You wouldn’t think that a request at the butt-crack of dawn (Ok, more like 8:30) to drive three hours and rush a forgotten passport to the airport would be greedily welcomed like a Starbuck’s Frappuccino to Britney Spear’s gullet, but it was.
Oh, how it was.
Yesterday, my husband followed through on shoving our anniversary plans into the garbage in favor of sushi (Which he doesn’t really like) and bowling (Ditto) with his department at work. The same department that he sees every single day. The same department that he lunches with every week on his own dime and every month on theirs. The same department that, while full of nice people, does NOT contain my “Magical Boobies” or a vagina that he is allowed relations with.
I hope that the time he spent was full of rainbows and bursts of diamond sparkles because there is not going to be a whole lot of warmth in our snug little cottage any time soon.
He came home and said, “Hey! Let’s grab some dinner!” I replied, “Hey! No thanks!”.
Maybe that is my bad, but at this point? Don’t care. I wasn’t trying to punish, I did not want to spend my night with someone who so easily tossed me aside. I’d rather be by myself with my computer and some Christmas music than eat a dinner that is only meant to placate me and prove he wasn’t totally abandoning the day. It all left a bad taste in my mouth, so I declined.
He did bring me a Diet Coke and a mouse for my laptop, which was nice.
Anyhoo, I know you want me to move off of this topic.
Besides, I’m sure that you are all dying to know how I spent the day instead because you think I am awesome and you hang on all of my awesome words. Really, I don’t even know where to begin because being me is a WHOLE LOT OF AWESOMENESS to try and segment into tiny, daily posts. I don’t know how I do it some days. (It’s probably because I’m, ya know, awesome.)
Sigh.
I spent the morning running to the rescue of my dear friend, Chelle. She is taking her family to Whistler, B.C. for a ski vacation over the Christmas holiday. In the shuffle, her son’s passport was left behind. So, glad of a diversion, I hopped in my Jetta and drove the hour and a half down to Salt Lake City.
It was lovely to see her before she flew out.
While I was in the city, I took some time to shop and browsed Barnes & Noble (Which I adore) and ate a divine lunch of Sushi (Ditto) with my beloved sister, Linny (Who I adore the MOST.)
All was well until the drive back.
There was standstill traffic on the freeway due to an accident and the eleventyhundred Diet Cokes that I consumed during lunch caught up with me in a big, ‘ole ugly way. The next 20 minutes of my life were full of pain and agony and trying to distract myself from thinking constantly about my overwhelming need to pee.
It didn’t help that I kept singing the following in my head: (To the tune of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony, if you please.)
“I need to pee…I need to pee…I need to pee, I need to pee, I need to pee..I need to pee, I need to pee I need to pee..I need to pee (I need to pee), I need to pee (I need to pee), I need to, NEED. TO. PEE!â€
After an eternity, I was able to get off of the freeway and stagger into the bathroom in the very nick of time. I really shouldn’t have made so much fun of my best friend in high school for doing “Pee-Pee Push ups” and lecturing me to do the same thing. What can I say? She wanted eleventyhundred children and didn’t want to be peeing her pants regularly by age thirty as a result. Now, THAT is thinking ahead.
Diet Coke will make you pee like a racehorse.
Speaking of Diet Coke, I have cut back on my habit of imbibing in the Dark Waters. This is not something that I should really get a pat on the back for because it wasn’t done on purpose. It happened because I went APE SHIT POSTAL in the middle of my favorite watering hole and now as a consequence, I will never step foot inside again.
Looking back on it, I never should have gone to the gas station that day.
It was the day before Thanksgiving and things were crazy around my house. Little did I know that it was also day one of what was to become “The Great, Hideous Illness of ‘07″ and that I would soon have three weeks of pain, illness and misery. I woke up with pain in my lungs and a cough. (“I think I’ve got the black lung, Pa!” ) and so I stayed in my pajama bottoms and t-shirt.
All day long, I rested in bed, chugging cough syrup and munching on vitamin C tablets, hoping for a miracle and that I would be well by Thanksgiving dinner.
Not.
So there I lay, like a mucous-infested bump on a log. Hacking, typing, blogging, sniffing. After awhile, I really wanted a Diet Coke. It was the only thing that sounded good. I was in a foul mood. I had haphazard pigtails from the day before, I was in my pj’s with no bra and mismatched slippers. I figured that since I wasn’t going INTO a store, just through the drive-through, I would be ok.
