So, dressed in my 3 piece suit and high heeled boots, en route to complete my errands during my lunch hour, I decided to stop at Wendy’s for a bite to eat. Blaming my voracious appetite on my increased metabolism rather than wanton greed, I placed a huge order, and I was quite looking forward to munching on my fries as I drove along in the car. Seems as if the fries can never make it to my ultimate destination, and when I reach, my belly full.
When I stepped into Wendy’s, I swallowed my sigh of disappointment and adopted a screw face when I saw the long line, which included several school kids that I felt were decidedly in need of a few disciplinary slaps, but I held my cool, and decided to brave the line.
Time progressed as I inched forward in the line at a snail’s pace, gradually watching my lunch hour slip away, all with the thought that I had so many errands to complete, and so little time. I trudged along like a good little soldier, shuffling along in the line, glaring at a schoolboy that bumped me as he was roughhousing, mentally cussing and fuming, but I had to suck it up, because I was hungry.
As I reached the top of the line, and the wonderful cashier yelled next, I dove to her station, already tasting the biggie fries. Knowing that my eyes were bigger than my stomach, I placed my large order and confidently handed over my debit card to settle my $11.00 bill, countenance more pleasant, as my plight was soon at an end. I even made some small talk with the nice cashier and the pleasant gentleman that was standing at the station next to me. He was a hottie.
Two minutes later, the nice cashier returned with my card, and advised that the transaction had failed. I know she never had to bellow the information so loud, as her statement resounded around the restaurant with the efficiency of a politician’s megaphone. The restaurant went silent as all and sundry gasped, and all heads turned to my general direction. The pleasant cashier was now an evil bitch.
Sirens went off at her announcement, and a disco ball appeared over my head. I was now wearing a Scarlet Letter on my chest, namely “D” for Debtor. Scandalised, I looked at the evil bitch, who now had a pitying somewhat sneering, superior look on her face, and told her to swipe the card again. The sandwich preparers and fries deliverers in the back all ceased and desisted with the preparation of my meal, as they awaited the outcome of the final swipe.
Cocking her eyebrow, as if she knew that it was a futile endeavor, she arrogantly sauntered over to the machine and swiped the card again. My armpits and my palms were sweating, and I now felt pale from the shame. The Hottie beside me was no longer speaking to me, and no longer made eye contact. The throbbing mob in line behind me were all about to riot from the long wait, as I was the only thing standing between them and their biggie fries. I listened in fear and humiliation as the muttering and sighing resounded in my ears. I prayed as I had never prayed before.
But, as I am cool and somewhat stalwart chick, I maintained a level head, staunching the flow of sweat from my armpits with a subtle squeeze, adopting a confident, arrogant and irate look, knowing this to be an error, and that good will ultimately prevail over evil. I’s gots monies. How dare they!
Needless to say, young miss returned with the evidentiary slip, marked “Exhibit A”, showing that my transaction had once again failed, and the servers in the back immediately began to rewind the preparation of my order. My fries were tossed back. My drink tossed in the disposable thingy, and they even dismantled my sandwich, and returned the lettuce to its container. My stomach grumbled in protest, as the oasis of food disappeared.
Donning the cloak of my pride, I delicately removed my card from the evil bitch’s grip, flipped my handbag over my shoulders in indignation and left the establishment with my Scarlet D flashing from my chest. I did hear something akin to snickering and giggles as I exited, but my pride refuses to dwell on this. I had a glamorous parting shot as I threatened to call the bank and give them a piece of my mind, but I know that this would not assuage my pride, the shame meted out in Wendy’s, and my hungry belly.
Turns out that I had closed my bank account from the week before, and my card was no longer valid. The bank had called me repeatedly to pick up my new card, but I never paid them any mind because they were just harassing a busy woman. Needless to say, shame drove me to the bank that very afternoon, and my new card is now in hand. I will require a six month hiatus until I can return to that branch of Wendy's, or until the evil bitch is rolled over by the Immigration Department, whichever comes first.
When I stepped into Wendy’s, I swallowed my sigh of disappointment and adopted a screw face when I saw the long line, which included several school kids that I felt were decidedly in need of a few disciplinary slaps, but I held my cool, and decided to brave the line.
Time progressed as I inched forward in the line at a snail’s pace, gradually watching my lunch hour slip away, all with the thought that I had so many errands to complete, and so little time. I trudged along like a good little soldier, shuffling along in the line, glaring at a schoolboy that bumped me as he was roughhousing, mentally cussing and fuming, but I had to suck it up, because I was hungry.
As I reached the top of the line, and the wonderful cashier yelled next, I dove to her station, already tasting the biggie fries. Knowing that my eyes were bigger than my stomach, I placed my large order and confidently handed over my debit card to settle my $11.00 bill, countenance more pleasant, as my plight was soon at an end. I even made some small talk with the nice cashier and the pleasant gentleman that was standing at the station next to me. He was a hottie.
Two minutes later, the nice cashier returned with my card, and advised that the transaction had failed. I know she never had to bellow the information so loud, as her statement resounded around the restaurant with the efficiency of a politician’s megaphone. The restaurant went silent as all and sundry gasped, and all heads turned to my general direction. The pleasant cashier was now an evil bitch.
Sirens went off at her announcement, and a disco ball appeared over my head. I was now wearing a Scarlet Letter on my chest, namely “D” for Debtor. Scandalised, I looked at the evil bitch, who now had a pitying somewhat sneering, superior look on her face, and told her to swipe the card again. The sandwich preparers and fries deliverers in the back all ceased and desisted with the preparation of my meal, as they awaited the outcome of the final swipe.
