Be nice to old people

The other day, my friend and I were at the mall. Let's call him Doug. Doug and I have been going to the mall everyday for our spare and our lunch periods to eat and browse and people watch. Consequently, between the hours of 10:30-12 there are so many old people. One day, while we were ordering, I turned around and just gazed about the elderly and made a joke about the sea of the aged going as far as the eye can see. It was hilarious.

Anyways, back to story time. We decided to get McDonald's and ordered our food. The one manager is not a very nice lady. She was okay with me, but then like outwardly judged Doug on his purchase. We gave a look like "What in the world" then continued waiting for our food. A nice old man was in line next. This is pretty much what happened:

Manager: Next.
Old Man: ....
Manager: Next!
Old Man: Looks to Doug and I, then at the manager. Oh, me? Points to himself
Manager: Yes. Rolls eyes dramatically.
Old Man: Unaffected, and perfectly cheery. Hey doll, (It's an old man, so it's not even creepy) I guess I will have a sausage breakfast sandwich. Are they still selling those?
Manager: Punches it in. Does not look up. I guess we'll see. Anything else?
Old Man: A senior black coffee with two creams and a sugar on the side.
Manager: Rolls eyes. Mumbles. Then it wouldn't be a black coffee. Speaks up. That's 2.99.
Old Man: Still not affected. Thanks, you can keep the penny, doll.

The whole thing just made me so mad. Like, you're a McDonald's manager. I understand you're working a shitty job. I understand that some customers are horrible. I understand that this is not your dream job. But it is your job lady. You're the manager. You should not be treating customers like this. Not the perfectly nice old men who could have brightened your day, but instead you decided to ruin his.

I can't even fathom how much shit an elderly person much go through in a day. This damn trip to McDonald's, alone might I add, may have been the single best thing to happen all week for this guy. Or maybe he comes everyday. I wish I could just apologize for her. I wish I would have stood up for him, but he seemed so unaffected as I was watching this entail. Maybe he's just simply used to it.

Be nice to old people. Go hug your grandparents. Smile to them walking by. Say good morning, or afternoon, or night. They have been here longer then us, and one day we may all become them. Just be nice to everyone. We don't know what they are going through.

This manager could have been having an off day. Maybe something our of her control. I just hope things get better for everyone. Why can't we all just get along?

So, I didn't win the contest...

I was going to blog about how pissed I am, but something totally strange just happened, so I thought I would blog about this instead.

So, I finally get home, and I go into the bathroom to be pissed in solitude. I hear the phone ring. I hear my dad talking to someone. He mentions something about Indiana. Then he comes and knocks on the door. I'm like, "What?" heatedly and then he walks away and continues to chat. Then a little while later, he knocks again and I hear my mom yell like, it's someone from a contest.

So I'm like super confused. So I come out and get the phone and it's some random dude from some random guitar guy from some random place I've never heard of. He's like, "Did you enter this blah guitar contest?" Me, "Uh, I guess? Yeah..." and then he was asking me about my guitar and if I do any recording and I'm like, what the fuck is going on? And he's like, "Well, I will shoot you and e-mail and you can ask me any questions and stuff."

The e-mail is very personal and as confusing. I don't know if this is like a runner-up prize or something. He seems like he is a legit musician and stuff, it was just super random and really bad timing.

I'm pretty sure the contest was to win a nice guitar that I entered a really long time ago. I don't know if I am going to answer him. I should and be like, "I am more into ukulele at the moment." Or maybe he will become my online boyfriend from Indiana.

Today has been a weird day.

Best line from the e-mail:  It may seem extraordinary that I'm writing with all this info, but I want you to know that when you call me, you're getting a real music industry professional and not an order taker.

Justified furry

Hello ladies and gentlemen, today I am here to rant about my horrific afternoon. This is an afternoon to end all afternoons. Yes, I am overreacting. But I'm angry and sometimes my chill physique has to be altered.

This all started at the beginning of lunch. Our Rankin Run t-shirts were in and I'm the first one in line by chance. I tell the lovely grade 10's my name and they hand me a bag. Those lovely grade 10's turn into dumb bitches as I walk upstairs because I notice the size is medium, not small.

And for the record, they are in mens sizes so even the small is pretty large so the medium was enormous on me. So, I just say, "Whatever, I will go back down after lunch." After my enjoyable eating experience I head back downstairs to get this t-shirt ordeal straightened out.

"Hey, you gave me a medium when I was supposed to get a small..." They ask for my name again and check the folder.
"It says medium on here..." Says grade 10 #1.
"But I said a small... Can't you just switch it?"
"No, then someone else's order might get messed up." Says grade 10 #2.
"Well, is there someone else I can talk to? I asked for a small." They told me to go to someone but I was like screw it. I will handle it tomorrow.

It just really pissed me off though because when I signed up for the Rankin Run my English teacher asked me for the size and I said small and she was like, "Okay, small." It's not like she didn't hear me correctly. And it's also not like I asked for a medium, took it out of the bag and realized it was huge then went to ask for a small.

I used to be the kind of person who probably wouldn't do anything about it. Just let it be. But not now. I am determined to get the correct shirt size even if I have to sneak in and switch them myself.

So, this wasn't even a big deal. I might have punched my locker out of frustration and scared Nathan, but I'm over it. I'll get it sorted out. The real problem happened when I got home. My fifth period was cancelled so I just came home for the afternoon.

My mother and I decided to go get haircuts. My mom wanted the works. I just wanted a simple trim. I liked my hair. I liked how it would fall in front of my face and I would casually swoop it back. I liked the length. Oh, how I miss it.

All I wanted was to kill off some of the split-ends. That. Was. All. But my dreams were crushed by Darlene. I'm not just saying, "Wow, that bitch was retarded." I honestly think she had a mental disability. I do not think she should be allowed to hold scissors.

I experienced all 5 stages of grief from this hair-cut. Let me walk you through it.

1. Denial- This happened when she took the first cut off my bangs. If my bangs were 10cm before, they are 3cm now. I just couldn't believe she just did that.
2. Anger- This happened after the haircut was complete. WHAT DID SHE DO TO MY HAIR. Also, she wanted me to pay $5 to dry it. So my hair was soaking wet. I hate you Darlene. My life soon changed to drinking iced coffee and hating everything even more. For the record, iced coffee is pretty gross.
3. Bargaining- This was a short one. It went something like, "I'll win the lottery, buy the place and fire Darlene if this hit man doesn't work out." The whole thing backfired.
4. Depression- I have to go to school like this. I have to wait until this grows back. I'm going to go cry in the corner.
5. Acceptance- At the end of the day, it's just hair. Deep breaths. Look on the bright side; your hair looks more like Tina Fey's now. Yes, that is your bright side. You are really messed up. Looks like life is getting back to normal.

I'm always the one to tell someone, "Oh, your haircut isn't that bad, stop being upset." But maybe that's because I never had a haircut I've despised before. I now understand.

The only thing that really boggles my mind is WHY. I asked her to trim my bangs, not chop the shit out of them. I just don't understand what she was thinking. Needless to say, she did not get a tip.