, and I sat there, and I just felt bad for the barista and the girl behind the register.

(It certainly didn't make McJerkface look any smarter treating the girl like she was stupid.)

Allison was kind enough to retrieve my drink for me. She sat down. We focused our attention on just catching up. As Jerky McJerkface made his way to exit, he looked chipper again. He even flashed a smile in our direction. I was stunned. I watched him leave and was glad he was gone. I was surprised that the Starbucks employees did not start applauding when the door shut. I know I almost did!

(This was pretty much the look I gave McJerkface when he smiled at me as he walked out.)

Despite the disappointment of the not so pumpkin spice flavoured M&Ms and Mr. Jerky McJerkface, Allison and I had a great time. We talked. We gazed through the windows of Starbucks at the beautiful day. Some of the leaves are finally starting to turn. They're taking their sweet time, but I'm seeing more and more evidence of fall in them, and in the robin's egg blue sky that made the clouds seem brighter. 

Thankfully, the beauty of the day and the laughter I shared with Allison helped my cherub-like demeanor remain intact. I took the day off today, since I finished one of the three stories for Dormiveglia yesterday. (I worked fifteen hours straight yesterday.)

My honorary son is coming over to hang out, and I'm beyond the valley of thrilled to see him! We're going to eat in front of the television and go into our respective food comas and possibly experience laughter induced syncope while watching something of a comedic nature.

How do you deal with the Jerky McJerkfaces that you encounter? Maybe you've not had the unfortunately privilege of encountering one, but when you do, you'll know.

So, to Mr. Jerky McJerkface, I hope in the future you learn how to better treat employees that earn an honest living to serve you food and drink, because mark my words, sir, one day a bystander won't have the filter or the willpower to keep from speaking out against your mistreatment of an employee. You are no higher on the caste system than they are (and there's no longer a caste system in case you don't know), so get over yourself. 

Have a nice day.

Cheers!