Oh my god, today all the karma in the world caught up with me.
It didn’t start out too horribly. I didn’t sever an artery with my Gillette Power Mach 3 in the shower (death by ankle whacking’ how delightful) or electrocute myself with my Flash Gordon hair dryer or anything, so that wasn’t too bad. I was starving when I woke up (because we had dined at Chez Parents and they were having a rather meager dinner involving plain white rice (ugh), pre-bagged leathery iceberg lettuce salad (ugh x 3), and chicken breasts which were marinated in Italian dressing (June considers that little trick rather gourmet, but if I wanted sweet chicken, I would have, you know, covered it with a Hershey’s or something. And I buy her quality spices, but no. No. Out comes the 99 cent bottle of Wishbone Fat Free, every damned time) which is always a shock, because normally, I’m rather iffy about food in the morning, most happy with either fruit or toast and some source of caffeine. While this was a delightful change, I didn’t want to push my luck and try something eggy or meaty or otherwise taunt my hair-trigger flutter tummy, so I prepared some peanut butter/jelly toast AND some fruit (black cherries from the farmer’s market and also the remainder of my All Watermelon All The Time bounty last week). And it was good. I even managed to make it out the door without watching my pieces of toast (one with chopped cherry jam and one with peanut butter, separate but equal pieces of toast that must be enjoyed separately, preferably alternating slices of toast with each bite’ hi, I’m broken) fall to the ground. I got into the car, which immediately informed me that I had gas to get me exactly 20 miles. No, wait, 16. But life was good. I could go to the full-service gas station, listen to my fully charged iPod, and munch on my toast. I revved up Main Street towards the gas station’ no, wait, I’ll go to Sbux first and get some tea. Because cut watermelon and black tea is truly delightful.
Except, no watermelon. The watermelon is sitting on the counter. I still had plenty of time. I zipped around, drove the mile back to my house and then realized I was locked out of the house. Esteban, however, answered the door eventually, and I ran in and there was my perfectly cubed melon, waiting for me on the counter. I had finished my toast by now and my throat was sticky from the peanut butter toast, so I grabbed a glass from the cupboard, filled it with milk and slammed it half down before I realized that it was sour. Lovely.
I grabbed the melon, burst out the door and sped back up the street. No time anymore for the gas station AND Sbux, so I would have to make a choice. I checked the Gas Genie, which told me that I had 10 miles of gas left. My office was 8.5 miles away. Starbucks it was.
I got to the Bux and ordered a Venti black iced tea and an orange juice to eliminate the sour milk taste from my mouth. The wait was forever, but I was ok. I had the sunroof open, was flipping through the iPod, and sort of enjoying the fact that I would soon have some lovely liquid refreshment to quell all of the nastiness of the morning. And I do so love the Odwalla juice at Sbux. It has that little tang that gets me just right there’ mmm.
I get to the window and a new Barrista hands me a bottle of Tropicana.
‘Oh, don’t you have the Odwalla anymore?’
‘Let me check.’ She snipped and then disappeared for five hours, leaving me sitting there with my Sbux card extended to pay. Finally, she returned, handed me my iced tea and a cheery little Odwalla bottle.
‘Here’ just so you know, for next time, if you specifically want Odwalla juice, then you need to ask for it. Everyone else would have given you the Tropicana.’ And then she stomped off.
Ok. Let’s just make something clear. They have always only had Odwalla juice at this place. When I’ve asked for ‘orange juice’ in the past, I’ve been given Odwalla. There has never been a choice. And also, she charged me for the $2 Tropicana instead of the $1 and whatever amount for the Odwalla. And also, she schooled me. It was just so wrong. I go to Sbux to be greeted by friendly faces and happy caffeine. I don’t want to be schooled by the barista on what was really her bad assumption. If someone just ordered a cookie, they would have gently pointed out the varieties, so why if they had two juices would they automatically go for whatever the hell they felt like?
I shook it off. I wasn’t going to let her ruin my morning. I drank my Odwalla on the way to the freeway and then proceeded to listen to the mellow playlist on the Pod. Then, I when I got into my exit lane behind a blue minivan, they stomped their brakes suddenly. I had room to stomp my own brakes, but another car decided that she was going to piggyback into the lane behind me, basically merging into the two car lengths of space between me and the car behind me. I realized that if I stomped my brakes to avoid hitting the mini-van, I would get hit by the little shitty white Escort, so instead I swerved back out of my merge, did that horrible tire squeal car rocking thing and through some wonder of Chrysler design, escaped unscathed. I sped up in front of the minivan (who had apparently stopped for no real reason) and merged in safely, sans white Escort, heart still thumping madly.
And then (and THEN!) when I was walking into the office, juggling my purse, container of watermelon, some mail, and my iced tea, I realized that I didn’t have my security pass to unlock the doors. Since I was so late, the receptionist should have been up at the door. And there she was, walking back to her desk, chatting with my friend Kim V. I watched them helplessly as they did morning chatter, then finally tried to maneuver things so that I could use my knuckle and rap on the window.
And watched as my entire Venti Iced Tea fell and exploded on the tile.
KimV came and opened the door, smiling at me. I picked up my now empty glass, (leaving the top, the straw and a million ice cubes) and looked at the receptionist and said ‘Call the janitor.’
‘Oh my gosh! Someone just&AO8AvwC9AO8AvwC9- Kim started.
‘That someone was me,’ I said, stepping gingerly over the puddle of ice and lovely subtle black iced tea and the last hope of having a good morning.
Honestly, if that’s karma, I’d rather it wait until I’m reincarnated as a bug or something.
