Today we decided to try a new place for lunch, which is both new to us, and relatively new to the area. It is a fairly casual place. You get in line, order at the counter, and then someone brings your food to your table. At least that is how it is supposed work.
The staff were friendly and helpful. As we waited in line, not only were we given menus, but when B asked about their frozen custard, the guy brought him out a little sample. Everything was going great. We ordered, found a table and sat down.
A few minutes passed, and our drinks arrived. And not too much after that, B’s sandwich was dropped off. When the server took our pager, B said we were still waiting on a second sandwich. We were told that it was okay because the pager system wasn’t working. Huh? Okay?
I told B to go ahead and eat, figuring my sandwich would arrive shortly. We were near the station where the food came out of the kitchen, and things looked a bit hectic, but food was still arriving. Unfortunately there was no sign of my turkey club.
I started to get a bit worried when the people who sat at the end of our table several minutes after we had sat down, had all their food and we didn’t. By this point B was almost done with his sandwich.
I asked B for the receipt and went to go get help. There was a line at the cash register, but when the guy who gave B the custard sample saw me, I told him what had happened. He went and got his manager, Nathan, immediately.
I could tell the manager was sorry this had happened and wanted to make things right, but really by this point I just wanted to go home (even though we still had to go grocery shopping at Trader Joe’s and I had had cookies and tea for breakfast (because we needed to go grocery shopping)). Nathan refunded the sandwich, and gave me a frozen custard on the house to go. He really wanted to make sure we would come back (as did B who really enjoyed both his sandwich and the custard and is afraid this experience will mean we will not return).
I know it is stupid, and maybe it is my hormones hard at work, but a part of me just wanted to break down and cry right there in the restaurant. There had to be at least 30-40 people at this place. All of them seemed to be happy and enjoying lunch. Why did my sandwich get to be the one to go missing? Is there a sign on my forehead? Have I not lost enough? Is a turkey sandwich too much to ask the universe to get right on a Sunday afternoon?
I somehow survived the trip to Trader Joe’s, and a side trip to Albertson’s (it is at the other end of the parking lot – we needed oatmeal and water). But when I came back to the house, I finally lost it. I decided that perhaps I should eat something (even though it was after 4pm), and decided to make myself a sandwich. I put a slice of bread in the toaster, but when it popped up, I grabbed it, and threw it in the trash declaring that I wasn’t really hungry after all.
After my little tantrum, I went upstairs and went to bed. I have a blood draw tomorrow afternoon. Unless this is the final hooray of my hormones, I am not convinced I will be given the all clear this week (I am hopeful though that we will finally move into triple digits).
Meanwhile, the outlaws arrive in less than a week from now. Also, a second lamp died tonight (the one in our room died the night before last (and it wasn’t the light bulb)).