Wrongs Righted?

I am one of those people who embarrasses you in a public place by taking back the cold fries and asking for a new batch, knowing that while the cook is probably spitting in them, as least they'll be hot. And it's not just that it will be hot, but JUSTICE will have been served; a wrong righted.

A week ago I pulled through Chick-fil-a for a quick and somewhat healthy, grilled chicken sandwich on wheat bun. After pulling over to situate before getting back on the road, I opened my sandwich to apply a nice, slathering of mayonnaise, only to find a winged bug creature lying dead, in the fetal position atop my generous slice of tomato. To be fair, it was tiny, I could barely see it and would definitely not known different if I'd gone to town on it instead of adding a condiment. Regardless, this was not acceptable, I was grossed out. Chic-fil-a is as reputable a fast food chain as there exists in this glorious land of capitalism, so I knew that the manager would be more than eager to handle the situation with the usual graveling and gratuity granted by the situation. Such was the case, and I ate, somewhat hesitantly, a bug free grilled chicken sandwich just five minutes later (for the record, in case anyone from Chic-fil-a Corporation is reading this, I know you sometimes do. I was offered a free brownie or soft drink for my trouble, but decided it would defeat the purpose of eating a healthy sandwich to add to it a side of sugar).

Wrong righted, right? Well what about this next scenario. Shell gas station car wash. Yeah, are you reading this Mr. Corporate Shell, oil mogle? We (speaking for the civilized world, because it's happened to all of us) are tired of your cut rate car washes that charge top dollar and leave our cars with the same amount of dirt, but just in different places. I drove through a shell car wash this week and paid $7 for the Silver Wash, so I didn't scrimp, I went for the upgrade with the extra rinse cycle. Well apparently, I forgot to pay extra for them to use SOAP!!! I essentially paid $7 for a spritz and then for those nasty noodle things to push the dirt around a bit, leaving it more obviously dirty than before when the dust was evenly distributed, so it just looked like a grey car instead of a blue one. So while Kent is laughing at how fired up I'm getting over it, I'm pulling back around to the attendant station to demand a refund. The attendant appears to understand me, but it also appears that English is not his native language, so when I'm handed a receipt that appears to be a refund, I walk away satisfied, until I'm on the freeway and I realize that it's a credit, FOR ANOTHER CUT RATE CAR WASH! As if, I would ever go back there again! Kent is going to use it though, he says his truck could use a rinse.

Tonight takes the cake. Early this afternoon, between recruiting visits, I did laundry in the shared laundry facility at my apartment complex. I left my last load in the dryer while I went back to work for a few hours, and when I returned, my clothes were gone. Now, I've seen people take clothes out of the machine and put them on top because a negligent user left them after the cycle ended, but really, who steals clothes out of a dryer? Put them on the floor even, but really? You're going to steal a beach towel and some used undies? So, there's nothing I can do right? There's no one to complain to, no eager manager or laundry attendant? WRONG. I wrote a note. I am going to assume that someone took the clothes on accident, thinking it was one of their loads, and will realize it and return them to the laundry room, where they will see my note and return them to my apartment, no questions asked. Riiiight. Kent asked me if someone did put them back, if I would wash them again. Seriously? I've lost a load of my belongings, and you ask if I'd wash them again if they showed up. This coming from the guy who wears clothes he just bought without washing them. Ew. I mean, what, is someone going to terrorize my laundry with harmful chemicals? Oh, now there is a clever terrorist act--put harmful skin irritants in public laundry machines. Ba ha ha ha! But seriously, Osama Bin Laundry, give me my beach towel and underware back. Or at least let me give you the other towel, they match and it's no fun having just one. The underware you can keep, it was time for new ones, if you know what I mean.