It’s very often that we run into a situation where we’re kicked in the ass instead of serviced as customers should be. For example, last week when I had revisions to my salad, the waitress sighed and acted completely put out. Oh, Daddy made you get a job because he realized you’ll probably live off him for the rest of your life? BOO MF’in HOO!! Buck-up, Blondie and get me a free brownie while you’re at it, BITCH! Or perhaps the woman at the dry cleaners who looked at my white blouse that I had dribbled (poured an entire glass of Pinot Noir while snort-laughing) on and said, “You shouldn’t wear white since you spill so much.” Listen woman, aren’t I the customer here? Don’t I pay you like $20 bucks to rub some bleach on a white shirt? I’m so sorry if you’re back there with a scrub board while I’m living life and indulging in mother nature’s fruits… in liquid form. Cry me a river and scrub my shirt, Bitch!! Chop, chop! And when you’re done with that, I have some WHITE pants that have grease stains on the knee from when I perched my burrito there.

Yes, we’ve all ran into bad service and wished we did something about it, instead, some of us (me) just sit there silently then blog about it. However, my girl, Lindsey, decided to speak up and put a whip on some deli-workers! Way to tame that horse, Lindsey!! Make them cut that meat… uhhh.. what? Nevermind, here’s her story…

On a random weekday, let’s say it was Tuesday at 11 am, the Wal-Mart deli was anything but busy. But, of course there was one woman waiting on everyone while two co-workers did everything possible to look busy at doing nothing (sound familiar to anyone?) After about 5 minutes of me awkwardly peeping around the counter and looking over the scales and trying to quietly give the workers “the look” while remaining, polite…something in me snapped. About this time, another customer walked up next to me, waited for about 30 seconds, and then asks me, “I guess those two are prepping for lunch or something while the other lady waits on everyone?” I don’t know what grabbed a hold of me, but I loudly say, “Or they are just f***ing avoiding eye contact because they are afraid they might have to do their f***ing jobs!” Silence fell over everyone, customers and workers, and everyone looked at me. The lady next to me smiled the greatest “I love that you just did that” smile I have ever seen.
I calmly asked for my pound of cracked pepper turkey breast, waited for it, said thank you, and left.
I felt like I had just won a gold medal. Or at least an honorable mention.