Entitled Harvard Student: Are you waiting to get into the print store?
Employee of Print Store: I work here. Unfortunately, the person with the keys has a family emergency. If you come back in about fifteen minutes, we'll be open, and ready to help you.

EHS: But I need something now.

EPS: Sorry. There's nothing I can do.

EHS: Isn't the whole point of a print store being open on time, and Helping People?

EPS puts her headphones on and starts looking at her phone. Like a boss.

EHS: What. Do. I. Do?

EPS: You do what I'm doing. You wait. Quietly.

Other Employee walks down stairs.

EPS: Hey.

EHS: Oh my god. Do you have the keys?

He jingles them.

EHS: Thank god. I've been waiting here for an hour.

OE: It's 10:05. We open at 10.

EHS: I am in a hurry. This is, literally, life or death.

​OE: Choose death.

I'm not a post about dreams guy, and i'm about to post about dreams, but not post A Dream I Had.


Lately, I've been having weirdly specific anxiety dreams where almost all of the dream is something that is definitely going to happen. I don't mean, I Am Having Psychic Dreams!!!! I mean, I go to sleep the night before I have to split books, and my dreams are about splitting books. Or I go to sleep the night before I travel to meet family, and I dream about traveling to meet family. And every aspect of the dream is very realistic, except one thing entirely out of whack.

In typical Waiting Tables type dreams, the aspect that is out of whack is the anxiety part. For example, a server calls out sick and suddenly you have five thousand tables, or else you get stuck talking to a table for a few minutes, and during those few minutes your other table has become unreasonable monsters demanding that you are fired.
In these dreams, all of the anxiety stuff has been real, but the out of whack part is often something that makes the anxiety dream seem disproportionately hilarious upon waking up.

For example, dreaming of splitting the books, a two day job, you must do in one day because a snow storm has delayed the books, and you know the person who said they're going to come in and help, isn't going to come in and help. In the dream, you fall behind because you are helping people in the store, and you really have to go the bathroom but you can't because the store is filled with loiterers. When the loiterers finally do empty out, you run to the bathroom. And while in the bathroom, you lean against the hot tub, and eat some of the fresh cashews dipped in melty fondue-like chocolate, and someone comes by with a cheese platter, and you keep checking the temperature of the hot tub, and wondering if you have time to take a quick dip before returning back to your anxiety dream. Like you often do at your work, where the bathroom is some sort of resort with hot tubs and cheese plates and servers and fondue. But when you leave the bathroom, there are three people waiting at the door to the store and they look annoyed. And you are still waaaaay behind in splitting the books.

Or, you're dreaming of that family member who married into your family, who is rude to everyone, especially you, is someone you absolutely have to see the next day. And in this dream they arrive early (they will arrive early in real life too, not because you have prescient dreams but because they are predictable dingleberries). They start arguing with your other family members, and you feel the need to look up to the sky and center yourself before you say something cruel you will not be able to take back, and that's when the discoball descends and there is a dance break where everyone is happy, and there is a duck doing the macarena, and then you are back in the anxiety scenario and decide that something needs to be said (about the dingleberry, not the duck doing the macarena).
I want to believe that these are my subconscious's way of telling me that my anxiety is real but also ridiculous

​I am also thinking of this as a prompt, write about a situation that causes you anxiety but give yourself a brief surreal scene that lets you escape your anxiety and see that it's both valid and ridiculous. Don't let it solve any of your problems, just give it a reprieve before diving back in.

Me: I'm a long time user of your website, and I'm currently having a problem. Whenever I try to order something from delivery I receive an error message telling me that there are no restaurants in my area that deliver. I have not moved in seven years, so I'm not sure why I am now beyond the delivery area of places that, up until last week, were able to deliver to me.

Customer Service Rep: We're sorry that there aren't any restaurants in your area that can deliver to your address. We appreciate your loyalty, and hope you will continue to use our service when a restaurant opens up in your area.

Me: I don't think you read my e-mail. There are hundreds of restaurants that deliver in my area that use your site. I can see four of them from my house. There is something wrong with your website. I would like to use your service to order food. Your aggregator informs me that there are no restaurants in my area. This is not true. There are. I see a long list of restaurants within five miles of my house, but when I sign into my account, I receive an error message letting me know that there are no restaurants that deliver to my address. This is Not True. These restaurants, which have accounts with you, have been delivering to my house for seven years. I don't know why, suddenly, they would all decide to just stop delivering to my house. As far as I know, I've had no negative interactions with them.

CRS: We are sorry that the restaurant you like to order from is closed. Have you considered ordering from another restaurant.

Me: There appears to be some reading comprehension issue with "Mike" from Customer service. I've reattached the previous issue. Could multiple people please read this, and write back a possible solution to the problem I laid out, which is not that a restaurant near me has closed or that I don't live near any restaurants that use your service, it's that THERE'S SOMETHING WRONG WITH YOUR WEBSITE. (followed by text from previous e-mail)

CRS: While you may be able to order from these restaurants from your phone, unfortunately, they are outside of the usual service area, and you can not order them through our site.

