Now back when I was visiting my family in Michigan, Detroit I kept getting all sarcastic about us Aussies being best friends with Crocodile Dundee and sipping tea with Sandy from Grease, so it seems I sealed my own fate when karma decided to throw it right back in my contemptuous little middle class face.
It may have been around the time of Spring Carnival or maybe it was during the Australian Open, I'm not sure, but either way we were being particularly slammed that month.
Tempers were flaring and patience was short. And that was just the staff at the salon. As far as the clients went, all I'll say is; you don't want to know how quickly a person can turn when you tell them the last appointment for the next 3 months just got nabbed 5 minutes ago.
As one woman put it
"Don't you know who I am? I'm THEE face of the races, I can't be seen without perfect eyebrows before this weekend!"
"Ummm… no, I don't know who you are and with that attitude I don't particularly care to either. Surely if you were thee face of anything you would've organised yourself more than a day in advance for such a big event. No?" is what I would have liked to say but somehow, even after all my years of receiving verbal abuse, I've managed to remain professional and as polite as possible in these situations.
Still, I digress…
So anyway on this particular day I'm tired, I'm cranky and most importantly I'm starving.
Not a good combination on any given day but even worse for a food loving Greek during the peak social season.
Look up the word Hangry and you'll see a picture of me:
han·gry /Adjective /haNGəˌrē
1. Expressing signs of lashing out due to feeling or displaying the need for food.
2. A hungry and therefor angry Greek: She was hangry due to not eating in the last 12 hours.
3. [a picture of me]
I'd had enough. I needed some sustenance. And solitary confinement.
I could have spent my lunch break returning the 10,000 messages of threats and bribes for appointments but I knew if I spoke to one more person while in this state I would likely have a break down and erupt in a homicidal rampage.
Since I only had half an hour to shove something substantial in my gob I dashed off to the local grocers in order to grab something rather than wasting time at one of the over populated cafes in the area.
Choosing to do the healthy thing and throw together a quick salad I picked up some salad greens, a can of tuna, some chick peas, corn (all ring-tops) and a can of beetroot (no ring-top).
Dashing back to the salon I hurriedly threw the contents in a bowl and searched for the can opener.
No such luck.
So back to the grocers I ran to buy a can opener since I figured it would come in handy over the next few days. Luckily this shop was only across the road and so it took all of two seconds.
Back to my can of beetroot and I find I've bought a defective can opener. Of coarse.
Enraged at the prospect of going beetrootless
(yes i love my beetroot, don't judge me ok) and out of principle I run back across to exchange the faulty product.
The owner of the store assures me they're not faulty and so it takes me 10 minutes of arguing to get my way before he finally lets me exchange it for another one.
Take 2 on the freeing of the beetroot.
No. Such. Luck.
Now any normal person would have given up and let it go but in my furious state of hanger I go racing across the road again like an infuriated baboon, can and opener in hand ready to give Apu and his Quicky Mart a piece of my mind.
The store is full of shoppers by now and of coarse there's a line from the counter out to the wah-zou.
Just my luck with less than 15mins left of my break.
It's crossed my mind to just drop it but my stubborn blood is boiling and I know I can't let it go.
Storming to the counter and pushing past to the front of the queue I loudly complain that this can opener is faulty too and so dared him to open my can of beetroot if I was wrong.
I'd completely disregarded the people waiting in line but after another 5mins ticked by with the owner and his staff struggling to get the can open using various openers they stocked, I'd finally cooled off enough to be more than a little embarrassed at the commotion I was causing and was finally ready to give up.
Imagine my horror when I looked behind me and not only saw a sea of irritated faces all directing their hate upon me but was hit with a hot sack of shock at the belated recognition of the woman I had pushed in front of.
Me: (In my mind): Fungool, it's Sandra D!
Me: Look, forget about it. Don't worry I'll come back later.
Apu: No, no, I will fix it for you in a jiffy.
Me: No really, it's ok. You're very busy and I'm running out of time.
Apu: Please ma'm I will be fixing this for you in no time.
Me: (glancing sheepishly at the growing agitation of the crowd) Please I really just want my money back so I'll come back later okay.
Apu: (ignoring me now and adamant he'll get this damn can open)
Me to Olivia Newton John: I'm sooo sorry to keep you waiting. (while giving her my best rendition of apologetic puppy eyes)
Sandra D: (not buying any of it and in sarcastic tone) Don't worry about it. Clearly your beetroot is very important to you.
Me: (ready to crawl under a rock and die)
p.s. After all that once he managed to get the bloody thing open it spilled all over the counter and my lunch break was wasted as well as creating a mess.
Oh well no use crying over spilled beetroot...
