My honey (mustard)

We made the mistake of going to the food court at the mall for dinner on Saturday night. (I know, I know. We live in the best city in the world and we end up at the mall food court for dinner.) As much as I like Arby's, I've been disappointed by this particular one a few times, so my new go-to is Popeye's. And since the lines at Burger King and Taco Bell were snaking back through the tables, that sealed the deal. So I wait in line at Popeye's. Longer than usual. Then I finally get to the counter and give my (very simple) order. The incompetent girl is silent. She stares at me. Then says, "Huh, what?" So I repeat the order. She takes her sweet time putting together my box of chicken fingers and fries. Another girl is leaving, and my incompetent girl starts complaining about how she wishes she was leaving. I tell her with my eyes that I am NOT HAPPY. I pay her. She says, "I ain't got no pennies." Instead of asking me politely to wait while she tracks down pennies so she can give me my complete change. I wave it off and tell her to forget it. I finally get my food. I ask for honey mustard. "We don't got no honey mustard." Me, agitated: "You don't have any honey mustard?" Incompetent girl: "No." Me, in a huff: "Fine, forget it."

I sit down, more than annoyed that I have no honey mustard for my chicken fingers. I relay my story to my husband, who (quick eater that he is) is nearly done with his dinner. He gets up and goes away (the opposite direction of Popeye's). And comes back with a few chicken wings. And honey mustard. For my chicken fingers. Cause he is just that spicy sweet. And I love him for it.

And if you think this is sweet, you should also see Kari's pencil story.