For the love of BLT sandwiches!!!
Since Saturday, I haven’t been able to feel anything. This Is Our Youth (i was stage manager) finished its run at the Havana Theatre on Saturday, and I filmed a program called “Silent No More – Stop Violence Against Women” on Sunday, in which I was sexually assulted in a date rape situation. I literally could not feel anything, emotionally. It was like I was inside a thick glove, and couldn’t feel happy or sad or anything, really. I felt the pain, but the tears were not happening. Something happened to me on saturday that made me just unable to feel anything. I guess I was just shocked that the run of the play was over.
Until today.
The first day of school. 3 years away from SFU and today I’m back.
Today, I ordered a sandwich from Raven’s Cafe(teria) at Simon Fraser University.
A toasted BLT on brown bread, with 3 circular slices of dill pickle on the side (they’re free).
I then went to pay for it at the cashier.
She did all sorts of fancy button pushing on the machine, talking on and on the entire time, saying, if I enter it this way, it’s $5.34 instead of $5.36 and you save two cents blah blah blah. I really wasn’t following her because on the menu my BLT was $4.10 including GST, and I had no idea what she was going on and on about. So, being me, I asked for a receipt (had to ask twice), to figure out what was going on, after the fact, so that I would have a record, in case I was being overcharged.
After I re-checked the price on the menu at the counter, it turned out that I WAS being overcharged, so I went back a couple of minutes later to get a refund.
Apparently, there are two types of BLT sandwiches, and it depends which counter you order from: the burger counter (toasted – the one I got), or the sandwich counter. The burger counter BLT costs $4.10 including tax, and the sandwich counter BLT costs $5something (apparently either 5.34 or 5.36, according to the lady, according to how she enters it into the till).
Who would’ve figured? Not me, that’s for sure.
So then, the lady says to me, “that’s why I asked you which one you got!” .
When she asked me this in the original transaction, I remember saying, “It’s a BLT”.
So THEN, she makes this consternated thinking face, and tries to figure out how in the world she’s going to refund the money because it’s already in the computer (I guess they don’t get food returns too often), eventually saying that she’s going to go ask someone in the back office, and for me to wait at the counter.
She disappears, and I wait.
And wait.
And wait.
And I tell two people that I’m waiting for a refund because they’re wondering where to pay for their food because there’s nobody at the till.
And wait.
I swear she was gone for 5 minutes.
Like, long enough to take a really luxurious bathroom break.
Then she comes back, saying that the lady in the back will try to change it in the computer system. So she takes my receipt, and starts scribbling on the back. “5.34 minus a dollar (something i don’t remember what she was writing down…i shall call it “X”) difference is a dollar (something I shall call this “Y”) but since I already gave you sixteen cents change that comes to a dollar oh-eight”.
At this point, it’s my turn to look at her with this consternated look on MY face, thinking, “why are you factoring in what change you gave me?” BECAUSE, of course, obviously, it doesn’t matter how much I originally gave her, as long as she gave me the correct change the first time and I paid her a grand total of $5.34. So I ask her to explain again. So she explains whatever her method is. To me, it was obviously not correct.
In my mind:
It should’ve been 5.34 (incorrect price charged) minus 4.10 (correct price) equals the change she owed me.
It should’ve been VEEEEERRRRY simple math.
She should be GIVING me $1.24.
What she was explaining:
5.34 minus the difference minus the 16 cents change i already gave you means that I owe you a dollar oh eight.
And then, she looked at me, and said, “You’re getting this? “
Me:”No…”
Her: “What don’t you get? You’re in school, right?” and proceeds to explain her whole method again, to my stupefied face.
As if I’m stupid. She explains it all again, as if it’s totally correct and I’m just not getting it.
Her: “You still don’t get it? What do you want?”
Me: “All I want…is to have lunch”.
So I took the $1.08 that she gave me (a loonie and 8 pennies, no less) and wandered over to where Steve was waiting.
And then I put down my sandwich on the table
And then I walked outside to the patio (empty)
And then I screamed, AAAAAAAGGGHHHHH to the mountains.
And then I came back in and apologized to the people that had stopped eating their lunch to look at me, checking me out to see if 1. I was crazy 2. If I was alright 3. If they should run for their lives.
And then I sat down, and promptly started feeling.
And the tears started flowing
And I experienced all the pain and trauma that had been shut off since Saturday.
And I couldn’t eat my sandwich.
Maybe I just don’t like being told I’m wrong and being made to feel stupid, when I know for a fact I am not wrong.
So Steve went up and sorted it out with her because I couldn’t deal.
Eventually, she came over to our table with the correct change, after consulting with somebody in the back room.
I couldn’t stop being very upset. All for a BLT sandwich. And the 16 cents that she couldn’t see was missing.
No, not just for a BLT Sandwich.
For the play that ended Saturday (great run, just stunned it was over)
For the experience of being sexually assaulted (an acting role, not the real thing)
Okay, maybe a little bit for the BLT Sandwich.
I think the pain of thinking about sexual assault for an entire weekend finally came out in those BLT sandwich tears and sobs. She just got to me, you know? And it’s like once I start crying, I cry about everything that I have needed to cry about for the past week. So it’s probably not even a sandwich issue!
It was like…a dollar something that she over charged me. I’m not poor enough that a dollar is life or death to me – it’s the principles of charging the right amount, and giving correct refunds that got me. I just HATE confrontation with a passion. I HATE being made to feel stupid.
Better Luck (Love) Tomorrow. BLT Sandwiches.
I will cry for 16 cents, but only if you know which buttons to push
And to top it all off, I just discovered that I spilt coffee on the course materials that I was planning to return to distance ed.
Fuck me.
In tears, I went to the furthest edge of the parking lots by residence, on the edge of a cliff, picked a couple handfuls of blackberries, and ate my BLT sandwich.
And wrote this.
And stared into the nothingness of the forest.
And now I feel very at peace.
Thinking back, the poor woman was trying to HELP me save two cents. Which is so cool now that I think about it…it just so happened that she couldn’t do math (but thought she could).
The one redeeming point of this story is that the BLT sandwich was really good.
Probably one of the best I’ve ever had.
Lucky.
