Monday, August 10, 2009

Life in a post-bar exam world

My parents grow a lot of fruits and vegetables in their garden (and by a lot, I mean an obscene amount, and by garden, I mean plantation). In the last ten years, my dad's obsession has been blackberries, and even though we already have enough blackberries bushes to overwhelm the makers of Smuckers Jam, he still plants more every year. I think next summer he's going to devise a way to grow them on the roof.

Anyway, this means my siblings and I have the "opportunity" (quote marks used intentionally) to pick and sell berries every summer, which is actually a pretty sweet gig - and since I am currently underemployed, one that I was truly grateful for.

This morning I had two orders to fill, including one for XXX* in SLC. So I woke up, hauled my "sleeps in until ten now that the bar is over" bottom out of bed at (guh) 8 in the morning, and drove to Salt Lake to get their in time for their opening at 9 am. I delivered the berries, went to the grocery store, headed back up north, was nearly home and ...

Charlie called. XXX had called him, claiming they didn't order any berries for today.

I was flummoxed. Should I go back and get them? Start whining about the perfect tender rule? Rely on the solid legal grounds of, "Uh, yeah you did"?

So I turned around in Bountiful (stopping to flip off a lady who honked at me repeatedly for getting into the turn lane to turn and then staying there as I waited to turn- and tried not to think about whether Jesus would have behaved similarly in like circumstances) and drove all the way back to Salt Lake City.

To put it succinctly, I was in a pretty bad mood when I finally re-arrived at XXX. It got worse when the lady at the sales counter kept me waiting. And then worse still when the manager declined to come out front to explain to me how this all could have happened.

And then they found my weakness.

A sweet old lady came out with the blackberries, told me their boss was away and she didn't really know what was going on, but she was sorry for my trouble, and would I like a dozen chocolate covered strawberries to take home?

Anger = dissipated.

Candy and the elderly. They foil me every time.

* Kept anonymous to preserve good business relationships.

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