Most Embarrassing Moment
Everybody has those days. With four kids, I probably have more than my share! This particular day, it had nothing to do with my kids. I went through a drive-thru for a milkshake. A seemingly simple feat, but I'll admit I'm not your run of the mill milkshake orderer. I'm high maintenance with my food, like Meg Ryan in "When Harry Met Sally." But I try to be reasonable. There are some things I can roll with, like the wrong ingredients on my hamburger. I can pick off the onion. I can live without the mustard. But there are unforgivable food mishaps, like cold French fries. Not preparing my milkshake to specifications also falls in the realm of unforgivable, meaning I'm going to request a do-over or a refund.
Because there was someone behind me in the drive-thru, I pulled forward before I took my first sip. I had requested extra thick with no syrup, only milk and ice cream. The milkshake was like water. If I'd have paid $2 and hadn't really had a taste for it, I would have passed it off to my kids. But this milkshake was over $4 and I really, really wanted it. So, I wheeled back thru the drive-thru of this family owned business. The teenage daughter had taken my order, made and delivered my milkshake. She contended that I had not made those specific requests and she could do nothing. In essence, "Lump it."
Perhaps if this was the first time I had wanted a milkshake prepared precisely this way, I would have questioned myself. But I have been ordering my milkshakes this way for years. It is the only way I drink them. Plus, I had eight other ears in the car that said I did order the milkshake that way...and at least four of those ears were trustworthy, given to correcting me when I misspeak. So I asked to speak with her supervisor, aka her mother. Her mother told me her daughter didn't lie, that for all she knew I could have been sitting in the parking lot while the milkshake melted. The inference, of course, is that I was lying.
I was livid. Keeping a calm exterior, I requested she make me a new milkshake or refund my money. She refused. As I tried to reason with her, appealing to her apparently absent customer service skills, she began to shut the window in my face. That closing window was like the red cape waving in front of a bull. In a moment that can only be likened to a psychotic break, I tossed my milkshake at her through the closing window and drove off. My kids sat in momentary disbelief before exclaiming, "Mom, you rock!"
I've never done anything like that before. I like to think I'll never do anything like that again. I wish I could say I regretted the act. I didn't. But I did have remorse. I hated the example I had set for my children. And I was sickened thinking this woman might attribute my behavior to prejudice against a foreigner. Her ethnicity had no bearing on my actions-her being an unreasonable jerk was my only motivation. It bothered me that she could deny her own culpability by pawning off my actions on perceived prejudice.
So, a week later, after explaining to my kids how much I didn't rock, I went back to the restaurant to apologize, kids in tow for them watch me eat crow. The restaurant was closed. Not for the day, for good. I'll admit we all basked in the righteous vindication the world had to offer at that very moment. You can't treat people poorly and expect them to keep coming back. She learned that the hard way. Or she learned nothing as she sat oblivious to her own actions in a pool of self pity for a perceived prejudice that was so wrongly thrust against her.
That day, I couldn't understand how a business owner would risk losing a customer over a $4+ milkshake that probably only cost her $1 to make. Even if she had made me another milkshake, at worst she would have broken even. Now her refusal to make me a new milkshake made more sense. Either she was fighting for her survival and every penny counted, or she had already lost her fight and didn't care about losing a customer. Either way, there was something below the surface I couldn't see. I didn't give her the benefit of the doubt.
How often do I assume someone is just being a jerk for the pure joy of annoying me? A co-worker, a boss, a spouse, a child, a relative, another driver? How often are my actions driven by the sentiment that I deserve to be treated better by those around me? How often do I treat others poorly and expect them to react graciously to me because I'm having a bad day?
You never know what personal battle someone is fighting. Even on my worst day, someone who is irritating me may actually be having a worse day than I am. Hopefully I can remember that the next time I get a watery milkshake!