Cocking her eyebrow, as if she knew that it was a futile endeavor, she arrogantly sauntered over to the machine and swiped the card again. My armpits and my palms were sweating, and I now felt pale from the shame. The Hottie beside me was no longer speaking to me, and no longer made eye contact. The throbbing mob in line behind me were all about to riot from the long wait, as I was the only thing standing between them and their biggie fries. I listened in fear and humiliation as the muttering and sighing resounded in my ears. I prayed as I had never prayed before.
But, as I am cool and somewhat stalwart chick, I maintained a level head, staunching the flow of sweat from my armpits with a subtle squeeze, adopting a confident, arrogant and irate look, knowing this to be an error, and that good will ultimately prevail over evil. I’s gots monies. How dare they!
Needless to say, young miss returned with the evidentiary slip, marked “Exhibit A”, showing that my transaction had once again failed, and the servers in the back immediately began to rewind the preparation of my order. My fries were tossed back. My drink tossed in the disposable thingy, and they even dismantled my sandwich, and returned the lettuce to its container. My stomach grumbled in protest, as the oasis of food disappeared.
Donning the cloak of my pride, I delicately removed my card from the evil bitch’s grip, flipped my handbag over my shoulders in indignation and left the establishment with my Scarlet D flashing from my chest. I did hear something akin to snickering and giggles as I exited, but my pride refuses to dwell on this. I had a glamorous parting shot as I threatened to call the bank and give them a piece of my mind, but I know that this would not assuage my pride, the shame meted out in Wendy’s, and my hungry belly.
Turns out that I had closed my bank account from the week before, and my card was no longer valid. The bank had called me repeatedly to pick up my new card, but I never paid them any mind because they were just harassing a busy woman. Needless to say, shame drove me to the bank that very afternoon, and my new card is now in hand. I will require a six month hiatus until I can return to that branch of Wendy's, or until the evil bitch is rolled over by the Immigration Department, whichever comes first.
On that note, I shall now exit.
Ta.
16 comments:
You really make dem ting deh bodder you? Nowadays when I hand over my card, I say, "Lets see if the card will work.". This gets them on your side up front, as they fervently hope it will work too. When it doesn't they sigh, and say, "Nuh worry, my yute, it will work nex' time", and then when they give you back your card, they furtively squeese something into your hand, and when you look, guess what it is? Nuh one biggie fries!
Hmprh. Now unnu tell me!!!
Hahaha. Omg, this was funny. hey 'Fro, sorry to be laughing at your embarassment but your recounting of it was so funny, I was just cracking up before I even knew what the outcome was going to be. Oh Jeez, I need that good laugh. awww.
Anyway, listen, dem things don't even embarass me anymore. Up to yesterday my ncb card declined when i went to the supermarket. I was a little surprised when the woman muttered transaction failed, but just hand her the cash in my bag. When she gave me back the card, I realized that I picked up the wrong credit card in my haste to go.
Sometimes the card decline because I'd make a payment in the morning and the wretched peoople would tell me two hours time so I'd go in the NIGHT confident that several 2hours had passed, only to have the darn card decline. I've learnt though that I'm not to use the card until the next day whenever I make a payment.
It doesn't bother me anymore, I just make sure I have other cards (atm or credit) or cash to back me up.
Or sometimes the dam card fail cuz something go wrong at the bank, that happened to me too. So now, it's a non-event cuz it doesn't necessarily mean that you're broke.
That was a darn funny read though.
Happens to me all the time. I don't feel no way.
My tude:
Fcuk it -- if your that interested in my finances pay for it bytch!
decline is a regular part of my vocabulary since i paying for school so it don't have any effect anymore.
Well written post. I feel your pain lady. I love me some biggie fries in my cup holder as I dirve along... greasing up the steering.
For real don't feel no way tho.. I NEVER ever ever have cash. So I often end up leaving stuff that can't be paid for with credit debit cards. I think is yuh belly more than yuh ego did vex that day.
:)
Well spun tale Afroditee. I'd feel embarassed too. Never mind that cashier. Just feel comfortable in the fact that you're earning above minimum wage.
Lol,fall down funny. Poor You.You got to march right back in and redeem yourself:)
Yes iyah, I'm with Abeni. Gwans back di deh tamarrah and boldly awda di same ting, ent? Mek sure yuh get di same cashier as well, dat likkle renkin' sinting!
hey at least you looked good!!
Hey Ms. Anon!!!
U sure know how to put things in perspective!!!
Try so fin' a proper name and use next time, before I start t block ur backside!
Cho.
"Donning the cloak of my pride, I delicately removed my card from the evil bitch’s grip, flipped my handbag over my shoulders in indignation and left the establishment with my Scarlet D flashing from my chest" now that is the perfect reaction . Dont mind them go back there with the new card and swipe large fries, large sanwich and large drink to go LOL
Jus cool Afro. Come lets go Wendys Monday, nah?
Ri: You payin'? Your son still owe me money!
What a well-told tale of woe. I was laughing...and going eek eek for you.
Lawks some o' them comments here crack me up. Watch that MB only charming them girls to get free fries.
Always have some extra cash in your purse, my mother says to me all the time.
Guess what the word verification is? nPAYsm
LOL!! How embarassing! I remember having my card declined at the gas station. I an still recall the attendant signalling to me from across the gass station that it declined. It seemed that I had maxed out the card on a previous purchase and my payment hadn't gone through as yet. Fortunately I had another card with some change on it. I guess it happens to the best of us.
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