The only vehicle that was there for me to drive was “The Butt”. It is a humdinger of an station wagon that debuted the same year as E.T. It sort of rounded out my total white-trash look.
I drove to my favorite gas station. They have a drive up window. They charge you an extra dime for each item when you use it. While it is worth it, it adds up to quite a bit when you couple my fierce streak of lazy with as much D.C as I drink.
I drove to the drive through and waited. And waited. And waited.
Judy was working.
I.freaking.loathe.this.girl.
Judy had been working there for about three months. During that time my dislike grew, and grew, and GREW. She was constantly on her cell phone, ignoring you standing right in front of her as she chattered on and on and on and gave you looks of incredulous annoyance if you acted like you should actually receive service. Orders were wrong, change was always incorrect, and she had a gross habit of sitting on the counters and making the weirdest exclamations like “I have the HUGEST zit on my back right now!! Someone needs to pop it!”
She was one of the worst cashiers I have ever encountered and she was also the only employee at that store that I have ever disliked. She was particularly bad at the drive through window. Still, I held my tongue because there were other people that worked there and they were all great.
It WAS busy that day. There were 5 people at the counter and I was fine waiting for that. They left and she just kept helping people in line that arrived there after me.
She helped FIFTEEN PEOPLE that came in after I did.
Normally, I would have gone in or driven off, but this girl had already pissed me off so many times over the months I wanted to see how freaking long it was going to take her to even acknowledge that I and the three cars in line behind me even existed.
I was there for thirty.two.minutes.
Now, you need to know that I am a nice person. I do not like yelling, I do not like anger. I have never, EVER lost my temper in public. EVER. I can’t even send food back that sucks in restaurants because there is nothing that I hate more than public confrontations.
The mere thought of them makes me nauseated and anxious to the point that my nipples get hard with fear.
Yes. My nipples get hard with fear sometimes. I’m not really sure why that is, exactly. It’s actually odd that I even notice because…duh…I’m scared at the time. Something else to focus on I suppose. Actually, I should be glad that my nipples can get hard at all. If they can’t it is likely that you have inverted nipples and everyone should know and be cautious about them because they can be a sign of inflammatory breast cancer, which is horribly deadly and…
What? What’s that, you say?
Shut the hell up about “Nipples, this!” and “Inflammatory breast cancer, that!” and get ON with it already?
FINE, then! See if I ever talk to you about my nipples again, you ingrate!!
Where was I?
Oh…Fear of public confrontation.
My aforementioned fear of public confrontation ceased to exist for me by the time Judy finally came to the window. I didn’t even make eye contact because I was afraid that they would send out explosive death rays that would blow up the earth. Instead, I put my money firmly in her hand and snipped out in cold, even tones:
“I.would.like.a.Diet.Coke.PLEASE.”
I know. I wasn’t nice. She knew I was pissed. That is how I wanted it. It would have been fine if she would have just, you know, GIVEN ME THE DAMN SODA, ALREADY.
Nope.
In a voice that was seething with petulance, she said, “You don’t have to SCREAM at me, MA’AM”
Eight words.
EIGHT.
And the dam of ALL HOLY HELL broke loose and spewed forth onto the fertile fields of Cache Valley.
(Personally, I think it was the “Ma’am” part that sent me over the edge. Because who REALLY enjoys being a “Ma’am”?)
I told her that I “WASN’T SCREAMING!”
Which was true, but in a very, very short time, I WAS.
Screaming.
Not talking loudly.
Not yelling.
S-C-R-E-A-M-I-N-G.
LOUDLY.
(Do y’all know just how loud that is for me and my huge voice? FREAKING LOUD is the answer, for those who don’t know.)
Then the wild gesticulation started and it was a frigging free-for-all.
It escalated to the point that she threw my money back at me and slammed the drive through window.
At this point, did I calm down and just go home like my normally sane(er) self would have done on any other day?
NOOOOOOOOOOOO….
I drove around, parked haphazardly, flung open the door to my ‘83 wagon and LEFT IT LIKE THAT WITH THE MOTOR RUNNING and ran into the gas station in full on “TO THE PAIN!” mode.
