Saturday morning, I decided to get up semi-early and clean out my closet, and attempt to sell clothes at Crossroads, which is always an exercise in embarrassment. Still, I had some good stuff (in my humble and apparently unfashionable opinion) so I thought it was worth a shot.
I sold a few things at the first Crossroads (there are TWO opportunities to humiliate yourself near my house!) so I was able to buy a super cute sweater dress, which was a HUGE win, since most sweater dresses make me look like a sausage in yarn casing. I was pretty thrilled. Still, the girl referred to my clothes as “basics” that were “nice” but “not trendy.” Um, whatevs. I can’t say I was a huge fan of her short shorts over tights and weird vest, but do your thing, girl.
Next, I stopped at Panera Bread to get an iced Americano. It was nearly 10:30 and I hadn’t had my coffee yet, so I was going for POWER! at that point. I walked in and ordered my drink (and resisted a Cinnamon Crunch bagel, WIN!). Seriously, as soon as I said “iced Americano” the girl taking my order looked at me like I was insane.
“Frozen-caramel-latte-explosion-cinno?” (whatever their frozen beverage was called.)
Finally, a girl with an ASSOCIATE TRAINER badge came over.
“I’ll make you an iced Americano!”
She pulled two shots of espresso and handed them to me in a paper cup, with a plastic cup of ice. I stared at her.
“Ma’am, an Americano is just espresso and water, so you can use the hot water for tea to make it!”
I explained—very nicely—at this point that I wanted an iced Americano, meaning that it should be mixed with cold water, so that it was delicious, and also so that the cup didn’t melt alllll over my hands. ASSOCIATE TRAINER piped up again and explained what was in an Americano.
I took a deep breath and refrained from screaming, “LOOK, YOU 16-YEAR-OLD TRAINER, I’VE BEEN ADDICTED TO COFFEE SINCE BEFORE YOU WERE BORN!” I explained again: iced Americano’s required COLD WATER and ice.
She explained yet again, and then added that she’d been to some coffee training school through Panera. I cut her off and said I had been a barista before, and could she please just get me some iced coffee. She rolled her eyes, and huffed and puffed.
And then she handed me a paper cup, the same plastic cup of ice and pointed at the hot coffee. AND THEN MY BRAIN EXPLODED.
Still, I just took it and it was fine because it had caffeine and I got to get away from two ridiculous people who have no business discussing coffee.
Next, I went to Crossroads #2, where they took NOTHING of mine, and the girl seemed SUPER ANNOYED that I’d even bothered coming in. How do I know?
Oh, because, as soon as I turned a corner, she proceeded to insult the hell out of my clothes. Not cool, sister. NOT COOL. Anyways, I left and went home and pouted. Boo.
The final kicker came this morning at the gym when a girl in the locker room said, “Oooh, your hair is sooooo curly! You know you can straighten it, right? It’d look so pretty.”
Um, for the record: I know of straighteners as I haven’t been living under a rock for the past 30+ years. Did it ever occur to anyone that maybe I like having curly hair?! That I think it’s fun and funky and pretty? That enjoy having hair that’s a little different and cute and doesn’t take 30 years to style? Is there something WRONG with curls? I get this question/comment 3-4 times per week. For the record: I like my curls.
I also like my clothes and my iced Americanos. Mkay?