There's a Sucker Born Every Minute

Some days you get home and you need a glass of wine. I hope today isn't one of those days (though typeface searching gets to you) because Kate's gone and thus I would be drinking alone. But you know, it's not always the fact that your quick design assignments took over four hours or you spent the entire day at your internship folding 370 blads (like trailers for cookbooks!) into UPS packages and sending them out, making your mind numb to all that it sees.

I like to think of myself as an understanding person who doesn't create scenes. But I went to the food court for a break, ironically, from cookbooks. A $7 salad from Au Bon Pain? But where do they hide the dressing, and does it cost extra? A plate of greasy but delicious Chinese? On my way, I see Sbarro and a paper that reads: "Special on Philly cheese steak, stromboli, or stuffed pizza $4.99." Yeah, I have a weakness for stromboli... but what does this placard mean? The stromboli and stuffed pizza on the menu are $4.59... does the special come with a drink? With breadsticks? With a big hug? (It doesn't say.)

It's crowded, but I get in line and ask the guy for stromboli "like in the special," pointing at the paper. He points to the types I can get; I go with sausage. Next guy asks what side I want... does it come with the special? He assures me it does. Cash register time. I'm armed with my stromboli, my ziti side, and a Dr. Pepper poured when I asked if it came with the special and he concurred. A lady rings it up as $8.18. Which is not $4.99 plus tax. "Oh, isn't this the special? I was told that it came with a side and drink," I rebut. "No, this is the combo. Only number one is the special." #1 on the menu is regular pizza -- none of the three things listed on the paper at the front of the line. So I get angry and hold up the line and keep the next guy from getting his drink because I was only here for whatever the special might be. That's fine if that's not the special, but don't delude me along the way into thinking it was. I gesture toward the paper and read it aloud for everybody to hear (and again, I'm not a make-a-scene guy, but honestly). Nope; cash register KGB says "number one" is the only special.

I felt bad later for being so upset about it, and don't think that I'm hating on this cash register woman, who didn't really speak English and surely wasn't at fault. But attracting people with a deal and then not giving it to them? Duplicity is the American way. The reason I got in line was to avoid taking out a mortgage on lunch. Of course I gave up, meeting nothing but blank states behind the counter, even from ziti guy and Dr. Pepper themselves. I wanted food, so I paid all $8.18 for it. What happened to the tenet of customer service? In the move-'em-down-the-line formula, it's easy for people to get things wrong and then take no blame. I'm sure they get paid less than my lunch cost per hour, so I can't be angry at them. But I don't think I'm being unreasonable here. Moral of the story: Sometimes you just gotta suck it up. New plan: bring lunch to work on Monday and Wednesday. Buy a soda from the vending machine. At least if that screws you over, you can pound it to death.