Extra pickles, please

Dear lady at the checkout counter,

I'm sorry if I gave you a funny look for a moment there. I know It's your job to ask me if I want a small, medium, or large beverage with my meal. I probably should have specified instead of just saying, "a drink."

But, being, like me, a member of productive society (aka, employee) — however recently returned from the lengthy sabatical I've taken — perhaps you can understand my state of mind at the moment. I came to this particular establishment knowing full well there would be questions about how I wanted my sandwich prepared. I had all those answers pretty well thought-out ahead of time. My mind was racing with all I had to do once I had secured said sandwich, and really, a beverage was more of an afterthought than anything. 

That was why, lady at the checkout counter, when you asked me, "Small, medium or large?" something just snapped.

All I could think was, "I have been making decisions all day long. I don't want to make a decision at lunch time. You decide!"

Hopefully I concealed my ever-so-slight and momentary annoyance with a pleasant smile, as (really not being able to decide) I repeated one of the options, not convinced it was what I wanted, but knowing it was what I would get. I wonder if I'm not the only one who ever feels this way. Perhaps even you, lady at the sandwich shop.

I have a friend who, at restaurants sometimes, just for fun, tells the waitress, "Surprise me. Just no pickles, please." That's how I feel at these moments. Someone else decide the little things. Only in my case, it would be "Extra pickles, please."

 

  • Comment