One Hangry B****

hangry

As I’ve mentioned in the past, I love to eat. You will never hear me say “I was so busy I forgot to eat.” And should that ever come from my mouth, please know an alien has entered my body and your life is in danger. So it should go without saying, you don’t fuck with my food. If I ask for a medium french fry and 7 ketchups, I need exactly 7 ketchups. I have fine tuned the fry/ketchup ratio and anything other than that quantity is unacceptable.

Last week my co-worker and I ordered Panera Bread to be delivered. I always order the same thing: Fuji Chicken Salad, 1/2 Frontega Panini and a baguette. Online there is a place to add specific notes to each meal as well as another spot to put general delivery notes. In both locations and in caps, I always type:

PLS BRING EXTRA BUTTER AND EXTRA DRESSING

And guess what those fuckers forget EVERY SINGLE TIME? The extra butter and dressing. It’s a running joke at the office at this point, some taking bets on if they’ll remember. The slap in the face is the receipt taped to the brown bag it came in. “Extra butter” and “extra dressing” is checked off!

Steak Fajita

fajitasLast night was a team dinner for my 10-year-old’s soccer team at a nearby Mexican restaurant. Though we only anticipated 2 teams, it turned out to be a dinner of 3 teams which meant the entire state of Rhode Island would be dining in 1 room.

I was so excited about this dinner that I contemplated wearing a dress. It had been a while since Nikki, Nikki, Annie and myself were at the same table. This practically felt like a girls night….but surrounded by 36 10-year-olds…..on a Sunday night. So it wasn’t ideal, at least there would be margaritas.

About 5 minutes after the waitress began taking food orders on an IPad, food started coming out. People were literally getting their meals and we hadn’t even ordered yet! I wasn’t upset. If anything I was amazed by the technology that allowed orders to feed directly to the cook and have meals to the table in minutes. This process continued for about 30 minutes. Meal after meal. Everyone around me had their food by now.

‘Someone’s gotta be last,’ I told myself.

I was playing it cool till the food stopped coming out. I was like that person at baggage claim where everyone’s retrieved their luggage,

the carousel stopped and I don’t have my suitcase. This is when things began to spiral out of control…internally.

“Excuse me,” I said to our server as she passed by. “Everyone has their food. I don’t have mine.”

“Yeah, I don’t know what happened to your fajitas,” she said, truly perplexed.

‘They didn’t fuckin’ make’em. That’s what happened to my fajitas,’ I thought.

“Let me check on them,” she said and rushed to the kitchen.

3 minutes later a happy-go-lucky dude came to our table.

“You order the fajita?” He asked with a strong accent.

“Yeah, steak fajitas. Everyone’s gotten their food,” I said as I looked around to all the nearly empty plates.

“I go check for you,” he said and walked away.

I crossed my arms like a petulant child, beginning to mumble under my breath,

“freakin’ steak fajitas…..gonna be cold. Might as well get them to go.” Slurp margarita. “Everyone’s done…..I haven’t even started.”

Just then, we heard sizzling from the kitchen. Happy go lucky, in all his glory, stops before me with a sizzling plate. As he lowers it to my eye level, you would have thought it was a birthday cake, given the grin on my face and how proud he was. My grin quickly became a glare.

“This is chicken,” I said, looking up at him.

“You wanted the chicken?”

“No! I want steak.”

“It’s ok, you take the chicken.”

“I don’t want the chicken, I want the steak!” I shriek, simultaneously twisting back in my chair, arms folded, facing the table.

By now, Nikki chimed in with her adorable Southern accent.

“She doesn’t want the chicken, she wants the steak!”

“I wanted the steak!” I repeated.

After 2 hours, I finally had my steak fajitas. I had them put it in the to-go box. Looking back, this was me being drama because as soon as it got to the table, I ripped open the round foil containers and……ok, I didn’t just eat it, I fed. Like a ravenous, hungry animal.

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