Today, Lottie and Gigs ran errands with me where we visited
BBW to get Ollie some
welcome-back-to-the-world smells, soaps, sprays, and lotions.
Gigs helped me choose.
I told Gigs I'd buy him some if he took a girl out on a date this week.
He said he would. I asked who he was going to ask out,
and he said his motorcycle.
After our final stop, at the pet store for crickets
for Gigs' critters, we decided to have dinner.
We chose a pizza place that our family
regulars and loves, except this time, it was the worst.
Do businesses not train employees anymore?
I ordered our pizza from a girl who looked
like she was about to kill and bury me herself.
After we paid, I was notified that
they were out of tomatoes, basil, and salad.
Because I am an introverted-non-confrontational chicken,
I wrote a 1-star Google review.
I had my big-girl-boss pants on when I wrote it.
But, you know that time after the lights are out and you are laying
your head on the pillow, ready with your first-class ticket to dreamland
but all you think are ALL the things
you did wrong, or you didn't do, where you dropped the ball,
who you didn't talk to, the e-mails you ignored, the child you didn't
connect with, and the dishwasher you forgot to start.
Or is that just me?
Anyway, I felt terrible about the 1-star review I wrote and SENT.
*UPDATE, Pizza join reached out: