There are a lot of people hurting out there right now: they've lost their investments, their retirement, their job, or their home. Now I can be added to the list. We went to the local bar and grill Saturday night (yes, I know I said I was going to stay home Saturday nights but I thought perhaps for once things would go well). An acquaintance's band was playing and he'd mentioned some interesting covers they did like old Jefferson Airplane and Jethro Tull songs. I ordered a fried chicken salad because I had my heart set on pie ala mode for dessert. The band was playing some pretty dorky country songs -- turns out the old rock songs don't come out till late. Oh well, there's still the pie. I finally caught the attention of the waitress (who was pretty worthless, and was named - brace yourself - Cayenne!) She consulted her pad and said they were down to lemon meringue and gooseberry. Yikes. Meringue was out of the question so I ordered the gooseberry. I've seen geese in the fields the past week as they come back north for the spring, so I guess there's a good supply of gooseberries. The waitress reappears about five minutes -- empty-handed -- and says they are totally out and nobody told her. I gave her a steely glare and asked for the check. Which had a $3 charge for pie on it. Feh.
Do you understand how terrible this was? To be promised pie and then have it taken away?
I don't think losing your house can really compare.
