Okay, raise your hand…how many of you make the AM java-run every day? This is a practice foreign to me. It kills me to hand over hard-earned money in the name of convenience. But my friend Kim called yesterday, and she was having a mental meltdown. It was a no-brainer – she needed an Iced Cappuccino in the worst way.
I pull up to the drive-thru speaker. “Tim Horton’s” (long pause) “Place your order when you’re ready.” I order my drinks, asking for one lowfat. “We don’t have skim milk, is 2% okay?” Well, guess it’ll have to be. “$5.32, pull around”. No pleasantries. No polite banter. Just all-too-typical teenage surliness. And by now I’m a little miffed. While in some parts of the country, this would be considered a cordial exchange. Not so in Smalltown Ohio.
It’s clear that Timmy doesn’t pay enough for charm school.
Off to the window. The girl hands me one leaking, overfull, very sloppy drink. While I’m trying to clean it up enough to put it in the cup holder, she’s all but throwing the second one at me. Does she apologize? Offer a napkin, when she sees me using an article of clothing to wipe the cup off? A drink carrier? Noooo. Oh, and then she forgets the straws.
So, after pulling away from the window a little and getting the mess into a slightly more manageable position, I drive off to the playground where I’m meeting Kim and her kids. And then the ill-fitted lid pops off her drink. All over my floormat. ARGH!
Gotta love this…Andrew’s in the back seat, watching me turning red and sputtery and trying to wipe that slushy sugar-caffeine concoction off my floor. And he throws me a pearl. “Mommy, next time we need coffee, we can just make it at home. That would be a good idea.” At four, he’s already light years ahead of his mom…
Tim and I clearly don’t get along. We have a “history”. The last time I patronized, I ordered a sandwich to take to my husband at work. The counter girl took my order, and my money, with plastic gloves on - and then turned around and made Yasar's food with the same gloves on. Yuck. Yuckyuckyuck.
And I never wanted to bring out the big guns, but Timmy, you leave me no choice. Your doughnuts aren’t even that good. Walmart’s feel fresher, taste better, and cost less.
Mr. Horton, we are sooooo over.
I pull up to the drive-thru speaker. “Tim Horton’s” (long pause) “Place your order when you’re ready.” I order my drinks, asking for one lowfat. “We don’t have skim milk, is 2% okay?” Well, guess it’ll have to be. “$5.32, pull around”. No pleasantries. No polite banter. Just all-too-typical teenage surliness. And by now I’m a little miffed. While in some parts of the country, this would be considered a cordial exchange. Not so in Smalltown Ohio.
It’s clear that Timmy doesn’t pay enough for charm school.
Off to the window. The girl hands me one leaking, overfull, very sloppy drink. While I’m trying to clean it up enough to put it in the cup holder, she’s all but throwing the second one at me. Does she apologize? Offer a napkin, when she sees me using an article of clothing to wipe the cup off? A drink carrier? Noooo. Oh, and then she forgets the straws.
So, after pulling away from the window a little and getting the mess into a slightly more manageable position, I drive off to the playground where I’m meeting Kim and her kids. And then the ill-fitted lid pops off her drink. All over my floormat. ARGH!
Gotta love this…Andrew’s in the back seat, watching me turning red and sputtery and trying to wipe that slushy sugar-caffeine concoction off my floor. And he throws me a pearl. “Mommy, next time we need coffee, we can just make it at home. That would be a good idea.” At four, he’s already light years ahead of his mom…
Tim and I clearly don’t get along. We have a “history”. The last time I patronized, I ordered a sandwich to take to my husband at work. The counter girl took my order, and my money, with plastic gloves on - and then turned around and made Yasar's food with the same gloves on. Yuck. Yuckyuckyuck.
And I never wanted to bring out the big guns, but Timmy, you leave me no choice. Your doughnuts aren’t even that good. Walmart’s feel fresher, taste better, and cost less.
Mr. Horton, we are sooooo over.
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