Friday, September 01, 2006

Cookie F*cking Friday

It was 9:30 last night when I remembered that today is Cookie Friday in my office.

Cookie Friday was my idea. We got a toaster oven. I bring in those ready to bake Tollhouse cookies. Voila, Cookie Friday.

Nice, huh?

Except for the one time I forgot to bring the cookies.

“You FORGOT? How could you FORGET Cookie Friday? What the HELL is WRONG with YOU? FINE! I guess we don’t get any cookies TODAY!”

All day. And again on Monday.

Me and my bright ideas.
Now I don’t forget. But I usually remember at the very last minute. Like last night at 9:30.

So this morning I get up a little earlier than usual and head to the grocery store. It’s on the way to the train station and usually not busy that early so I figure it’ll be zippy.

Not today.

One lane open with a checker and there are five people ahead of me. There’s a self-checkout lane open, too, but there’s a woman with an overflowing cart camped there for what one can only presume will be the entire day.
“This is an out of state ID,” says the frazzled old man behind the counter.
“Yes?” replies the Asian woman from Indiana.
“Your check has to be for the exact amount,” he tells her.

Five more minutes re-writing the check. And five minutes putting her driver’s license information into the cash register to make sure she’s not part of some Asian crime wave crossing our borders from Indiana writing bad checks for tampons and chewing gum.

Next up: a tiny Hispanic woman who is buying lettuce and the biggest bottle of Christian Brothers brandy I’ve ever seen in my life. Her order comes to $19.79.

She hands the cashier a bulging Baggie filled with quarters. For a moment I actually feel bad for the cashier as he splays the change on the counter to count it. She's short four cents and my head is about to explode as she scrambles through yet another Baggie for the pennies.

My transaction takes less than a minute, but I’ve just wasted 20 minutes of my life in the grocery store for what I am now calling Cookie Fucking Friday.
C’mon, Heather. It’s cookies. Why stress out?

Exactly. It’s supposed to be a nice thing, but it’s turned into a Royal Pain in the Ass.

Has this ever happened to you?

You do something nice for somebody. Then they come to expect it. And it sucks all the joy out of doing it.

Now I’m trying to figure out how to get the fuck out of Cookie Fucking Friday.
I am listening to: Bi-weekly sales meeting
I am reading: Steinberg in the Sun-Times
And I am: The Cookie Monster