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Well, not all of this happened on the same Sunday, but all of it happened on a Sunday at some point in time.
Laundry EW
I'm chit chatting with the owner while my laundry is in the driers when a woman walks in and comes up to him. Judging by accent and the New York plates on her car, I'd say she's from NYC.
EW: Entitlement Whore extraordinaire
LO: Laundry Owner
Me: Mostly watching in amusement
Italics: My thoughts
EW: Excuse me! Do you work here?
LO: Yes, I'm the owner.
EW: Great. I need to get back to the city and your machines are just too slow. My clothes are in that machine. *points to a triple load washer* Just load them into the dryers and I'll pick them up later.
LO: I'm sorry, we don't do same day service on Sunday. And if you started the load, we don't finish it. It has to be under our control start to finish or we can't take responsibility for your clothes coming out alright. Personally, I'm glad he subscribes to the CYA rule.
EW: Well, I need this done. Fine, just dry them and fold them. I'll have someone pick them up during the week and I'll pay you back next month when I'm back in town. BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA. Seriously? I'm not sure how I managed to not laugh at her at this point.
LO: Sorry, but you didn't check your items in with us, so we can't do that for you. You can just put them in the dryer now, since the washer has stopped and then come back for them later.
EW: I just told you that I have to go back to the city. You just dry and fold my clothes and I'll call you later. *she turns and storms out of the laundromat, into her car, and goes screeching out of the plaza*
LO: *to me* I don't think she listened to a word I said.
Me: Yeah, I don't think so either. Going to dry her clothes?
LO: Not a chance. Don't know what I'll do with them, though.
Me: Toss them in a plastic bag and wait for her to call. Then tell her the clothes are still wet and starting to smell a bit.
LO: I just might do that.
Racist liar
I think there was a bit of suck on my part here, too. But I do so enjoy being an a**hole.
On my way home from playing cards with the guys, I was picking up dinner from one of our favorite Asian restaurants. They have awesome Chinese, Japanse (yay sushi!), and some decent American dishes, too. For the last 5 miles of the trip, I was stuck behind a massive SUV with Florida plates poking along at 25 MPH. The speed zones we were driving in ranged from 40 MPH to 55 MPH, which already left me a bit frustrated. Every time we hit a passing zone, there was a massive line of cars in the oncoming lane, of course.
We finally get to the restaurant, and who turns into the lot in front of me? Well, we're in the parking lot, how bad can it be, right?
SUV stops dead while the driver and passenger debate parking. All the spots next to building are full, except for one handicapped spot. All the spots directly across from the door are empty. The driving area between the two rows of spaces is maybe 15 - 20 feet wide. The passenger keeps pointing off to the spaces across from the building. Finally, they pull up and park 1/2 in the handicapped spot and 1/2 in the lined area between the handicapped spots for those that have the vans with the little elevators (is there a technical term for those that I don't know?)
By this time, I'd seen more than enough of the back of the SUV to know they didn't have handicapped plates. Still, I gave the driver the benefit of the doubt, thinking maybe they have a placard.
I pulled into a spot directly across from the door. I get out and as the older couple (mid to late 50's) in the SUV get out. I walk in behind them and take the chance to scan the windshield area of their vehicle for a handicapped sticker or placard. None to be seen. Still, I keep my mouth shut, planning on just telling the restaurant staff so they can deal with it.
We all get inside, I walk up to the counter to wait in line for my take out. The couple from the SUV look at the menu. And then it gets really sucky.
SM: Sucky Man
SW: Wife of Sucky Man - though not sucky herself
C: Chinese cashier - has an accent, but speaks impeccable English.
Me: A**hole in geek's clothing
SW: Oh no, look honey, they don't have the lobster special tonight.
SM: What? *checks specials menu board* Unbelievable. Un - f***ing - believable. What the hell is wrong with them? *he then walks up and cuts ahead of the line to talk to the cashier*
SM: How come you don't have the lobster special listed? *pointing to the specials menu* You had it last night.
C: Yes, we did have it. The lobster was very popular and we're sold out. I'm sorry for the inconvenience.
SM: *turning to talk to his wife* Can you believe this guy? Sold out of lobster. *now yelling at all of us in line* A restaurant in New England sold out of lobster. Un-f***ing-believable. *now back to the cashier* You're sold out of lobster? Well, you just lost my business. BYE!
