Atleast I Had My Orange Juice

Have you seen the new Florida Orange Juice commercials? I'm obsessed. I wish I could find a link to it, but basically, a little boy is sitting at the table drinking his orange juice with a group of people he will encounter throughout the day. Like his teacher, who announces she will surprise the class with a pop quiz on his least favorite subject, math. And his principal, who announces he will get in trouble later on in the day. And his female friend who says she will pass him a note that will end up getting him in trouble. And finally, his mom, who says she will ban all TV and video games until he cleans his room. The little boy takes all this bad news in stride. He takes a sip of his orange juice and smiles. "Well, at least I had my orange juice."

That's my everyday. I'm not complaining at all; I love my life. I have been very blessed and I truly do love life. I do, however, encounter petty little situations throughout the day that have lately been prompting me to say, "well, at least I had my orange juice."



Like 10 minutes ago when my credit card wouldn't work at the sandwich place on campus. It's the busiest time of day and students are lined up out the door. I wait patiently for 15 minutes for my sandwich and can't wait to sit down, read the newspaper, and enjoy my sandwich.



I hand the cashier my card, she swipes it, says it won't work, and hands it back.



"Well...could you try it again? It worked this morning when I stopped for gas.."



She sighs and holds out her grubby paw.



"It won't work. Could you please step out of the way so other people can actually pay for their food?"



I made this face:





Excuse me? I NEVER walk in a room demanding every one's attention and utmost respect. Usually, I keep to myself, smile at strangers, hold the door for anyone who is behind me, yet remain silent. But just because my credit card doesn't work, I DO NOT deserve to be tossed aside like a piece of trash who can't pay for half of a sandwich. Regardless of what she may think, I do have money, it's obviously a malfunction of the machine and/or the black strip on my card, and even though I know she cannot do anything about it, her attitude just plain-out sucked.



I get mad. I bite my bottom lip, like I usually do when I get mad. I'm wearing boots and I have the urge to kick that ugly little scowl off her face. But I breathe. I smile. And I say, "Oh well, at least I had my orange juice." She looked at me like I was a loony. But I didn't care, because she had already formed her opinion of me the moment her cash register declined my card. And I had already formed my opinion of her the moment she blabbed out that snooty remark. And I know who's opinion was more accurate.



Anyway, I got my sandwich. The lady next to scowl-faced beast heard what was going on, called me over, told me they had been having trouble with their machines lately, punched in the number, and apologized for the inconvenience. I thanked her for being nice.

And here I am. Stuffing my face with a turkey sandwich and blogging about how I almost didn't get it. I did have my orange juice this morning, though, so I probably would have been okay without the sandwich.