Yesterday was supposed to be amazing. I was finally going to get Chinese dumplings (yaaaay!) and I was going to try making Bolognese sauce for the first time for dinner. Well, the dinner got tanked almost immediately. The Boyfriend’s parents had pasta the night before and wanted to relax in their own home for a night. So move that to Thursday, no big deal.
Then I get to work, pleased because I have a fairly full schedule and I’m the kind of freak that wants to work if I’m getting paid. I know, weeeirdo. I take care of my first client, scoring a delicious hot coffee on the way back for the both of us. Then I get to the parking lot and see This Guy. This Guy is not my client, but we all take care of each other’s clients when we can, so I’ve dealt with him before. This Guy is angry at the world, feels totally abused, and it a tall, built, heavily tattooed man with a gruff, rumbling voice and isn’t afraid to get in your face. Basically, the kind of guy who scares normal people, but I brush off because I have no survival instinct. I mean, because I’ve dealt with this type a lot and if he wasn’t also an asshole, we might be friends.
Well, This Guy wants to know why the fuck his case manager isn’t here if her van is. Never mind this is a common van, OBVIOUSLY it’s hers because he wants to talk to her. So I tell him I have to deal with some things, have appointments, but I’ll try to squeeze in some time for him to get some things taken care of. Fine, he wanders off.
I pop into the waiting room to find my 1130 decided that 945 was a good time to meet. This Guy starts getting angry, wanting to know how long this will take which when I get all frosty and tell him this is why appointments are made. He terrifies my 1130-turned-945, who is now calling me worried This Guy is going to punch him. 1130-turned-945 and I get some things signed and I remind him why we’re meeting at 1130 and return to deal with This Guy. Fine, we’ll get shit from your old apartment to your new place and stop at the doctor’s, but I HAVE to be back by 1130.
I almost punched a client that day. He was driving me crazy with his “two seconds!” “one minute!” “three more minutes!”. Look, I understand that you have a mental illness BUT NARCISSIM IS NOT SOMETHING WE DEAL WITH HERE!!! Everything was about him and how things weren’t being done right for him. Ugh. Then, as it’s 1124 and I have six minutes to make a 15 minute drive, he wants to have a discussion about my name and its meanings!!! So I broke a few speed limits and arrived for the 1130 appointment at 1140.
Everything was going to be better because we were going to lunch and I was getting Chinese dumplings! Yay! What? You want to go to… McDonald’s? Fuck. Fine. Get in the car.
Then my milkshake hurt my tummy, but that’s nothing. Last client of the day, we’re having a great time, I’m relaxing, she’s doing pretty well for her. We have to go back to Radio Shack for the second time that day to exchange something. Halfway through this, the employee leans over and in a stage whisper, in front of my client says, “Ummm… your fly is unzipped.”
SHIT! I handle it, saying “Whoops, that’s an issue,” and fixing it, thinking to myself thank GOD today was an underwear day! because these are not pants that pull “fly down” with grace and quiet dignity. Also, why didn’t this guy tell me before? Or my client? Or the many other people I interacted with since my last bathroom break? Thankfully, it was eventually addressed so the number of people who got to admire my new stripy boyshorts was mercifully minimized.
So how was this day saved without me hitting my head and being a giant whiner? (Obviously I failed at not being a giant whiner…) The Boyfriend declared that since dinner plans had fallen through and I didn’t get Chinese for lunch, we should have it for dinner.
So we did. And it was glorious. Yes, Gentle Readers, I did finally get my goddamn dumplings and while the outside was yummy, but not the yummiest, the inside was SCRUMPTIOUS! Understand that my dumpling eating usually involves me taking a few tiny bites of the inside meat and flicking the rest away. It also involves my mother twitching and swearing when I do this. So when I say I ate the ENTIRE dumpling, it is a major thing. Majorly delicious.
And thus, we end this outrageously long post on a high note. Thank the Dumpling Gods.