I normally don’t shock easily – about the goings on around me or even around the world. But recently I’ve raised an eyebrow or twitched an eye at a few strange comments – which I felt the need to share – to either put a smile on your face, or have your jaw drop.
Never tell a middle-aged woman you see daily, ‘oh I see you are wearing makeup today,’ when she wears makeup everyday.
At a retail store – while consulting with a makeup artist about a facial primer – he says ‘this one is used on dead people, so it is lasting and oil-free.
‘This product will help your dull hair look alive, not like a young person, but you know, for your age, you should try it.’
Ordering a salad with no mention of fat-free in the ingredients, the gal behind the counter asks if I would like fat-free dressing?
Walking in through the front door, you pre-warn you’ve had a bad day, and he decides that moment to be ideal, to pick a fight or have a heated discussion instead of serving you a glass of wine, and a few nuggets of dark chocolate, or perhaps light a few candles, and draw a bath.
When you walk into a restaurant alone, and stand before the podium where you check in and announce you would like to be seated for lunch-for-one and the hostess still asks – how many in your party.
I would like a salami, white cheddar, on focaccia with aioli spread, fresh spinach, tomato and a few slices of jalapeno you say to the person behind the counter who asked if they can help with your order
‘what kind of meat?”
‘what kind of bread?’
‘Focaccia ,’ you repeat patiently
This is where she squirts mayonnaise and you yell ‘no mayo please, I’d like the aioli spread,’ you point to the bottle and she rolls her eyes, while scraping off the mayonnaise and mumbling under her breath. ‘mustard?’ she yells back. ‘no, please,’ you answer, she still spreads it on, ‘no, mustard,’ you command. she scrapes off the mustard, this time telling her co-worker in a foreign language which I understand but she doesn’t know this, how much she hates my attitude. ‘what else you want,’ she yells, her body language ready to jump the counter should I dare complicate her standard approach to sandwich crafting. ‘fresh s-p-i-n-a-ch,’ I respond, making the same threatening eye contact back, inside me hoping she won’t reach under the counter, and sprinkle rat poison on my meal. ‘what else?’ she says again, not making a move. ‘ t-o-m-a-t-o, and jalapeno please.’ I watch while she picks a slice of tomato from the stack, and adds two coin-sized jalapeno slices, and quickly wraps the sandwich and puts it on the counter – before I could ask her to slice it in half.
Have a wonderful Thursday!