BoBblog
Tuesday, October 14, 2003
 
Last night a friend stopped by toward the end of work and told me that a friend of hers from out of town was visiting, that it was his last night in town, and so we had to show him a good time. Therefore, after work I headed over to the Red Room and we all drank some. Halfway through the said drinking, my abovementioned friend mentioned that she and her friend both needed rides to the airport the next morning. I agreed without thinking, being the (warning: passive aggressive shitstorm ahead!) NICE GUY that I am.

So I got up all early the next day and drove over. Halfway to the airport, my friend realized that she had read her ticket wrong, seeing the arrival time as the departure, and had in fact already missed her flight. She called the airline on her celphone to get info on next flight out.

She gets a later flight still half an hour earlier than she expected to leave. I accelerate through the parkway traffic.

Get home, laze around for a bit, go to work. Cute customer is there when I arrive, but I'm too frazzled to even try (split infinitive! call the grammar cops!) talking to her. Besides, she's there with a guy and I find the body language... offputting? troubling? I hug a cup of coffee and watch the Sox/Yankees game.

My Sox lose.

Cute customer leaves without saying goodbye (though she does wave to me at one point)

Our manager was on a sizeabke renovation project, so we had to run around cleaning up dust on top of our regular duties.

Tired and grumpy.

I spill a 3/4 full container of strawberries in syrup (for smoothies, yo) all over the floor. Mop, clean... have sudden realization that even though the Cubs are up by 3 points in the seventh inning, they are doomed. It must be so, with the day I'm having.

And it is so. 8 unanswered points.

Doom.

Shortly thereafterm, our N\new co-owner showed up, and I had to plaster a happy face over my incredibly pissy mood while he rattled off all the things we had to stop doing (no more throwing out stale pastries at the end of the day! Too wasteful! Where will I get breakfast now?). Until he finally, mercifully, left.

As soon as I finish cleaning the espresso machine (3 minutes before closing), a customer comes in and orders an Americano.

Coworker and her girlfriend bicker throughout closing.

Have tomorrow off. Must put this wretched day behind me. Single-malt scotch helps greatly in this quest.
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