I know I said I was going for an Angry Lunch, but I didn’t actually require any bloodshed.
I’ve had a rough morning at work, so I opted to get my favourite sandwich* for lunch. My Angry didn’t really go away even with the thought of deliciousness because people are stupid (hey, rich tourist lady with the multiple Holt Renfrew bags in the crazy long lunch hour line up, letting your kid stand in the middle of the narrow walkway blocking traffic while you take up all the room with your huge stroller and then proceed to ask what’s on the menu and what’s in each item? FUCK YOU), but I placed my order and stood back to wait for my food to be ready. I waited, and waited, and waited some more. Then there was more waiting, and I was starting to pout a little when they realized that I hadn’t received my food yet. The kitchen manager came over to apologize and to let me know what happened:
Apparently someone was making my lunch (with extra deliciousness) when he SLICED HIS HAND WIDE OPEN and bled all over the universe. In the rush to get himself some badly needed first aid, he forgot to tell someone what he was in the middle of doing – so my order was forgotten. Manager man was full of apologies, which I didn’t need – my lunch made someone bleed! After reassuring me the guy was okay, he insisted on giving me some dessert for my trouble. I told him to pick something for me, and he gave me this:
It’s panna cotta with raspberry goo on top, in a REALLY COOL TWISTY CUP. I am almost more excited about the cup than I am the delicious goo inside, but overall I am pretty pleased with the outcome.
Um, and I feel bad for the guy who sliced himself open.
*: yeah, I have a favourite sandwich now. I try not to talk about it, given my rage towards all other sandwiches – but it’s cool; this sandwich is kind of like having a black friend so clearly I can’t be racist.