Is it ever ok to verbally abuse the Subway staff??

Seriously…I eat Subway practically every day for lunch. I order the same exact thing every day. I just call and say “Hey this is Aleta, I wanted to place my order.” That takes care of it….

HOWEVER, there is one worker there that it NEVER fails, anytime he answers my call, I’ll get there in like 10-15 minutes and he’s “forgotten to do it.” Seriously? How hard is it? WRITE IT DOWN. Now, believe you me, I understand when it’s busy. But it infuriates me to no end when I walk in there and there are 2 people in line, the place is fairly empty and he’s “forgotten.” It just ticks me off.

I will say that I’ve become a bit of a princess here lately (as painful as it is to admit). Typically when the above happens, there is annoyed sighing, eye rolling, and foot tapping (an maybe a death glare or two given) involved on my part. So maybe he does it to teach me a lesson of some sort (rolling my eyes as I write this). It would be in his best interest not to teach me too many lessons, lest I call the owner or just find somewhere else to eat.

Lately I have been trying to make the effort to exercise in the afternoons. I have also been trying to diet. Trying is the key word here. (I might add here that trying to follow the routine of your favorite author that has a personal trainer might not be such a good idea. A few weeks ago there was an incident that involved me, KW, BJ’s restaurant, and legs that would not bend). Here is something that I’ve figured out though…

Exercise makes me angry.

While endorphins are supposed to make people happy, I’m beginning to think they have the opposite effect on me. I don’t know if it’s just the events that take place while I’m outside exercising or what…but it is not good.

Scene 1:

I’m going on my 2- mile walk one afternoon. My phone rings. I answer it. It’s the State of Florida Insurance…they want to know if I’ll be a part of a special program. I tell them I’m not interested and that they really should talk to my mother, seeing as how I am on my mom’s insurance. I don’t want to have anything to do with making decisions that might affect my mom’s insurance bill. 5 minutes of arguing occur as I stand on the side of the road nearly shouting into my phone like a crazy person. Finally, the insurance people give up and call my mom. Argh….

Scene 2:

I am walking yet another afternoon when I notice a speeding black car coming at me. Not only does he dust me, but he drives like a bat out of hell down our 25 mph road. The car stops as I am waving my fist in the air at them. They turn around and dust me again. THEN, the jerks speed off down a side road, only to return minutes later, flying through the stop sign about taking out my uncle’s fence. As they roll past me again, I get their license plate number and call the sheriff’s office. Needless to say, I haven’t seen the hooligans back.

Scene 3:

After walking, doing crunches, doing squash the marshmallows (my name for it), push-ups, leg lifts, etc….I put on my jeans this morning. Can I tell a bit of difference? No. In fact, my butt looks bigger. Is this some kind of cruel irony? Is this God’s way of testing my patience? I might be getting “more firm,” but there sure isn’t less of me yet.