It was, basically, a perfect day. Not a cloudless sky, quite, but I like a few clouds in the sky for contrast. Sunny, low eighties all day, not humid, nice breeze. If there’s a way for South Bend to have a better day in July I can’t imagine what it might have been like.
I was at OtherJob, expecting a busy day, an expectation that was, more or less, fulfilled.
I had the following conversation one thousand times today:
Ring ring!
“<other job>, how may I help you?”
“Yeah, are you guys open?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, thanks!”
Click.
Lemme explain something, Internet. First of all, OtherJob is an outdoor family destination. If you can’t figure out that a place that does 70% of its business for the year in June, July and August is open at 4:00 PM on a Thursday on what will probably prove to be the nicest day of the year, you may in fact be too stupid to use the phone. Yes, you morons, we’re fucking open. Look outside! Of course we’re fucking open, what the hell is wrong with you?
But even. Sometimes shit happens, right? Maybe we lost power, or the sewer exploded again, or maybe everywhere else you’ve been to today has been inexplicably closed and you’re starting to wonder if there’s something wrong with the universe. Or you live forty miles away and you just want to be sure. That’s okay! I mean, you can probably safely jump to a conclusion on this one, but it’s okay!
Here is how that conversation should go, guys:
Ring ring!
“<other job>, how may I help you?”
“Oh, hi, I was just calling to make sure you guys were open.”
“Yep! We close at (time.)”
“Okay, thanks!”
Click.
Alternately, instead of admitting that you’d just called to make sure we were open, you could ask about closing time or the prices or something. Or just hang up! That’s actually okay too. Because, see, if we answered the fucking phone, it means that we’re open. We don’t pay employees to sit around in a closed building and answer the phone to tell people that we aren’t here. No one does that! It doesn’t make any goddamn sense! Seriously, what the hell did you think was going on here?
You goddamn idiot.
Sigh. Seriously, one thousand times today.
Now that I’m done griping about customers, lemme take a minute and thank a couple, because it was kinda rude for me to horn in on that couple’s private conversation at the picnic table just because I heard the words “bacon” and “peanut butter” in the same sentence, and when you explained that you were actually talking about a bacon peanut butter jalapeno burger, and where I could get such a wonderful-sounding thing, you became my very best friends for ever, and I wish I had gotten your names and addresses so that I can babysit your kids or something. Because holy shit bacon peanut butter jalapeno burger. Oh my god.
Dinner was good tonight, y’all.
Edit, maybe one minute after hitting “Publish”: I will say, however, that bacon peanut butter jalapeno burger farts are not something that I’m hoping to have as part of my life for the rest of the night. I really don’t want to sleep on the couch.
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