Today, I turned into a grumpy old man. That's quite a feat, considering
1. I'm female and
2. I'm not yet 35.
But sign me up for Bingo and check my prostate- I've joined the ranks of grumpy old men. Today, it was yet another rainy day- so we risked flash flooding and packed the kids up to head to our local cafe. We found this place shortly after moving here- it's located in the museum district, and rumoured to have the best coffee in town. I always try and downplay my "momminess" and wear something remotely hip, and make Matt park our van as far away as humanly possible- to avoid infecting the coolness of the cafe with our family stank.
So, there we sit- Annie happily chomping away on a piece of coffee cake that she is sharing with her sister, and Matt and I nursing our caffeine injections and trying to wake up despite the rain. The cafe guy brings over Annie's hot chocolate, and seconds after he disappears, she spills the whole chocolaty whipped cream mess all over herself and the floor. Conveniently, a girl that works behind the counter was walking by, about to deliver someone their breakfast. I say politely, "Excuse me? We've got a spill over here." She shoots me a dirty look and continues walking away. A few minutes later she reappears, with what can only be described as complete disdain on her face- carrying Lucy's order of fruit and yogurt.
"I'm sorry? But before? I was very busy and didn't hear you? What was it you needed?"
I quickly tell her we need some towels to clean up the mess, hoping she would volunteer to bring my antsy daughter a new drink, when I noticed we got the wrong order. When I tell her, she shoots me an even dirtier look and says:
"Look? I just got here? And I'm just delivering your food? I have no idea what you asked for? So now you have to bring it back up to the front and talk to them?"
Increduously, I now see there are 50 people in line to order- and watch her shrug her shoulders and walk away. I stand on the line, where the guy behind the counter is very cool- and takes care of things right away.
About 30 minutes later, Miss Happy Pants reappears at our table- with a new cup of cocoa, and an even snarkier look on her face.
"Did you need this? I've been very busy?"
This is when I morphed into Walter Matthau- and said in my nastiest voice:
"No- I took it to the front, like you suggested, and got it all fixed. Thanks Miss Sunshine."
MISS SUNSHINE? Where the hell did that come from? That's the BEST I could come up with? Once upon a time, a few years ago, I was a buyer for a national department store chain in New York City- and famous for the diatribes I could issue to vendors that shipped late. I could drink the Men's Sportswear division under the table and once got into a verbal assault on the subway with a group of teenagers that were pushing people during rush hour. And yet, throughout all of this intensive training---- I never in a million years thought that I would be reduced to calling someone Miss Sunshine, while wiping hot cocoa off my Mom jeans. Now I've got to go kick some kids off my front lawn.