Friday, January 21, 2011

When donuts go wrong

Yo, it's hard to find a picture of the right kind of donut online. This will have to do.

Today didn't start out so awesome. I was running late (Note: I'm almost always running late or just-barely-on-time in the mornings. I hate mornings so much.) and didn't have time for breakfast at home, so I swung through Dunkin Donuts for a Manager's Special and a black coffee. For those of you not in the know, "Manager's Special" is Dunkin-speak for a cream-filled donut with chocolate stuff on top, and usually sprinkles (which I flick off, because sprinkles are weird and get stuck in my teeth).

Now, for some reason, the morning manager there hates me. She has made this quite clear, although I seriously have never given her any reason; in fact, I make sure to be extra careful about politeness in the mornings, because surliness is my default state. This woman - her name is Rose - does things like take care of the four people in line ahead of me, then decide to switch out all the coffee and make fresh as soon as I reach the counter, even if there's no one in line behind me. Or she walks away from the counter to check on cups or something when I'm the only person in the store. Things like that. The only time she's ever smiled at me (she smiles at other people all the time) was when she got to tell me they were out of the kind of donut I wanted.

So Rose and I have a history, but usually things work out okay and I get my coffee and my donut and move along. Today I went through the drive-through, ordered my shit, and went to work. When I eventually got around to eating the donut, as I went in for that first awesome bite, I realized that bitch Rose had snuck me a custard-filled instead of a cream-filled. I hate custard-filled donuts. Hate them. They are at the very bottom of my "list of donuts in order of delicousness." After breaking the donut in half to confirm my suspicions, I emailed some work friends who were already there to see if they wanted the monstrosity. Of course, because custard is gross, none of them did.

So I left it on the desk of a coworker who wasn't there yet, with this note: "You missed the story about why I won't eat this donut, but anyway, I guess it's yours now. Enjoy. From [work nickname]."

That made me feel better.

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