So I’m at the local taco stand grabbing a burrito for lunch. The guy at the register has always been a surly lout but at least he doesn’t talk much. Maybe I look like somebody he hates, or maybe he’s just a jerk to everybody. Whatever, it’s not like I need to have a relationship with the guy. The cute chiquita rolls the burritos and she doesn’t seem to hate me one bit. All he has to do is take my money and hand back the change and I’m outta there. And of course he’s required to give me the standard ‘thank you’ at the end.
Well, lately that’s been getting shortened up to just ‘Q’. There’s a little trace of a ‘th’ in there; sort of a ‘th-Q’ type of thing. I guess the guy knows me by now and that’s how I can tell we’re buddies. But the last couple of days I honestly can’t tell if he’s saying ‘th-Q’ or ‘f-Q’. Matter of fact it really sounds more like ‘f-Q’. And judging by looks that’s short for ‘eat hot death gringo boy’.
Now, I’ve never done anything to the schmuck besides buy half decent Mexican food from him once in awhile. There’s a nice wrapper between him and my grub so he can give me the stink eye all he wants. But I draw the line at cursing me.
So ‘f-Q-2’, pal. I don’t need a side order of hate with my lunch, especially not at those prices. I’m shopping for a new taco stand tomorrow. May the stink-eyed schmuck receive all that he deserves.
No way! I wouldn’t diss a megalomaniacal super-being. If there are any megalomaniacal super-beings out there reading this, I never intended to diss you in any way.
And before anyone else gets to it, that also covers the legendary gadget maker for James Bond too. (Ack! Too slow!)
But recalcitrant burrito vendors are definitely fair game. And this guy is the poster child.
I just thought we were pitting the alphabet, starting with the most objectionable letters. Of course Q is the biggest offender - major co-dependency issues there. C’mon be a man and let U have her space, she has a life outside of you, but you, Q, can’t do anything by yourself. (And yeah, I’m not counting things like IRAQ, they’re not real words, so you don’t get credit for that.)
I’m a little disappointed to find out that the Spanish word for “radio” is “radio.” So much for my snappy comeback.
Few retail drones actually enjoy their jobs, but most are able to fake a little politeness. Smiling is not uncommon. A rare few gems manage to radiate genuine joy at being able to help you. To all the retail workers who generate a sincere “Have a WONDERFUL day!”, thank you. You make the world a better place.
But years ago, I sometimes patronized a local Reilly’s Roast Beef. The cashier there was probably the most bitter, angry, unlikeable bitches I have ever had the misfortune to meet. Every interaction with her was met with unmasked contempt. If she responded to your “Thank you” with “WhatEVAR”, you felt all warm and fuzz inside. Mostly she just sneered, though.
A couple of years ago, I realized that if you say “thanks, slut” fast enough, it sounds close enough to “thanks a lot” that you can usually get away with it.