So Not The Time To Be Social

On a recent trip to Florida, my husband, mother-in-law, and I go for breakfast at a bakery that was recommended to us. It is one of those little places in a strip mall that sells bagels, eggs, and, because it’s Florida, fresh-squeezed orange juice. When I am a millionaire, I am getting a professional juicer for fresh orange juice every day!

As we park the car and prep our masks, a huge pickup truck dragging a small trailer hitch behind it parks diagonally across the six or seven spots next to us. Already we can tell this is a kind and conscientious person

Out steps a dude who’s maybe in his fifties. He hops out of his truck and struts toward the bakery. Despite the “masks required” sign on the door, inside the bakery, many customers and even one of the workers are much less compliant, including our friend with the truck. We line up and place our orders to go, and I wait outside with my mother-in-law while my husband bravely sacrifices himself to wait inside for our food

We wait outside for what feels like forever, and finally, my husband emerges from the bakery with all the bags of food and the buzzing energy of “let’s just get out of here and I’ll tell you the story later.”

In the car, he tells us what happened.

Husband: “While the few workers who were in there ran around, some poor guy showed up for his first day of work, and nobody knew about it or what to do with him. They had to make some phone calls to sort things out, and parts of orders were missing as a result of the chaos. Meanwhile, our parking champion friend was chatting up all the workers and distracting them. He even turned to the new worker and asked him what high school he went to. Like now is a good time to chit-chat about this poor guy’s personal history and resume! Why do you care? You haven’t been to high school in decades! And who elected you the mayor of this bakery? Can you please socialize with your friends instead of busy workers who are not paid enough to give you mediocre bagels?”