Ah...how I've grown soft over the Christmas vacation and snow days, like a 30 lb. neutered tuxedo cat lazing in the sun on the front porch, too lackadaisical to protest the randy Beagle having his way with me.
After a long first day back at work, topped off by a first-Monday afterschool meeting, I decided to treat myself to a 44 oz. Diet Coke. Never mind that I'd had one nearly every single day of my overlong vacation. I actually do not partake during the work week. But I saw no need to go cold turkey on the very first day back.
Perhaps I've mentioned the exorbitant price increase in 44 oz. Diet Cokes at the gas station chicken store. FIFTY CENTS MORE! That's Backroads robbery! For that very reason, I turned up my nose at the gas station chicken aroma, and headed for Voice of the Village, where I can get my magical elixir refilled at the rate of eighty cents, or free if the right person is working. Val has connections, you know.
So I grabbed my refill cup and headed inside, leaving The Pony to tend to T-Hoe, and promising him a bottle of Sprite. He only has about one a week. I bellied up to the soda fountain, filled my cup one-third full of crushed ice, and stuck it under the Diet Coke spigot. I was busying myself by wiping up a previous customer's drippings with the wet rag those clerks so kindly leave on the counter, when I glanced at my vessel and saw a stream of clear liquid cascading down. I'd shoved it under the Sprite spigot, by cracky! The one just to the left of the Diet Coke. I was a bit off-kilter, leaning over with the wipe rag. What to do, what to do? Of course I dumped out all that Sprite, and the ice as well. Can't have Sprite ice in a Diet Coke. It disturbs the palate.
I did not feel guilty about dumping. It looked like I was not the first one with that idea. There was a mini mountain of discarded ice across the grate of the soda fountain. I clunked in some fresh ice, and looked dead on to make sure I was pushing back the Diet Coke lever with the edge of my cup. Then I moved the wipe rag back over by the lid and straw cubbies. No sooner did I turn my attention back to the soda stream than the reality hit me.
THERE WAS STILL A CLEAR STREAM OF SODA FILLING MY 44 OZ. CUP!
Time slowed. I think I heard myself bellow "NOOOOOO!" in that deep, draggy slo-mo sound effect. I may or may not have used my free hand to do half a Home Alone boy aftershave imitation of The Scream.
Well. Ain't that a fine box of not-chicken? I poured that foul fluid, plus ice, out of my cup and grabbed a bottle of Sprite for The Pony from the cooler. At the counter, I tilted my empty cup. "I didn't get a refill. Your Diet Coke is running clear. It must be out."
"Is our Diet Coke out?"
"It's not out!"
"Well, it's clear. Not the way it should be."
The "It's not out!" gal went to check behind the scenes. A regular Oz was she, in back of the long double fountain, pulling all the levers, calling all the shots. I paid for The Pony's bottle of Sprite and left, a bad taste in my mouth. As if my day had not been hard enough, now Even Steven was busting my chops over a 44 oz. Diet Coke. I headed for my old Coking grounds. Filled my cup. Stepped up to the counter, ready to lose my shirt. There was no avoiding it.
"I wasn't paying attention. Was that a refill?"
"Yes. You might notice by the red Cherry Limeade stain around the top rim, and the scuff marks around the bottom. Believe me, I tried to go get an eighty-cent refill at your competitor, but they were out of Diet Coke." I tossed two dollar bills on the counter, no correct change from Val anymore, to show my displeasure with their price-gouging measures instigated at the start of the new year.
"That will be a dollar thirty-seven. Out of two dollars. Sixty-three cents back. Oh! Did you get your straw?"
"No. I have other straws. But I guess I should make sure to take one every time I come in. For a dollar thirty-seven." I think my sarcasm was lost on this one, the elder cranky lady who says every part of the transaction out loud.
Handbaskets. Factory coming soon.
You should take a whole fistful of straws, for $1.37. In fact, take two fistfuls, and stuff your purse as well.
ReplyDeleteThen, your crafty students could use the straws to create something. I wonder what they would build...
Would it be cheaper to stock up on 2 liter bottles?
ReplyDeleteI hate when those soda fountains run clear. I agree, there is something about fountain soda. I prefer them to bottled.
ReplyDeleteThere could be a teenager behind the scenes pouring Coke from a 2 liter into the fountain spigot and I'd still select the fountain drink.
How do you feel about diet root beer? I find that diet colas vary in taste much more than diet root beers.
ReplyDeleteI'm still trying to get the randy Beagle and the Tuxedo cat image out of my head. But a clear stream where there should be Diet Coke is even more twisted.
ReplyDeleteSioux,
ReplyDeleteI'll have you know, Madam, that I BUY straws for my students. They are 100 for 97 cents at Walmart. Bendy straws, We build towers, 50 straws max, 36 inches of masking tape. The tallest tower to hold a tennis ball for 15 seconds wins bonus points for the building team. It's all the rage come May. As popular as phone-booth stuffing and goldfish swallowing.
******
joeh,
Joe, Joe, Joe! Would it be more expensive to get actual alcohol in your drink instead of dirty water? Perhaps. But I think you might be pleasantly surprised at the joy such a simple investment could bring you.
*****
Linda,
Hopefully, not a teenager adjusting her retainer with her bare hand.
*****
Stephen,
I do enjoy a good diet root beer. A & W, and Barq's, and IBC if I feel daring. They must be lacking the cola caffeine, because it's just not the same as a fountain Diet Coke.
*****
Leenie,
Val's cat-unbagging emporium. Where folks come to get twisted.
I feel he same way about my Dr. Pepper 10! Nothing cuts through the crap of a long day like that first big gulp of carbonation!
ReplyDeleteKathy,
ReplyDeleteYes, but "My Dr. Pepper 10 it don't come easy" doesn't quite have the same ring to it. Shh...Sioux missed a Beatles lyric shout-out!