Lunch Woes

I absolutely cannot stand when something that should be a routine, everyday order of business turns into a needlessly aggravating hassle. I just popped down the street to get a sandwich from the deli counter at Ralph's, and by the time I got home I was a ball of world-resenting hostility.

They've recently adopted the "take a number" system at the deli counter, so I took my number, which was 73. At the time, they were on 67. So I went and stood all the way at the end of the counter, where they make the sandwiches. The problem was, the five or so Hispanic deli ladies were all clustered down at the other end of the counter, by where they have the giant loaves of cheese and the pre-made salads and stuff. So I waited.

And waited. And waited. None of these deli workers acknowledged me. Finally I looked up and noticed that 73 was lit up on the screen, so I walked down to where they were working, but they were all busy doing things. So I stood around for a moment, continuing to get ignored, before shuffling back to where I had been standing.

Then one of them called out "74," and a guy stepped up to place his order. I darted back down to that side of the counter, waving my ticket. "I have 73!" I called out. "I call out 73 already," one Hispanic deli worker said. "I was down there waiting for a sandwich," I said, pointing. "You guys need to keep an eye on the sandwich counter."

"I call out 73," this lady said to me again. This highly annoyed me. "You called it out from 50 feet away!" I said. "I couldn't hear you. I've been waiting here for like ten minutes."

To her credit, she apologized. Then she made my sandwich with the wrong bread and forgot to slice it in half. And now I'm back home, stewing with frustration over what I had no reason to believe wouldn't be a perfectly lovely little lunch.