I've never had a "Best Friend".
Wait. That's a lie.
I haven't had a best friend since 1989. Her name was Melanie and she lived next door. I thought we were going to be best friends forever. I was six. What did I know?
I knew that she was the only person I could tell all my secrets to. I knew that she was better than a sister because I was never bored with her. I knew that we were going to be friends forever.
And I was soooo wrong. Just about the third part though. Because the rest of it is still true to this day. But when my family moved away from Panama, I thought that Melanie was coming too. I was wrong again. And it hurt so badly that I promised myself that I would never have another best friend.
I was right that time. It totally made sense for me to not let anyone else in because after the 3 years in California my family moved every year. Every year!!
Can you imagine if I'd spread my secrets all over the globe like that?!? Ay Carumba!
Most people think that I'm cold. Some call me elitest. Others go straight for the heart and say that I'm prejudiced. And I'm not going to say that any of them are wrong. But they left out the part about being changed.
I never knew, or rather had forgotten, what it would be like to have a best friend. That person that you tell your secrets to. The one that accepts you for 100% of yourself. Someone who forgives you your trespasses even if you dont know you trespassed. The friend whose house you can walk into and have a meal or raid the fridge. The first person you call when things are going bad AND when they're good.
I forgot that until today at 5pm on the dot. That's when Mrs. G called me. She called because when everything about this week became too much and went to hell I told her. And she called at the first opportunity.
It occured to me after I hung up the phone that she weaseled her way into my measly little heart. Mrs. G, I just wish you'd told me that you were a ninja. We could've used your skills for profit. =)
As I strolled through the mall with my fresh-from-the-oven peacn Cinnabon and on my BFF high, I passed Panera Bread and said to myself "this would be way better than Taco Bell".
I stroll in and break away from my normal meal of pick two-ness and decide on a cafe sandwich. I just want the turkey one without mustard. She takes my order, she picked the wrong bread. We fix that and I pay. The kid on the assembly line says, "How do you make a Sierra Turkey without mustard".
Got damn that prick!!
Prick: How do you make a Sierra Turkey without mustard? *teenage boy snicker*
Me: I don't like mustard. Don't put mustard on it.
Prick: How am I supposed to do that? heh. heh.
Me: Just don't. It's a fresh-made sandwich. How hard can it be?
Nice Girl at Register: I would think it'd be easier with fewer ingredients.
Nice boy beginning my sandwich: Dude, just stop.
Prick: Well then what are we supposed to put on it.
NB: Do you want mayo still? And lettuce?
Me: Yes, please. Whatever comes on it just not mustard.
Prick: Where'd you even get mustard?
Me (ready to punch his mustachioed face): It says it comes with mayo, mustard, lettuce, tomato, onion, salt and pepper. I don't want mustard.
NB: I can add tomato if you'd like.
Me: That's fine.
Prick: Only the ham and swiss and the country turkey come with that stuff. You got the Sierra Turkey.
Me: IS MY DISDAIN FOR MUSTARD GOING TO BE A PROBLEM!!!!!! BECAUSE I AM MORE THAN WILLING TO TELL YOUR MANAGER HOW MY CONDIMENT PREFERENCE IS AN ISSUE FOR YOU.
Prick: *heavy teenage boy sigh* I'm just saying you were wrong.
Greg (the only person in a Panera shirt over 21 and therefore the likely Shift Manager): Hello Ma'am. Is everything alright with your sandwich.
Me: Yes. Nice Boy made my sandwich perfectly. But Prick... he has a thing about mustard.
Yup. It happened just like that.