Anger

Terry, over here at Road Rage, writes a very entertaining blog about her adventures as a truck driver. She's a better...uh...man(?) than I am cause apparently she goes into NYC on a regular basis. Won't find me doing that. But the reason I bring her up is she posted about her observations regarding some folks and there anger issues.

I was reminded of that this morning. I'll get there in a minute. Just be patient.

Our local McDonald's, which I do not frequent very often, recently posted a sign behind the counter for all the customers to see. "PLEASE DO NOT SEAT CHILDREN ON THE COUNTER". Seems like a reasonable request. And one that I had never really given any thought to, but seeings as how the kids who would be "sat" on the counter would be the littlest ones, who may or may not have complete control of their bodily functions at this stage in their life, I'd rather not order a Big Mac and find it sitting in a surprise, even if it is set upon one of those oh so sanitary trays. So at that time, I just thought "huh" and went about my business.

Now get this picture. I'm in Mt Comfort, Indiana at exit 96 at the McDonald's there, which has truck parking (obvious, right?) and I walk in a minute or two behind a woman who has three kids with her, all between 1 and 4, from the looks of things. I hate to be judgmental, but these kids were fairly filthy, as was mom. I think you know what I mean. I tried to think, well, maybe they're traveling and the kids have been playing in the floorboard or the back window or the oil pan while mom drives and maybe she's a single mom trying to do her best and that they don't sell soap or wipes where she comes from. I know. I'm a jerk, but more on that later.

As mom is trying to pay for the Super Size Deluxe Big Monster Heart-Stopping Breakfast that she ordered, she plops the littlest one down on the counter so she can fish in her purse for her change. Then it hit. Where's the Sign?! They didn't have one at this particulate McD's, and I thought, oh how sad to not have a sign when you need one. But littlest one wasn't there very long and she went about her business of waiting for her Cholesterol in a Box meal, as I proceeded to order my own heart stopper.

Mom's order arrives and her and the kids are off to their seats. I'm standing there waiting when she's back in a flash. "I ORDERED THE SUPER SIZE DELUXE BIG MONSTER HEART-STOPPING BREAKFAST AND THERE'S NO SAUSAGE IN HERE! JUST PANCAKES, EGGS, A BISCUIT, HASH BROWNS, A SAUSAGE, BACON, EGG AND CHEESE McGRIDDLE, AND A SMALL BISCUITS AND GRAVY. BUT NO SAUSAGE! YOU GUYS FORGOT THE SAUSAGE! NOW THE REST OF MY MEAL IS GETTING COLD WHILE I WAIT FOR YOU TO GET ME THE SAUSAGE!"

At this point I thought, "John, you were right the first time. Trust your instincts." So the little old lady behind the counter says, "Oh dear. I am so so very sorry. I apologize severely. Please, let me get you a sausage and while I'm at it, I'll replace your whole breakfast since we let it get cold." And she toddles off behind her walker to gather up this poor, mistreated mothers meal once again, her support hose drooping around her ankles as hot grease splashes out of the fryer onto her bent, arthritic hands.

"Good!" mom says with a harumph, and glares around daring anyone to comment on her rudeness. She sees me watching her and she says to me, "I can't believe they forgot the sausage! It seems like nobody can fill a simple order anymore."

I put on my best face of compassion and say, "You're absolutely right. Tell you what. Let me finish my breakfast and you finish feeding your oh so darling children and then we'll take Granny here out back and beat her to death with a fry basket. That'll teach her to mess up somebodies order. People like that just shouldn't be allowed to live."

She looks at me for a moment, not sure what to think of this maniac who's proposing senioricide, and then gives me a look that says "not funny".

"No, seriously. Let me help." I say. "It's not fair if you're the only one that gets to meet out the justice in this world."

By now, her Artery Sucking Order has been refilled and she storms off to her oh so wonderful children. Granny comes back, shuffling her walker, and sets my breakfast down on the counter. "Sorry for the delay, young man," she says.

"No problem," I said. "Oh, and by the way, Ethel, (at least that's what her name tag said). You're doing a wonderful job here and I hope you have a marvelous day. rest assured, I will be back, next time I'm through here, just so I can come in here a see your pretty face again and enjoy your wonderful service."

I get so tired of having to clean up after stupid people. It's so easy to be nice in the first place. You get more results anyway, nobody spits in your food, and it keeps you're blood pressure down. What more can you ask? Do people really think they are going to get better and faster service by yelling and being stupid? Apparently so.

Let me tell you how it really works.

I went to the doctor the other day, nothing serious, she just moved her practice so we all had to go in and get check-ups. Whenever I speak with someone behind the counter I will try to call them by name, even if this is the first time I've ever met them. I'll read that name tag and say, "Good Morning, Nancy. How's you're day going so far?" People are always looking at me as if they are trying to remember where they've met me before.

So I'm at the doctor's, joking around with Linda, the receptionist, and I tell her that her hair looks nice because she just got it cut. Now I could really care less how Linda's hair looks, but she just got it cut, and a lot of women are worried about whether or not the new cut looks good. So I tell them it looks good. Period. Linda beams at me. Seems her husband hasn't even commented on it yet. So I've made her day.

I sit with the prerequisite forms to fill out, finish and bring them back up. Linda says, "Have you filled out our customer survey yet?"

"No, I haven't", I said.

"Do you mind filling one out while you're waiting? We want to see how we're doing," she says. "And don't forget to add any suggestions at the bottom if you have any."

Well, you know me. Never give me a blank page and let me write what I want. I answered all the questions by circling the numbers and I got to the suggestion line. Heh Heh. They wanted to know what they could do to improve their service. So this is what I wrote:

"I think that you should provide doughnuts for those of us in the waiting room. Or if not doughnuts, then how about blueberry muffins. As a matter of fact, let's just go with the blueberry muffins. They're probably healthier for us anyway, and I like blueberry, although sometimes it doesn't like me. And coffee. Could we have some coffee out here. Real coffee, not that flavored stuff but maybe some of that Ethiopian Medium Fresh Ground from the Peace Coffee Company. And maybe you could pass out those stainless steel travel mugs with your name printed on them so your favorite patients, like me, can remember who their doctor is and tell other people about what a great doctor you are and what a great service you provide as we travel this wide country of ours. Oh, and doesn't Linda's hair look nice today?"

So I hand the sheet back to Linda, the suggestion side facing down so she can't see it, and I sit back down just as the nurse calls me back to get weighed and tagged before the doc comes in to see me and fuss at me for gaining 8 pounds. I have a nice visit with Dr C, despite getting chewed out for breaking my personal record for gravitational strain and for still, um, ...smoking, and I head back out to see Linda and make my copay.

After she schedules my next appointment, I hand her my card so she can take $20 from my ever dwindling bank account, and she hands me a large pink bag that has some unpronounceable drug name on the side of it. The bag is stuffed with goodies that they got from all the pharmaceutical reps that show up peddling their drugs. Inside is a red plastic travel mug, a "manly" size pen with a cushioned grip, a pen with a highlighter on the other end of it, a flashlight that looks like a pen, a pen that looks like a flashlight, six different sizes of post-it notes tablets, three different sizes of notepads, a mouse pad, two magnets, and a key fob that says "Real Men Use Cialis."

"Come back soon, John," Linda says. "And you don't have to wait until your appointment either if you want." Maybe I will. I could use one of those wall clocks. Or an office chair. A new office chair would be cool.