I feel like I need to preface this whole thing by saying: I had barely eaten for two days. Only about half my lunch. I had no appetite. Nothing sounded great. I just wasn’t hungry or particularly interested in food.
The perfect diet storm for the fat gay homosexual, yes. I’ve actually been dieting for months, with some limited success, so perhaps the drop-off in appetite was just a natural byproduct of purposeful dieting. Or perhaps just the natural ebb and flow of a 30-something metabolism.
Whatever the case, I decided after a long and stressful work week that I would drive down to Dunkin Donuts and get some bagels for the weekend. Bagels sounded good. Bagels sounded comforting. Bagels sounded like warm sweet pillowy bliss. And I’ve learned over the years that deprivation and I don’t work well together. I’m much better off if I don’t limit myself– if I want cheetos, I’ll eat some fucking cheetos. I just have to not ONLY eat cheetos* (*see my late teens).
But, here’s the thing. I really only like bagels with cream cheese. Lots and lots of cream cheese. Thickly spread, oozing cream cheese. So, what I’m saying is, there was going to be a severe run on cream cheese with this order.
Mmmmmm. I need a moment. Bare with me….
Anyways, I decided to drive south that night, because it is the closest location to work (although not my house), and tends to have a better selection of items towards the end of the day than the closer locations.
As I pulled up, I decided I wanted to get a croissant sandwich for dinner, and then have bagels for the weekend. The last time I had gone to Dunkin, they had run out of pretty much anything, and the croissant was what I wanted the most. And they had them! A lot of calories, but I’m so giantly fat that as long as I eat like about two normal humans, I can lose weight. And again, I literally had barely eaten in two days, and that’s not good for your metabolism either. Gawd. Yes, I’m freaking fat ok! Judgmental!
And that’s when I met my new favorite person in the whole world. The archetype: a teenager with no filter, no care at all for his job, and no discernable customer-service skills.
Him: Order when you’re ready (or whatever they are trained to say at Dunkin, this hardly matters)
Me: Hi! I’d like to get a sausage croissant sandwich, please. Also, I’d like to get a half dozen bagels with cream cheese on the side. And I’d like to get 6 extra cream cheeses. What kind of non-sweet bagels do you have?
Him: What do you mean?
Me: non-sweet, like not fruit or cinnamon or sugar?
Him: We have… 4 plain and 3 everything and 2 sesame.
Me: Can I get 3 everything and 2 of each of the rest?
Him: That’s not six.
Me: Oh, sorry. Duh. Apparently I can’t math. I’ll take 2 plain and one sesame.
Him: Will that be all?
Me: Well, I need to get the cream cheeses, too. So I would like twelve of the vegetable, please.
Him: Oh. We don’t have that many out. Let me check the cooler…. …
We only have 8 vegetable.
Me: Ok, I’ll take 8 vegetable and 4 plain. Ha! I mathed!
Him: …will that be all?
Me: Ummm, yes. Wait, can I also get a Diet Coke?
Him: Oh yeah! Don’t want forget that Diet Coke!
Me: (INTERNAL RAGEFIRE)
Me: Yeah, no, don’t…. want to forget my caff-iene. Thanks!
Him: Please pull forward for your total!
Me: (imagining pulling him out of the drive-thru by his stupid throat), I get my crap from some girl-person, pay, go home.
After arriving home and eating my dinner, I went to the kitchen to unpack my bagels and put stuff in the fridge, etc. I then noted that, geeze, there was no cream cheese to be had. Did I leave it in the car? No. I didn’t leave it in the fucking car.
It was at GODDAMN DUNKIN DONUTS!
So I called to confirm and talked to my favorite boy. Oh joy! “Oh, yeah, you. Yeah, you left it here!”
Um, excuse me? I left it? I. LEFT. IT? No, you asshole, you didn’t give it to me! AFTER I PAID. AFTER I HAD BORN YOUR LESS-THAN-SLY INSULT OVER ME ORDERING A LARGE AMOUNT OF FOOD ITEMS WITH A DIET COKE! AFTER I DROVE OUT OF MY FUCKING WAY TO GO TO YOUR GODDAMN ESTABLISHMENT BECAUSE I JUST WANTED SOME FUCKING CREAM CHEESE BLISS!
So I drove back down there, which, btw, is about 15 minutes each way from my house. I wait in line, get to the drive-thru and girl (again) is like, oh yeah, here it is! I take the bag, wait for some semblance of apology or the tiniest hint of customer service incentive, and, after several beats looking at the girl like “ummmm, now what” and getting absolutely no response from her dead eyes, and I drove home.
It took me about 45 additional minutes of my time on a Friday night. Not that I had any other plans, or anything better to do. But that is not the point. As a paying customer, I deserved better than what I got. I saved the receipt and decided to plot my revenge at a later date when I wasn’t as likely to come across like an enraged bloated whale carcass.
So, on Saturday, I had my three bagels. They were glorious. Everything I could have wanted and more.
On Sunday, I noticed that, hmmmm, I didn’t seem to have as much cream cheese as I should. This doesn’t seem right! Oh, that’s because I got shorted 4!
And that was the last straw.
Mr. Sister is about to have a full-on Dunkin-induced breakdown. A conversation with himself that would delight Freud in a context that would give Jung a psych-boner. That’s right: a Freudian conversation within a Jungian interpolation.
And it goes a little something like this:
Based on “Poor Unfortunate Souls” from “The Little Mermaid”
Songwriters: Alan Menken / Howard Elliott Ashman
Poor Unfortunate Souls lyrics © Walt Disney Music Company