Ugh. On a truly awful day, waking up from a nap I couldn’t take time for but was unavoidable because I was non-functional, I suddenly realized, almost four hours too late, what was the ethical reaction to a situation I encountered earlier.
Today was another day of the sort I have had too often since Grace died: pressured from the opening gun, discovering a festering problem, being trapped in automated phone, consumer assistance, oppressive technology Hell, falling further behind on essential deadlines I cannot afford to fall behind on, and in the midst of it all, dealing with a needy dog. When I reached lunch late (after skipping breakfast), I just couldn’t bear the thought of another serving of left-overs or another tuna sandwich. I decided that I would indulge myself and splurge on an extravagance, or what counts as one in this humiliating chapter of what I laughingly call my life: I would get a “yummy”—sort of— fast food lunch. Not any place good, mind you, like Wendy’s, KFC or Grace’s favorite, Popeyes. Definitely not McDonald’s…but I could still get a few crispy tacos for under 10 bucks at Taco Bell. It was after the lunch rush, too, so even though it was a 10-15 minute drive to the place, it wouldn’t be too much wasted productive time: my “lunch hour” would take just 45 minutes, only a little but more than I typically allow myself.
I pulled into the short line at “the Bell”‘s drive-thru, got one car, then another, then another behind me, and the line just stopped. When I reached the speaker, a woman started to take my order, then said, “I’m sorry, please wait!” and disappeared for 10 minutes. Then she came back, said “I’m sorry!” again, and disappeared again. Finally I put in my order, noticing that the price for the three lousy tacos was now over ten dollars but it was impossible to back out.
It took almost 30 minutes more to get my food. Under different circumstances I would have just left, but I was starving, and I was also trapped in line; the cars behind me were honking. When I got up to the window, I was unrestrained in my annoyance, beginning, “Wait, was I mistaken? Isn’t this “fast food?” An obviously distessed woman in some kind of Islamic attire said, “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry! I’m the only one here, and I’m serving the counter, taking the orders on the mic and handling the carry-out! I’m sorry!”
I finally got my (overpriced )lunch, resolving I would not have this “treat” again, and paid her saying, “They need to pay you more!” and pulled over to eat before the tacos got cold. By the time I returned home, my carefully planned 45 minute lunch hour had taken an hour and a half. The whole experience made me feel stupid, inefficient, and broke. I tried to do something productive, but the bed beckoned.
When I woke up, I immediately realized that I should have given that poor woman a ten buck tip. I almost drove back, but it was getting to rush hour, and the way my days have been going, she would probably have ended her shift.
Failure all around. Crap.