significant other moved us to a tiny little town in the middle of bumbledy-fuck-nowhere about a year and a half ago--something about a job and a better education for things 1 and 2...all that crap...i wasn't really paying attention. but, while significant other and things 1 and 2 are off betterin' their learning and workin' at that awesome mill, anti-respectively, i'm left to negotiate said tiny little town and some of its more-challenging-than-not denizens.
this morning was no exception.
despite living in a place with at least as many fat-assed hominems as any other, this town lacks a dunkin' donuts, donutland, krispy kreme (are they even in business anymore?) or any other purveyor of frittered goodness, save the local grocery store or the truckstop down the interstate. and those aren't options. so imagine my surprise when i learned of a bakery--a locally-owned small business, no less!--that made donuts on saturday mornings (only) to fill the void. i immediately mapquested that fucker and this morning set out to conquer.
i find it--it's tiny and it's in a HOUSE! squee for supporting the local economy!--so i park my comparatively ginormous SUV in a snowbank out back, and trudge through the drifts to get in. three tables! cute little handpainted signs! hmmm...surly grad student working the counter? $4 petit fours? $2 donuts? $3 muffins? oh well--it's LOCAL and SPECIAL so i'll do my civic duty and try them out anyway. the baker bitch pokes her head out from the kitchen and sneers at me after she heard me blithely order one of everything on the top row of the display (don't judge--it's my first time here and i have no idea what significant other or things 1 and 2 will eat when i get back). surly grad student huffs at me, grabs a ginormous box and starts folding it to fill with locally-produced goodies, only to glare at me and say, "you know, you should really call ahead if you're going to place an order this big."
i asked for a total of four items--that's how many were on the top shelf.
and now i'm having to apologize for buying their fucking food. apparently i am not treating these precious baked goods with the reverence they allegedly deserve. surly grad student must have misheard my order because she's putting two of everything in the box...whatever, that only makes eight, they're not that big, and i'm still on the i'm-doing-my-civic-duty-by-shopping-at-a-small-business buzz, so i don't correct her. i even throw in two more pain au chocolates that were on the counter. suck it, bitch!
so i go to check out and i'm suddenly worried they don't take credit cards. "um, do you take plastic?" "of course," respondeth little miss surly rolling her dead eyes at me. i hand her the card only to have her announce to the mostly empty room, "it is DECLINED. your card is NO GOOD." the couple sitting at one of the three tables in the room, crouching over their shared $4 petit four and $2 nonrefillable cups of coffee, tsk audibly. fortunately, i have a spare card, which works fine. baker bitch is now staring at me from the back to get the fuck out of her inestimable small business.
and the irony of this all this fuckery? the baked goods were mediocre at best--i could have whipped up the same exact thing here without the attitude (okay, that's a lie--i'd probably still have the attitude). i probably would have been in an equal position, gastronomically, had i supported the truckstop bakery.
i just love small town living.