At least once a week, my boss refers to me as the seinfeld character elaine. I think i must have some elaine tendencies. I cant exactly articulate what those are (other than my, if i must say so, exceptionally awkward, and therefore completely dead-on, version of the "elaine dance"). I recently had an experience, though, that i would characterize as "totally elaine".
Coming home from the city to my quiet apartment, i decided to stop by a restaurant to get some take-out. I chose a quaint french place nearby, decided on a salad (a big salad??) and placed my order. The hostess keyed in the order, gave me the total, and i handed her my credit card. "Oh, we actually arent taking credit cards right now." (sigh) I had cash at home, but nothing with me. Rather than heading to an ATM and throwing my money away on those dang ATM fees, i decided to change the order to delivery.
My apartment is about a 7 minute walk from this restaurant. I did my usual power walking and presumed that i would be quite a few minutes ahead of the delivery guy. So i called a friend, chatted outside and then headed into my building's lobby. I quickly noticed a delivery guy speaking to the doorman (never thought i would say i had a doorman!!), but i thought to myself "there is no way that my delivery guy would be here now!" After another couple of minutes, i figured i should check. It was indeed him! He had just left the building, and I caught him just before he was about to jump on his bike and ride away with my dinner. I apologized, which he got the gist of but didnt totally understand because of, what i would soon discover, our language barrier. He spoke NO english.
My cash was in my apt, so i gestured for him to follow me. Once in the apartment, i grabbed my money and handed him the $20. He indicated that he didnt have any change. A delivery guy with no change?!? How can that be? We tried talking to convey our points of view, but since he spoke no english, this conversation was hopeless. I stood there hoping he might give in and say (well, or gesture), "just take the food. It's my mistake that i dont have change, so go ahead and enjoy. You shouldnt be punished for my unpreparedness." No. Didn't happen. So we headed back down to see if the doorman had any change. No luck. But fortunately the guy speaking to the doorman did! He handed me 4 five's, 3 of which i gave to the delivery guy.
My salad cost around $11.50. So in my attempt to avoid the scam of an ATM fee, i spent about $3 more than i would have spent had i given in and paid the fee! (double sigh!) But that's not the end...
As i said "au revoir" to my (actually spanish) delivery guy, i received a call from the french restaurant. "We have a delivery guy there trying to get your food to you. He's been waiting for a long time. What's going on??" I finally got a word in and explained that the food/money exchange had just taken place. The woman sounded very annoyed about the whole situation. I have a strong feeling that my face and apt number will not be leaving their memories anytime soon, which means that my days of enjoying delicious french cuisine are probably over. It was a good run. I did enjoy the "big salad," with the exception of the anchovies.
But like elaine, i may try to beat the system by creating a new apartment number using the trash room across the hall.
2 comments:
Hey, I thought that was MY trash room! You best be checking with me and my roommates, M & C (you know who), before you drag us into your little shenangins, little miss little! :)
oh i am dying. i love this story. and now i will know to be nervous if i ever ask the french place to deliver when they hear our apt number! ;)
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