I Want To Have My Salad AND EAT IT, TOO

Yeah, so it’s been awhile since I’ve offered up a good old fashioned rant for you. They used to be a trusty weapon in my blog fodder arsenal. I don’t know whether I’ve just had good Customer Service luck lately, or if I’ve developed more patience and understanding. I’ll allow you to draw your own conclusions.

Either way, the streak ended today. In a blaze of glory.

I planned a nice, pleasant lunch with my friend Nancy at our mutually favorite lunch destination – Marketplace Express. They have Diet Dr. Pepper for Nancy, and – MOST importantly – they make THE BEST SALAD EVER IN THE EXISTENCE OF MAN. The Chicken Berry Salad. Grilled chicken, strawberries, bacon, cashews, blueberry poppy seed dressing. (It comes with water chestnuts, but I order it without them.) It’s one of those MUST TRY kinda things. Sounds a little bizarre, but – and I can’t stress this enough – it is GOOD. We both order it. It’s heaven in a bowl with berries on top.

So anyway. Went to Marketplace Express for some salad and chatting.

Nancy ordered first.

Nancy: I’d like a Chicken Berry Salad with no water chestnuts.

Punk Kid Taking Our Order: Would you like the Regular Size or the Light Portion?

Nancy: (Licks lips in anticipation of the Chicken Berry fabulousness.) Oh, definitely the Regular.

Punk Kid: Wow – you’re brave.

Pause. Nancy and I exchange A Look.

Nancy: Umm. I’m not brave. I’m 8 and ½ months pregnant.

Punk Kid: Oh. Ok.

My turn to order.

Me: I’d like a Chicken Berry Salad with no water chestnuts. The regular size.

Punk Kid: Umm. You’re not pregnant.

Me: (While killing him with my eyes and silently reminding myself it would be unwise to jump across the counter and knock him senseless.) Nope.

Punk Kid: I wish I could eat that much.

Silence. I silently signed my credit card slip and headed for the nearest booth. Fuming.

Nancy broke the ice with her disbelief that I hadn’t jumped across the counter and knocked him senseless. And, while glaring at him from across the restaurant, I let her know just how badly I wanted to do just that. I wish I had had nicer things to say about Punk Kid. But I’m not here to lie to you.

Ok. Couple things.

First, it is NOT OK to comment on what other people are eating. (I’m choosing to ignore the fact that Punk Kid is male and we are both female. I mean, what year is it, you guys?) So – regardless of the gender of the players involved – commenting on either the quantity of food on my plate or speed at which I am eating it is all-in-all, not appropriate.

Also, I ordered A SALAD. And not one of those salads masquerading as something healthy, all covered in fried chicken and fatty dressing and cheese. (Note: I have NO ISSUE with “those” salads. The unhealthy kind. I am an equal opportunity eater.) It is one of the healthiest things you can order there. SALAD, people. With grilled chicken! And FRUIT! Punk Kid acted as if I’d ordered some MOUNTAIN of food. Some unrealistically gargantuan pile of foodstuff that only the Jolly Green Giant could handle in one sitting. Even if I had ordered one of everything on the menu and planned to eat it all myself – it’s still none of this guy’s business. If I want to have a triple cheeseburger with a side of bacon grease for lunch – I CAN.

It is Punk Kid’s job to sell food. And he’s probably encouraged to sell as much of it as possible. I’m guessing it’s probably not in his job description to discourage two women from upsizing their SALAD orders from the Light to Regular size for an extra $2 by suggesting that they are “brave” for eating that much food or by crudely commenting that he wishes he “could eat that much.”

Deep breath.

Ahh. That’s better. Nice to have that out of my system. As you were.

Comments

[Jennifer H-F]

What. A. Jerk. I would have throttled him.

[Leah W.]

You should complain to the manager! That kid deserves to be unemployed if he's going to be a jackass. There are plenty of non-jackasses who, I am sure, would love to have his job and would not under any circumstances ridicule anyone for ordering the regular (omg! regular!) salad.

I'm fuming right along with you!

[Nancy Bunch]

The post didn't let me down! You did a great job of replaying the ridiculousness of the situation.