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.
I know exactly who and where you are describing, and I whole-heartedly agree.
ReplyDeleteit is amazing to me that they are still in business--the pastries were really not impressive and the people were so. fucking. rude. it must be the aura of "special" or "precious" or something along those lines that convinces people they are eating something worthy. will never recommend them for anything--daylight donuts is actually quite good, anyway!
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