“Stop global whining.”
The other evening my husband decided to take me out for a burger. Actually, I asked him if he’d like to take me out for a burger or cook his own dinner. I always allow him to make the decisions in our marriage.
We were both in a pretty good mood, considering that we’re both married, when two middle-aged women sat in the booth next to ours. One of the women was busy laying out and counting her french fries and onion rings on the serving tray. It was an obvious inspection routine. Next, she began to inspect her ice cream drink, peering into the container and poking into its depths with her straw. Something was very wrong, she said.
It seems, she explained to her friend, that they’d put the ingredients into the container in the wrong order. (I wish I were kidding about this.) She knew how it was supposed to look if they did it correctly before they whipped it up. She took her drink up to the counter and explained to the young help how they had made her drink and how they should have made her drink. The young help immediately turned into young, bewildered help.
“This is their chance,” my husband said. “They should hire her. She knows their business better than they do!” She continued to berate the help while pointing accusingly at the offending drink. I continued to mutter, “She’s kidding”.
Then I morphed into my “Thank you, Jesus” mode and reminded myself of three things I could be grateful for. Number one – I didn’t have to go home with that woman. Number two – I didn’t have to go home with that woman. Number three – I would get to go home with my husband, who can see the humor in just about anything! Loveya, Sweetie
Loveya – The Grandma
Artist, African hand drum student, yoga neophyte, and Grandmother of 22 or so grandchildren. I enjoy cooking and writing. I value good friends and quiet times for reading.