Grumpy service workers need to meet Grandma L

Folks who work in the service industry seem to have all the power to make or break ordinary days for people like you and me.

Frustrated by bellowing bloggers in an uproar over a school dress code (one that's likely not going away) and marathon meetings that conclude without solution, I had to take a step back.

A time out, a chance to revive thy perky self, a need for speed, ... whatever you want to call it, I needed a break, in the form of an iced coffee.

When I left the office and headed toward "Grandma L's" house, all was good. In fact, when I left her house, with a beautifully knitted yellow afghan for my unborn child, things were great. I was in awe over the generosity of this caring stranger, a stranger who called me at the paper two weeks ago to tell me, matter-of-factly, she read my columns regularly, was sorry my dad was sick, happy I was pregnant, and she had made me a blanket. I could pick it up at my convenience.

Thank you, Grandma L., for making me feel so special. People like you make small, Southern towns special, and reinforce why there's no better place than to raise a child.

Errrk ... screech ... crash!

The brief exhale and peace I felt following my visit with Grandma L. came to a screaming halt as soon as I pulled up to the fast food drive thru to order my drink. As soon as I had put in my order, which also included my husband's lunch order, the computer system crashed.

The computer glitch wasn't so much the problem as was the poor attitude displayed by the clerk at the first window. "This stupid register, it's not my &*$#@(&&^%$ fault!" She continued to throw a fit so bad for the next five minutes that Jack and I, typically quite laid back, had stopped laughing and started raising eyebrows. If her manager had seen or heard her, I'm certain she would have lost her job ... or at least I hope she would have been reprimanded to some degree.

Ten minutes after the fact, after at least a dozen cars in line (those unable to place their orders) drove past us to escape the ever-growing line behind the ordering station, a manager came up to assist our poor trapped souls.

She couldn't figure out the problem, but she had the wits about her to turn our frowns upside down.

"Lunch is on me today," she said. She, unlike the hot-headed employee who threw a temper tantrum, represented the service industry well.

Later in the day, when it was my turn to eat lunch, I went out to order a sandwich at another fast food place. Even though I was the only person in line, I had to wait a few minutes for the employee to even notice me. I guess I should have felt lucky to have been served at all, or at least that's how she made me feel. As she continued to talk on the phone while making my sandwich, she told her friend on the line that she, "of course, was working off the clock ... sigh."

Hmmm ... I wonder how customers of the paper would feel if I answered the phone, "Good afternoon, thanks for calling the T-G, I'm really hungry right now and am trying to eat my sandwich. You're really interrupting me and I don't really care what your complaint is but ... what can I do for you ... sigh?"

I'm pretty sure I would be unemployed.

My next experience that same week really wasn't much better, though this time it wasn't really a poor attitude that got under my skin. Other than "sweetie, honey, baby, sugar, and pumpkin," coming out of the employee's mouth way too many times for my taste, especially when the fluff was directed toward an elderly man in front of me. Where I come from, it's actually considered rude and condescending to sweet talk folks of such wisdom.

The poor man had waited 20 minutes outside for his order. They had asked him to "pull off to the side" to wait for his chicken. Apparently they forgot about him, so the man walked inside to check on things. They told him, no joke, they had lost his order and it would be another 12 minutes for the chicken to cook!

I guess the only good thing that came out of all this was the reminder it served as to why I hate fast food establishments.

I can make iced coffee myself, my turkey sandwiches are much less expensive, and fried chicken, made fresh by the likes of all the Grandma L's in the world, is way better than any fast -- or not so fast -- version.

Besides, it's not annoying when grandma calls me "sugar."

-- Sadie Fowler is lifestyles editor at the Times-Gazette. She can be reached at sfowler@t-g.com. This column is scheduled to publish each Sunday.