At that point the HOLY HELL that occurred at the drive through was replaced with the ALMIGHTY, NUCLEAR WRATH OF ANGER AND DESTRUCTION!!!
It was like 33 years of repressed, bitter, venomous ANGER all released out of my body in one loud, ugly, terrible moment.
I threw the money back and screamed at her.
I demanded to see her manager and screamed at him.
Then I screamed some more at the woman who was behind me in the drive through line who came in to say that the “Poor attendant” shouldn’t be fired because I was a psychotic hose beast that was clearly disturbed.
Thing is, at that moment?
She was right.
I was standing there, sweating and panting in my pajamas and wildly unkempt hair with no bra on (Which matters because of that whole ‘Nipples hard with fear’ thing) and mismatched slippers. People probably thought I was totally strung out on meth.
I’m a little shocked that the police were not called in. At least if they had been I would have been throughly prepared thanks to the “Don’t Taze me, Bro!” guy.
I took a deep breath, apologized to the manager and got back into my still-running station wagon and drove home to cry.
I know that there are parts of this post that are humorous, but the situation was horrible.
I am so ashamed of myself. I regret my lack of self-control. I regret scaring the bejesus out of customers who probably thought I was going to pull out a handgun and go “Columbine” on their asses. You know, kinda like this:
(Thanks, Photoshop Dave!)
Luckily, there were no children in the store.
Whatever valid and just complaints that I had about this girl were lost in my anger and lashing out. I am beyond embarrassed and will never set foot in that gas station again.
I started my period the next morning. A-ha. It was early and unexpected but the day before I start has gotten worse and worse over the years. I have never, ever responded like this. I don’t entirely blame it on PMS because there was a major event of pain and anger and frustration that happened around my birthday and it sent me in a bit of a spiral about my entire life. I am working through tons and tons of past issues that frankly? I have a lot of suppressed anger about.
It’s sad that I let it loose on innocent people.
Not that Judy was innocent, but still…She did NOT deserve what I dished out.
As for her? She’s still there. The best employee they had quit because they wouldn’t fire her. Everyone was appalled on MY behalf because they cannot stand working with her and they know me to be a kind, friendly, and courteous customer. I found out later that she has had at least a dozen complaints about her and many costumers won’t go there anymore because of her.
I’m trying to keep it in perspective and look on the bright side, which is that this is a big clue that I have got to deal with some issues and take preventative steps to deal with my whacked out hormonal cycle. It is also good that I have cut back on a really vicious and out-of-control habit and that my pocket book is a little fatter because it isn’t all being poured into a 44 oz. cup.
Still…
I feel so horrible and embarrassed about this and it has almost been a month. I know that there will be very few of you who have lost it to this level, but if there is ANYONE out there that has even come close? I would love to hear from you so that I can feel a bit less hideous about myself.
If you’ll all excuse me, I have to go curl up under my blankie in the fetal position…
Angella says:
While I myself have not dealt with the crazy PMS hose beast, two of the closest people to me have.
I emailed Jessica (Kerflop) and she gave me her natural remedy. I’ll email it to you.
xoxoxoxo
December 20th, 2007 at 12:18 am
Rachel says:
Seriously, don’t feel bad. Everyone has ape shit days. And it always makes for a funny anecdote. :O)
December 20th, 2007 at 12:24 am
Kelli says:
I had a day like that the day AFTER Thanksgiving. I usually keep things to myself but this woman was standing talking on her cell phone in the middle of an empty parking space and my patience was worn thin. She would not move and proceeded to yap while blocking traffic. So I leaned over and honked the horn (hubby was driving). To make a long story short, it pissed her off and I almost got in a beat up knock down fight in the Target parking lot. My husband had to physically restrain me and her. I was going for her. Still to this day I know I could have taken the bitch if he hadn’t intervened. Good ole PMS. We all have our days.
December 20th, 2007 at 12:59 am
Amanda Regan (madamspud169) says:
I’ve had a row in my local store which ended with me and the cashier throwing stock at each other while screaming real foul abuse at each other.
I don’t regret it for a minute, she told me in her exact words “it’s no wonder you look shit with a brat like him”. Yes, I looked like crap but all my son was doing was playing pat-a-cake on my bottom and believe me I’m so used to that by now that it feels weird if there isn’t a hand patting my behind.