SM heads out, but as he and his wife are passing me, he stage whispers "Damn slant eyes!". I go from slighly irked to seriously
in record time.
Me: *stealing his own tactics and speaking to the line & cashier* Yeah, a restaurant sold out of lobster is almost as unbelievable as a jackass in an SUV parking in the handicapped spot.
SM stops on his way out and turns back to me.
SM: What did you say, a**hole?
Me: I said that a restaurant running out of a popular dish is as un-bee-lee-vable as a jackass parking in a handicapped spot. A jackass with no handicapped plates or placard on display.
SM: You better shut your mouth, you loudmouth shmuck! I've had FOUR hips replaced and I have a VERY BAD back. And how would you know I don't have handicapped plates, you nosy s***?
Me: I pulled in behind you. I even checked for a placard. You don't have one and if you weren't leaving, I'd be calling the police to ensure you get a nice ticket to remember New England by, you racist f***. Or did you not intend that little stage whisper to be overheard by the rest of us?
SM flips me off and storms out the door. I follow just enough to poke my head out and point at his license plates. "Oh, look, a racist AND a liar."
SM yelled incoherently at me while getting into his SUV. Kind of a RAWR with rude gestures.
I know I shouldn't have riled him up so much, but he just pushed one button too many with me. I did apologize to the cashier for making a scene. He told me it was okay and the other guy was just being mean for no reason.
Minor Laundry Lunacy
A woman ran a washer full of blankets. When she opened the washer, the blankets came out in bits and pieces.
She called over the owners to make a complaint about the machine ruining her blankets and 'what are you going to do about it?'
I was curious, so stepped in to help pick up the myriad pieces of blanket. I managed to find one of the tags that said 'Dry Clean Only'
I thoughtfully handed it off to the owners. After a bit of heated discussion, the woman stormed out telling them they needed a sign explaining that the washing machines aren't for dry clean only items and that her she was going to call her attorney to 'make things right'.
Good luck with that one, lady.
Update: For those who might be interested, I asked yesterday if the woman from the first story came back for her laundry. Turns out she did. On Tuesday afternoon. And she was apparently quite put out that the owners hadn't dried or folded them, but simply stuffed them into a plastic bag. Apparently she also said she'll never be back.
So I expect to see her next Sunday.
Laundry EW
I'm chit chatting with the owner while my laundry is in the driers when a woman walks in and comes up to him. Judging by accent and the New York plates on her car, I'd say she's from NYC.
EW: Entitlement Whore extraordinaire
LO: Laundry Owner
Me: Mostly watching in amusement
Italics: My thoughts
EW: Excuse me! Do you work here?
LO: Yes, I'm the owner.
EW: Great. I need to get back to the city and your machines are just too slow. My clothes are in that machine. *points to a triple load washer* Just load them into the dryers and I'll pick them up later.
LO: I'm sorry, we don't do same day service on Sunday. And if you started the load, we don't finish it. It has to be under our control start to finish or we can't take responsibility for your clothes coming out alright. Personally, I'm glad he subscribes to the CYA rule.
EW: Well, I need this done. Fine, just dry them and fold them. I'll have someone pick them up during the week and I'll pay you back next month when I'm back in town. BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA. Seriously? I'm not sure how I managed to not laugh at her at this point.
LO: Sorry, but you didn't check your items in with us, so we can't do that for you. You can just put them in the dryer now, since the washer has stopped and then come back for them later.
EW: I just told you that I have to go back to the city. You just dry and fold my clothes and I'll call you later. *she turns and storms out of the laundromat, into her car, and goes screeching out of the plaza*
LO: *to me* I don't think she listened to a word I said.
Me: Yeah, I don't think so either. Going to dry her clothes?
LO: Not a chance. Don't know what I'll do with them, though.
Me: Toss them in a plastic bag and wait for her to call. Then tell her the clothes are still wet and starting to smell a bit.
LO: I just might do that.
Racist liar
I think there was a bit of suck on my part here, too. But I do so enjoy being an a**hole.
On my way home from playing cards with the guys, I was picking up dinner from one of our favorite Asian restaurants. They have awesome Chinese, Japanse (yay sushi!), and some decent American dishes, too. For the last 5 miles of the trip, I was stuck behind a massive SUV with Florida plates poking along at 25 MPH. The speed zones we were driving in ranged from 40 MPH to 55 MPH, which already left me a bit frustrated. Every time we hit a passing zone, there was a massive line of cars in the oncoming lane, of course.
