On average, I visit coffee/doughnut shops twice per year. This would include the small mom-and-pop ones right up to Starbucks and Dunkin Donuts. I just don’t go to those kind of places for two reasons: a) because I can count on one hand the amount of cups of coffee I’ve had in my lifetime and b) because I restrict my doughnut intake to one doughnut per year.
There is one exception per the doughnut quota, though. Bolton Spring Farm in Bolton, Mass. does not count towards the one doughnut per year quota. Why? Because I said so. They make a mean sugar doughnut, so that’s the rule.
This morning, due to the devastation currently going on in my kitchen, I decided to stop at Dunkin Donuts on my way to work to pick up a bagel (onion bagel, lite veggie cream cheese, uh-huh). So I approach the register and place what I believe to be a pretty simple order and I see the woman, a short, stout, loud woman, go over and grab a berry bagel instead of an onion bagel. I politely inquired “I think that’s a berry bagel? I had actually asked for onion, please.” She turned around and grunted as if I’d just asked her to singlehandedly solve the war on drugs and says “I don’t know what it is. Whatever.” She stomps back over to the bagels and grabs an onion one, huffs and puffs some more and puts in the bag. I should have apologized, really, for making her take the extra 5 steps to get the correct bagel. It is, after all, a lot to ask for someone to get my order right. But I smiled, said thank you and took off.
Red Sox = in trouble.
Song now playing: Sloan – “Keep On Thinkin'”