My Bad Day
This morning I drove by the definition of a bad day.
There was a young woman with a baby on her hip standing along the side of the road because she’d been in a fender-bender.
With a police car.
She rear-ended a police car. And was holding a wailing baby.
It made me put my own bad day into perspective. My day was not so bad.
BUT…
… it was bad enough.
For starters, I’m having technology difficulties.
My MacBook Air, which I love as much as I love one of my children, has issues with the touchpad. And in correcting the problem somehow I uninstalled all of Microsoft Office, which means that Outlook and Excel, the computer programs that make my life worth living, are not working.
Just to update this website over the weekend was a challenge.
In fact, this technology difficulty forced me to jump through three hoops and ride bareback to the depot in order to get blog posts up!
(Not really. I just had to do all of my typing on ‘Ol Reliable, the Blackberry. I know, I know, Life Is Hard.)
After dealing with the frustration of my technology and impending doom of having to possibly spend $200 on Microsoft Office in order to make life complete again, I was not expecting to run into difficulties with the copy machine at work.
Which was out of a toner, producing practically unreadable pages of copies for the class I taught today.
That class was filled with a few students who found whatever was on their laptops more interesting than my lecture.
I learned from the story of the university professor who shut a students’ laptop on her fingers and was arrested for assault and didn’t touch the equipment.
But I did stop class and pointedly ask if I was boring them. Yeah, I’m the instructor who demands eye contact and attention. I have this crazy idea that if I prepare several hours for a class my students should have the decency to feign interest for the hour it takes to teach – an hour they are actually paying to participate in.
Well, enough of that soapbox.
I left class, on a mission to pick the girls up from school and stopped at Taco Bell, a perineal favorite.
In fact, in the movie Demolition Man when Sandra Bullock said, “All restaurants are Taco Bell now” it definitely sounded like the definition of a celestial promised land to me!
But today they charged me for a full nacho when I only wanted a side of chips.
And for some obscure reason, the price of human relation hip was less than $.40 (which was the difference between the side of chips and the price of the nachos).
I’m ashamed to say I pinned that Taco Bell customer service dude with a well-thought out arguement about the prices of items on the menu and he finally looked at me with desperation and said,
“Ma’am, I don’t know why things are priced like this but I have thirty extra cents and I’m going to give it to you.” (Please, please just go away was implicit in his offer.)
I told him to keep his thirty cents and drove away.
And then, when I tried to get my chips out of the bag, they were missing.
There’s a moral to this story somewhere, but I’m not sure what it is right now.
Can you see the moral of the story? Help me out with your suggestions in the comments… 😉