Me: I CAN, THOUGH. I've been ordering through your site For Years. I have not moved. None of the restaurants have moved. I have signed in and ordered from these restaurants, via your website, since 2011. I ordered from Davis Square Pizza on March 4th, and they delivered. On March 11th, I tried to order through the same method, and started receiving an error message. The Store Has Not Moved. It Has Not Gone Out Of Business. I Have Not Moved. The town of Cambridge has not passed any pizza redistricting acts within the last two weeks that would result in me not being able to order from a restaurant I have been ordering from, via your website, for seven years. Please actually read the text of this e-mail, maybe process it for an hour, do some research, check with your tech people, and please reply with a solution to the problem I presented, as opposed to sending me a generic reply that does not, in any way, reflect the problem that I have reported to you.

CRS: Sorry for the confusion. Here is a $20 voucher, which you can use at any restaurant that delivers to you.

Me: Thanks. Unfortunately, it is difficult for me to use a $20 voucher when your website claims that there aren't any restaurants that deliver to me, which To Be Clear IS NOT TRUE. Something is wrong with the aggregator on your website. If you give me the e-mail to your tech person, I would gladly e-mail them directly about fixing this problem, since your customer service department is having a difficult time parsing the problem.

CRS: We're sorry that there aren't any restaurants in your area that can deliver to your address. We appreciate your loyalty, and hope you will continue to use our service when a restaurant opens up in your area.

Me: Dear Illiterate Fuckheads. I am not going to use your service anymore because Fuck You. You Illiterate Fuckheads. Please delete my account, don't e-mail me anymore, and don't try and solve this problem. You're too late. You Illiterate Fuckheads. Normally, I would never send an e-mail that contains the term "Illiterate Fuckheads" to anyone because it's rude, fairly classist, and customer service is a really tough job. I, too, work in customer service. But since you Illiterate Fuckheads aren't really reading these, and instead generating generic responses to specific problems, I have no problem saying Fuck You. Your customer service is abysmal. If your company chooses to fire you, you have no one to blame but your own incompetent self.

CRS: We are sorry that the restaurant you like to order from is closed. Have you considered ordering from another restaurant.

Me: That's what I thought.​

A guy walks into the store wearing a very puffy, very shiny, very silver coat. I feel guilty because all I can think is "You shouldn't wear that. It makes you look like a bake potato." But as he walks past me, I see there is a patch on his shoulder that says "Yes, I am a baked potato!"

Delivery Guy: I have a box for you!

Me: Great! Thanks.

Random Loiterer #1: Oooh. Goodies.

Me: I don't know if they're goodies. They might be terriblies.

RL #1: You don't know what you ordered?

Me: I didn't order them. I'm just the guy that was here when the box showed up.

RL #2: So there's some real intrigue going on here.

I cut open the box.

RL #1: What is it?

Me: Register tape. Easily the most boring solution to the mystery, as it's neither a goody or a terribly, just a necessity.

RL #2: It could be worse. The box could be empty.

Me: That would be way better. Then it would be a new mystery. Was there something inside it at one point? Is this an elaborate prank? A metaphor? Invisible bees trained to attack when you completely forget about the box?

RL #1: That's terrifying.

​Me: I KNOW! Thank god it was register tape and not nothing, right?

Dude: Didn't you tell me you broke up with someone because they were a police officer or something?

Me: No. I've never dated a police officer.

Dude: I thought you told me you kicked someone out of the house because they were a detective.

​Me: What? No, I--- Oh. DeFective. I kicked out my ex because he was deFective. If he had still been under warranty, I would have had a strong case to have all the money I'd spent on him refunded.

11:58, the delivery van arrives. I go out to carry in the boxes, and the radio is blasting "Every Breath You Take" loud enough that I can hear it the moment I step outside.

"Is that an anti-theft device?" I ask.

Delivery Guy: "Because police will protect anything playing The Police? Yea."

"I meant because nobody would ever want to be seen in a car blasting Every Breath You Take."


Delivery Guy: "Oh, ha. Ha."
**********************************
12:03, I walk into the print shop to pick up this week's sub sheets. "Message In A Bottle" is playing.

"Did Sting just die?" I ask.

​Print Shop Guy: "The wrestler?"

There is no bigger red flag in poetry than when you ask someone who their greatest influence is, and they reply with "Myself."

Everyone who has ever said that is awful.

Shithead In A Leather Jacket: I don't know why Doctor Who is now a woman?

Decent Human: After twelve guys, why not?

SIALJ: Why not? Why not? Why? It's Doctor Who.

DH: What's your point?

SIALJ: It's not Doctress Who.

DH: Doctress isn't a word. Doctor is gender neutral. It's a title not a ---

SIALJ: No one wants to watch Doctress Who.

DH: It's still not a word. But if it were, I would want to watch it.

SIALJ: Ok. Because you are a woman?

DH: Because I like Doctor Who.

SIALJ: It doesn't make sense.

DH to the other woman: Let's go.

SIALJ: Where are we going?

DH: We are going somewhere without you. Good night, Larry.

To me, SIALJ: Do you believe this? They are mad at me. Typical women.

Me: Women are typically mad at you?

SIALJ: They're too sensitive.

Me: Maybe they should see a doctress about it.

SIALJ: You know what I am talking about.

Me: Unfortunately.

​He didn't buy anything.

Last night, on my way home from work, there was a car with its hazards on that was circling the square (you know what I mean), looking for a parking spot. EVERYONE was honking at this person. They were congesting the streets, they weren't paying attention to crosswalks. They sucked. But when the car went around the corner, you couldn't see what the honking was about.

Random Person: "It's so horny out tonight."

Other Random Person: "What?"

RP: "Listen to all those horns."

ORP: "That's NOT what horny means."

​RP: "Yes it is. Horny. Full of horns."