"Bow, you're overreacting"
"There is no way that was deliberate"
"You are very handsome"
Firstly, thanks Brian. I felt really good about my hair this morning. Secondly, NO I AM NOT OVERREACTING! I said I could hear Brian's voice in my head, but you know what else I could hear in my head, due to the fact that it was 100 times louder? "The bells of rage"
But the events of August 8th, 2011 I think speak for themselves. I want to believe that the lady who ran afoul of me on this day didn't have ill intentions, but I also want to believe in miracles. Last time I checked, "Arrested Development" is still off the air, so I have no reason to believe in miracles. Just as I have no reason to believe this lady wasn't out to sabotage my evening stroll. Let me tell y'all a little story or as my fictional grandfather would say "spin a yarn for ya".
I was going out for my 7pm stroll as I'm known to do. Recently I have taken a shine to stopping by Tim Hortons (a popular donut shop here in Canada) picking up a large Iced Cappaccino and a donut and having myself a nice sit in the park while I listen to music and silently judge all the ugly children I see. It's become quite an enjoyable activity, because there is no shortage of delicious donuts or ugly kids with stupid faces.
The Innocent Beginnings:
I walked into the Tim Hortons, having the gentlemanly sense to turn down my music so I don't have to answer a million questions from the folks inside about "what that awesome song is". It's Rush, okay people? RUSH!
So I'm feeling a bit saucy on this particular day, so instead of a donut I decide to get 40 timbits, which to those of you who don't know are small, single bite donut holes. Just wanted to clarify that in case you thought me getting 40 of something at a donut shop was a cry for help.
So when I place my order, the lady behind the counter, lets call her...."Fucker", nodded at me and grabbed a box to start placing Timbits in. I patiently awaited her inquiring as to which of the various flavors I would like in the box, but much to my chagrin, that question never came. Curious, I peaked over the counter and saw her just randomly picking Timbits and putting them in the box. What the fuck is that about? Who made her my food caddy? What gave her the right to decide for me what Timbits I would be enjoying that particular evening? If you answered "Nothing. Nothing gave Fucker that right", me and you are gonna get along just fine.
It was bullshit, man. I spent the entire time in line figuring out how I would allot my 40 Timbits. It's tough. You can't go too many of one flavor, or what's the point of getting 40? Committing 10 to "Chocolate Glazed" may seem like a good move, but trust me, around the 7th or 8th you are going to be wondering why you didn't get a few extra Honey Dip ones. It's a thing.
"Guys, I screwed up")
Shit Gets Real:
Not content to just let something like this happen, I spoke up and inquired as to whether or not I would be permitted to select my own Timbits. She looked very frustrated with me and nodded as she set the box she had started filling aside and prepared a new box for my order. What the hell, lady? Is this Soviet Russia or do the people actually get a say in what they want.
"In Russia, you get 1 flavor of Timbit: plain. And you will like it")
I was so thrown by her attitude and presumptious nature that I had forgotten my meticulously planned Timbit alottment and stammered a bit while selecting them. Before you even ask, yes, I did go overboard on chocolate glazed. But that is more her fault than anything.
So I take the Timbits and put them in a plastic bag I had from the corner store and walked to the park. Fuming over what had gone down. I calmed down about it though, because the Timbits were delicious, the park was very nice, the haunted bench where I like to sit was once again, unoccupied (more on that in a later post) and I met a delightul middle aged Asian couple who were some of the friendliest folks I've met in some time. Things had really turned themselves around. I had some Timbits left (obviously) so I packed up my things and went on my merry way...but that lady at Tim Hortons had one more devious trick up her sleeve of evil.
I threw away the bag I was using, because I didn't need it anymore (the Tim Hortons Timbits pack has a handle, which is aptly named because it's quite handy). I picked up my Timbits and then it happened.
Part of the handle broke off, spilling the remainder of my Timbits all over the place. That has never happened to me before. Ever. I know some might think me a bit, what's the word? "fucking crazy" for thinking that perhaps she had sabotaged the cardboard handle while I wasn't looking or while I was trying to regroup and remember my order, but I don't care.
POST POST ADDENDUM
So after reading this post, I got the following text from the aforementioned Mr. Brian Shirlaw that reads as such:
"I want you to add an addendum from me, The Czar of Rationality: If some Tim Hortons clerk "cowboy'd up" and decided to pick all my timbits for me, I would tell her to start over. That is a fucking crazy amount of presumption. It would be like going to a restaurant and the server flipping a coin on how your steak is cooked. But yes, you are crazy about the handle"
So yeah, Brian, I have cleared your name and all who read this will now know you wouldn't tolerate those shenanigins either. But in regards to the handle? Me and her both know what happened. And we both know one day I will have my revenge. Or my vengeance. I'm not particular about which I have.
Thanks for Reading
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