December 20th, 2007 at 7:34 am
glittersmama says:
Judy sounds like a quality employee.
I hope that you are able to find a new gas station that you can call “home.”
December 20th, 2007 at 8:13 am
Sharon says:
Wow! Remind me again not to tick you off!!! I applaud your courage in recounting this incident!!!!
My PMS days are LONG over, having all my female innards removed in two separate operations…first, uterus, then ovaries, because of large, very painful cysts… SOOOOO…..by 35 I was on hormone replacements . Fun…NOT! But no more periods!!! Hooray!!!!!!!!!!!
I can’t believe that girl wasn’t fired…Where is the justice???
December 20th, 2007 at 9:02 am
Angela says:
((hugs))
Judy sucks.
It’s okay that you lost your shit. You had a lot going on and 30 minutes in a drive threw lane?? You were probably fuming for the entire time and that lead to it all just coming out. Don’t beat yourself up about it.
It might be good though to go in there when you are even tempered and she isn’t working to talk to the manager about things. I mean you had a valid reason to be upset and maybe some things elevated it, but still they need to realize this person is toxic to their establishment.
Plus you shouldn’t feel like you can’t go somewhere. (This, however coming from someone who hasn’t been to the Gap in 7 months.)
December 20th, 2007 at 9:02 am
Justme says:
I’ve never had a face to face blow out with someone but I have over the phone. I loath AT&T customer service. After a huge bill that I wanted explaining on; the customer service woman kept calling me ma’am (I hate that too.) Then when I started to raise my voice she said don’t talk to me like I’m a child. Last time I checked I didn’t use THOSE words when talking to a child. I was so pissed by the end of the conversation I’m surprised I didn’t have an anuresum (sp?).
December 20th, 2007 at 9:13 am
Amber says:
Sweetie,
I went off in a similar manner on the Carls Jr. gal last year. I can’t remember just why I was so pissed but I am sure it must have been justified…errr.., right?
I think this time of year is just stressful, plus the failed anniversary plans added to it all. I had my meltdown last week wherein I called hubby saying, “Talk me down off the ledge.” That is code for I’M GONNA LOOOOOOOOOOOSE IT!
December 20th, 2007 at 9:36 am
ThatOneGuy says:
that is the funniest thing I have read in a long time…. the image of free-swinging boobs with lethal points almost made me spew my coffee.
So thanks for that!
You should have offered to engrave something while you were there!
December 20th, 2007 at 10:06 am
Jill - GlossyVeneer says:
I’m sorry you’re so upset about losing it at the gas station. I would probably be just as upset too. But of course, sometimes I think it might be good to let it all out… I hold everything in so frequently and lately I feel 29 years of pressure wanting to explode. Maybe if I wait until 33 I’ll have a real humdinger of an eruption!
And the nipple talk? Too funny.
December 20th, 2007 at 10:33 am
witchypoo says:
I lost it with a co-worker in the service department of the car dealership we worked at. He hit me. That’s when I lost it, and I learned that you actually can SEE RED. I couldn’t hit him back because I couldn’t see him, but if any customers wanted to be CUSS-tomers, they hit the jackpot that day.
I had to go to work the next day too.
December 20th, 2007 at 10:40 am
jen says:
Loralee. She TOTALLY had it coming. I think what you did was awesome! In your awesomeness, you have never BEEN so awesome and to yell and scream at some stupid girl who is obviously a total UN awesome person. And, awesomeness like ours does not deserve to be in the same room with strippers like Judy. Eff Judy. Judy sucks. Im having a t shirt made.
December 20th, 2007 at 11:25 am
Erika says:
call me and I’ll tell you about my most embarrassing moment eva. good times.
December 20th, 2007 at 2:12 pm
jess says:
L
M
A
O
December 20th, 2007 at 3:50 pm
Holly says:
I did something very very very similar at a Burger King. That is all.
Love you LL
December 20th, 2007 at 4:09 pm
hairyshoefairy says:
That is hilarious! Well, except for the fact that Judy, the obviously stellar employee of the month, is still working there and you can no longer buy DC there. That part totally sucks. I’m glad you let her have it. I want to do that to so many horrible customer service people here. Usually I just give them the cold annoyance you started with and they give me the “what’s-your-problem-lady” look.
