(no subject)
I like where I live. But in this area, along with many "normal" people there also lives a strange race of people with whom I cannot relate to. At all. They are Mainliners. They are rich. They feel entitled to many things, at your expense, and they are shameless. It's not that I don't get rich. Or shameless, for that matter. But I don't understand why you can have so much wealth and so little...er...class.
I encounter these people all the time at work. Case in point, this evening:
I'm working the demo station, sampling an easy pasta recipe. It's near time for me to close up. A woman in her 60s, with perfectly coiffed hair and dressed in a tailored navy skirt suit walks up, tries some. Likes it. Great.
Lady: "I'd like to take some to my mother, who's waiting in the car."
Me: "Sure! Go ahead!" (There are several samples there for the taking.)
Lady: "Will you fill up a cup so I don't have to come back?"
Me: (arching a eyebrow) "Oookay." (And I add two more noodles to a sample cup. Aren't I proud to have this job?)
She leaves. For a minute. Comes back.
Lady: "I dropped my fork. Can I take another?"
Me: "Yeah, no problem."
She leaves. For a minute. Comes back.
Lady: "I dropped my fork again. I need to find a better way to hold this. Can you put a fork in the cup - my hands are full." She attempts a charming smile. Fails.
She leaves. For a minute. Comes back. No cup in her hands this time. Gets a coffee sample. Leaves. For a minute. Comes back. Gets *another* coffee sample.
By now, I've closed down the main demo. I have a container of cookies behind the counter that I plan to put out, but I need to find tongs first, so I go back into the kitchen/break room. I jump on the chance to wash a few dishes, too, because by this time I'm feeling desperate to get away from this woman and I'm hoping she'll leave if I'm absent for a few minutes. Wrong. She waited for me. She waited 5 minutes so she could eat a piece of cookie! She could buy the freaking cookie aisle!
Lady: (leaning over the counter, reaching for the cookies) "Are you going to put these out?"
Me: "Soon. I'm looking for tongs."
Lady: (Impatiently) "Can you just give me two so I can give one to my mother?"
At this point my facial expression can only fall somewhere between plastic smile and "I'll give you a cookie...shoved through your eye socket," but I snap on a glove, thrust two cookies at her, and run back into the kitchen to fix my pride that is hemorrhaging out.
That's right folks. There's a whole race of these people.
I encounter these people all the time at work. Case in point, this evening:
I'm working the demo station, sampling an easy pasta recipe. It's near time for me to close up. A woman in her 60s, with perfectly coiffed hair and dressed in a tailored navy skirt suit walks up, tries some. Likes it. Great.
Lady: "I'd like to take some to my mother, who's waiting in the car."
Me: "Sure! Go ahead!" (There are several samples there for the taking.)
Lady: "Will you fill up a cup so I don't have to come back?"
Me: (arching a eyebrow) "Oookay." (And I add two more noodles to a sample cup. Aren't I proud to have this job?)
She leaves. For a minute. Comes back.
Lady: "I dropped my fork. Can I take another?"
Me: "Yeah, no problem."
She leaves. For a minute. Comes back.
Lady: "I dropped my fork again. I need to find a better way to hold this. Can you put a fork in the cup - my hands are full." She attempts a charming smile. Fails.
She leaves. For a minute. Comes back. No cup in her hands this time. Gets a coffee sample. Leaves. For a minute. Comes back. Gets *another* coffee sample.
By now, I've closed down the main demo. I have a container of cookies behind the counter that I plan to put out, but I need to find tongs first, so I go back into the kitchen/break room. I jump on the chance to wash a few dishes, too, because by this time I'm feeling desperate to get away from this woman and I'm hoping she'll leave if I'm absent for a few minutes. Wrong. She waited for me. She waited 5 minutes so she could eat a piece of cookie! She could buy the freaking cookie aisle!
Lady: (leaning over the counter, reaching for the cookies) "Are you going to put these out?"
Me: "Soon. I'm looking for tongs."
Lady: (Impatiently) "Can you just give me two so I can give one to my mother?"
At this point my facial expression can only fall somewhere between plastic smile and "I'll give you a cookie...shoved through your eye socket," but I snap on a glove, thrust two cookies at her, and run back into the kitchen to fix my pride that is hemorrhaging out.
That's right folks. There's a whole race of these people.