I have to say that Friday's are really special at work, and I don't mean that in a good way. Whenever Friday rolls around, it’s like something I can’t explain. What I do know is that it would take much too long for me to go into detail about the whole day, so I’m just going to share one particular story.
Every Friday, we get our table linens from our laundry service. You would think that the delivery would be rather uneventful, but it’s actually something that no one around here looks forward to. You see, the laundry guy that we have is a real jerk. None of us can stand him, especially my sister (aka Bitter). Whenever this guy shows up, he goes straight for the refrigerator & grabs a drink, like it's his own place and he can do whatever he wants. Then, he leans up against the bar & starts talking to my sister. I can’t begin to tell you how much this infuriates her.
Laundry Guy: So, what's new?
Bitter Sister: Since last week? Nothing. Why are you talking to me? Don't you have something to do, like the laundry?
Laundry Guy: Nope, I made this my last stop, so I could stay longer.
Bitter Sister: Well, can you just hand over the table cloths & stuff, so I can go through them?
Laundry Guy: In a minute. I want to talk to you first.
Meanwhile, my mother & I are watching all of this unfold from the kitchen, and doing our best not to laugh.
After a good 10 minutes, he finally does start handing out the linens, and it’s never the right amount. Considering the company he works for has been our laundry service for ten years, you would think that they would have the numbers down by now, but no. We are always short on napkins & table cloths, and often get a bunch of the wrong size table cloths as well. My sister is always in his face about it, but it doesn't help him bring the right order when he comes again. One time she actually told him that maybe he should go back to school and learn how to count. He said, "Relax, Laundry Nazi (his choice of word, not mine). You know I just deliver. I don’t count the linens. The ladies in the laundry room do the counting."
I swear I thought my sister was going to explode, but she just shoved the invoice in his face and told him to go get the linens we needed out of his truck. Every week, she has to send him back out to his truck. Personally, I don’t think it’s the ladies in the laundry room that mess up. I swear he just does it to get my sister all riled up because he has a thing for her. (Note to self, laundry guy, that is not the way to get my sister on your good side.) Speaking of which, he also always goes for a dump (I’m so not kidding) in our men's room (my sister cleans the bathrooms, so you see where I'm going with this) when he comes by. When he finally comes out of there (followed by the most heinous smell ever), he always flashes a huge grin at my sister, and says, "So, how about a cappuccino?" (OMG, is he for real??)
By this point, my sister’s had it. Her face gets flushed, her eyes narrow into pointy daggers, her lips flatten out into a straight line, and....
Laundry Guy: Aw, what's wrong? Not in a good mood today?"
(Stupid, stupid, laundry guy, don't push Bitter's buttons. I mean, even I'm ducking for cover, and I'm in the kitchen, ten feet away.)
Bitter Sister: I'm going for a cigarette.
Laundry Guy: Smoking is a bad & expensive habit. You should quit.
Bitter Sister: (under her breath) Go f**k yourself.
Unfortunately, her going outside for a smoke means that my mother & I have to listen to him go on and on (God, help us) about nothing, until my sister makes her way back inside and he starts talking to her again. (Does this guy ever learn?) When he does eventually make his way to the door, he always says, "Nice seeing you, ladies. This is my favorite restaurant. See you next week."
I'm telling you, if looks could kill....