Donna’s monthly saying arrived on schedule today. It was Money can’t buy you love.
No, but your ex-husband’s money can buy you a lot of groceries, Donna.
There was this new hunky bloke in the lift today. Tall and thin, with a sort of crusty complexion. I think he’s French. Either that, or he was putting on an outrageous accent. Besides, who else dresses like that? I said hello. He looked down at me, smiled and said bon jour. Tingles.
Tonight, Donna and I went to a café by the beach. I told her about Breadstick, and she thought I should go for it.
Anyway, we ordered pizza, garlic bread, chips and some cheesecake. The pizza comes out quickly, followed by the cheesecake. The rest arrived about half an hour later, and the garlic bread came out last and was burnt. As I didn’t want garlic bread for dessert, especially burnt garlic bread, I fought my habitual timidity and took it to the counter and complained. But I didn’t get an apology. Instead, I got an explanation of how the system works. Apparently, the pizzas are cooked in a different place than everything else. Maybe they should tell the customers that when they’re ordering, although that didn’t explain why the garlic bread was burnt and came out last. Anyway, I thought of Susan, stood my ground, and eventually the manager presented me with a $20 voucher for next time. Like I’m going back there again. Still, it was a small victory I suppose. Although I’m running out of places where I will or am allowed to go again.
At least they had let me have a tab.