December 20th, 2007 at 5:09 pm
Lisa says:
The zit on the back is disgusting. Clearly there is something wrong with Judy.
December 20th, 2007 at 5:13 pm
Vanessa says:
I must pay more attention next time I throw a wobbler and see if it’s PMT-related.
I have totally flipped my lid on a number of occassions, however, my common denominator is usually fear. I have a huge irrational fear of places like piers, steep stairs, cliffs… you know, places where one could plummet to one’s death in a matter of seconds. When my husband tries to humour me into overcoming that fear by facing it, I flip. I won’t go into the ugly details but, let’s just say it’s all too incredible hulkish indeed.
Vx
December 21st, 2007 at 5:41 am
MaryEllen says:
I will no longer go there either because of that wench. I could call her other things and be justified, but Santa is coming soon and dont want to make him mad! She is incompetent, rude, disrespectful, gross, unprofessional, moronic, slow, lazy and the list goes on. Heaven help the poor person who asks for a beer at the drive up window. Other employees say that if she has to go to the cooler for it she shakes it up before she gives it to them. I cannot say where the best diet coke is as I drink diet Pepsi, the drink of goddesses, but I now go to Top Stop. I will not go back there, not even for self pay gas pumps! Nope! You are fine! You stood up for all the customers who had to deal with her crap! Lets go to Mooches!
December 21st, 2007 at 9:37 am
jasonthe says:
I had to come back and read this again.
Still as funny as the first time.
Looking forward to the “Judy Sucks” t-shirts.
December 21st, 2007 at 12:27 pm
witchypoo says:
Scroo that! Complain to management, in writing about Judy. Why should you have to avoid a place because of a nasty clerk?
If management has any sense, they will grok that she is chasing customers away.
Get down with your uppity self, I say.
December 21st, 2007 at 2:26 pm
Doug says:
“I was standing there, sweating and panting in my pajamas and wildly unkempt hair with no bra on (Which matters because of that whole ‘Nipples hard with fear’ thing) and mismatched slippers. People probably thought I was totally strung out on meth.”
This is an image that will never leave me. Have I ever freaked out? I’m sure I have, but not to that extent! But it was sort of a culmination of all things for you.
You have to lay off the DC a bit! I have and, after the initial withdrawl, I’m doing fine. It’s only cold DC that makes you pee, though. But the bottle between your legs for a while, then drink. It’s a little drink I learned while driving. Sometimes I just do it for the thrills.
Your friends’ll love Whistler. I’ve never been, but I’m watching this decent Canadian drama called, well, Whistler. If that show is any indication, at least one of them will get lots on a mountainside, another will embezzle money from a resort and yet another will blowout their knee during the Olympic snowboarding qualifications. I wish them lots of drama!
December 22nd, 2007 at 12:26 am
coolbeans says:
I’m hesitant to say Judy didn’t deserve the your fit because I kind of think she did.
I have this kind of PMS rage. It gets worse as I get older, too. I have to separate myself from my children a couple of days a month so I don’t really lose it. It’s scary. I wish there was something I could take for just those two days, but I haven’t found anyone or anything to help me out there.
December 22nd, 2007 at 7:05 am
Pink says:
judy was probably sleeping with the manager or owner, was a relative of either one of them, or the manager/owner is a total moron who needs to be committed for their own safety.
i’ve gone off on people before b/c of poor service. the manager of applebees apologized for his behavior when i told him he was rude and slower than heck and he got my order wrong. and he was the manager!!
December 23rd, 2007 at 2:21 pm
Occidental Girl says:
I am so impressed! At least you didn’t take it in the arse like most of us do. I get the suppressed anger bit, and how it can come streaming forth when provoked.
Hopefully they’ll fire that girl and then you can go back.
December 24th, 2007 at 12:57 pm
Alecia says:
Oh, Loralee, I feel like I’ve found a “kindred spirit” as Anne of Green Gables says (okay, I’m a dork). You post had me cracking up, mostly because I saw so much of myself in it. I’d have probably (no, DEFINITELY) done the same thing. Don’t feel guilty. Sometimes it takes something drastic like that for the Judy’s of the world to wake up. Unfortunately, some of them never do, but others at least get perturbed enough to get out of the way.
{virtual hugs sent your way}
December 30th, 2007 at 8:34 pm