We finally get to the restaurant, and who turns into the lot in front of me? Well, we're in the parking lot, how bad can it be, right?
SUV stops dead while the driver and passenger debate parking. All the spots next to building are full, except for one handicapped spot. All the spots directly across from the door are empty. The driving area between the two rows of spaces is maybe 15 - 20 feet wide. The passenger keeps pointing off to the spaces across from the building. Finally, they pull up and park 1/2 in the handicapped spot and 1/2 in the lined area between the handicapped spots for those that have the vans with the little elevators (is there a technical term for those that I don't know?)
By this time, I'd seen more than enough of the back of the SUV to know they didn't have handicapped plates. Still, I gave the driver the benefit of the doubt, thinking maybe they have a placard.
I pulled into a spot directly across from the door. I get out and as the older couple (mid to late 50's) in the SUV get out. I walk in behind them and take the chance to scan the windshield area of their vehicle for a handicapped sticker or placard. None to be seen. Still, I keep my mouth shut, planning on just telling the restaurant staff so they can deal with it.
We all get inside, I walk up to the counter to wait in line for my take out. The couple from the SUV look at the menu. And then it gets really sucky.
SM: Sucky Man
SW: Wife of Sucky Man - though not sucky herself
C: Chinese cashier - has an accent, but speaks impeccable English.
Me: A**hole in geek's clothing
SW: Oh no, look honey, they don't have the lobster special tonight.
SM: What? *checks specials menu board* Unbelievable. Un - f***ing - believable. What the hell is wrong with them? *he then walks up and cuts ahead of the line to talk to the cashier*
SM: How come you don't have the lobster special listed? *pointing to the specials menu* You had it last night.
C: Yes, we did have it. The lobster was very popular and we're sold out. I'm sorry for the inconvenience.
SM: *turning to talk to his wife* Can you believe this guy? Sold out of lobster. *now yelling at all of us in line* A restaurant in New England sold out of lobster. Un-f***ing-believable. *now back to the cashier* You're sold out of lobster? Well, you just lost my business. BYE!
SM heads out, but as he and his wife are passing me, he stage whispers "Damn slant eyes!". I go from slighly irked to seriously
in record time.Me: *stealing his own tactics and speaking to the line & cashier* Yeah, a restaurant sold out of lobster is almost as unbelievable as a jackass in an SUV parking in the handicapped spot.
SM stops on his way out and turns back to me.
SM: What did you say, a**hole?
Me: I said that a restaurant running out of a popular dish is as un-bee-lee-vable as a jackass parking in a handicapped spot. A jackass with no handicapped plates or placard on display.
SM: You better shut your mouth, you loudmouth shmuck! I've had FOUR hips replaced and I have a VERY BAD back. And how would you know I don't have handicapped plates, you nosy s***?
Me: I pulled in behind you. I even checked for a placard. You don't have one and if you weren't leaving, I'd be calling the police to ensure you get a nice ticket to remember New England by, you racist f***. Or did you not intend that little stage whisper to be overheard by the rest of us?
SM flips me off and storms out the door. I follow just enough to poke my head out and point at his license plates. "Oh, look, a racist AND a liar."
SM yelled incoherently at me while getting into his SUV. Kind of a RAWR with rude gestures.
I know I shouldn't have riled him up so much, but he just pushed one button too many with me. I did apologize to the cashier for making a scene. He told me it was okay and the other guy was just being mean for no reason.
Minor Laundry Lunacy
A woman ran a washer full of blankets. When she opened the washer, the blankets came out in bits and pieces.
She called over the owners to make a complaint about the machine ruining her blankets and 'what are you going to do about it?'I was curious, so stepped in to help pick up the myriad pieces of blanket. I managed to find one of the tags that said 'Dry Clean Only'
I thoughtfully handed it off to the owners. After a bit of heated discussion, the woman stormed out telling them they needed a sign explaining that the washing machines aren't for dry clean only items and that her she was going to call her attorney to 'make things right'.
Good luck with that one, lady.
Update: For those who might be interested, I asked yesterday if the woman from the first story came back for her laundry. Turns out she did. On Tuesday afternoon. And she was apparently quite put out that the owners hadn't dried or folded them, but simply stuffed them into a plastic bag.
Apparently she also said she'll never be back.So I expect to see her next Sunday.
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