Monthly Archive for July, 2006

I don’t ever let success go to my head, in fact I always think I am basically just pulling it out of my *ss.  So why do I let failure go to my head?  Good question.  Not answered today.  Also:  other things that get me down: 1) improper use of colons.  2) People that do not vote here in the header contest. And they need to follow the rules.  Since I am low, so very low today, I will share with you something that has laid me so low.

This is a future conversation I will have with Baskin-Robbins customer service, and before you claim “tired, derivative, desperate web logging of mundane customer service beefs,” let this one come to its sad conclusion.  I know, Berube does not discuss his inability to order a goddamned toasted, I said toasted, BMT at the local Subway #27. Do the Cheddators go for easy laffs RE: Wendy’s drive thru human finger/Frosty™ (ONLY COMES IN CHOCOLATE, DOUCHEGEISERS, WHERE DID THEY GROW YOU?  A CORN FIELD?)?  Certainly not.

None of that is relevant to this obscure and laying low experience.  I really just wanted a McDonald’s Soft-Servo coneroni. 1 dollar, effective in its cooling qualities, especially in the counteraction of the “no AC at work week” week that is this current week.  However, we demurred in our ice cream choice to the lies, damned lies that is the “31” flavors.  This loco is more like 18.  No matter.  We decided to go with Cookies and Cream on a sugar cone.  To be honest, this choice was motivated by not wanting the Jamocha Almond Fudge, as OJ Simpson ordered such on his way back from one of the trials (seriously, true story, we called all the LA Baskins to see what cool treat the Juice picked up on the night of the verdict, can’t remember if it was the Murder rap or the civil case, it just seemed so ridiculous with the press choppers following the car- “they appear to be stopping, they are pulling into, into a…Baskin-Robbins).

“Dear Baskin-Robbins 1-800 number responder, please tell us if the actions described here represent your company policy at the 2399 other Baskin Robbins in existence, or merely the unfortunate one graced by Three Bulls! [will be redacted for privacy reasons] staff. Allow us to explain our situation.

As has been our wont since the dawning of our time on this earth, we asked for chocolate sprinkles on our cone.  The BR ice cream tech, looked at us quizically, asking us if we “wanted it in a cup.”

“No, on a cone please.”

“We can’t put sprinkles on a cone.”

“Sure you can, just throw it on in there and roll it around.  It’ll be all good.”

“No, see the ice cream is wet.” [points to sprinkles, somehow conveying the impossibilty of my seemingly imp(r)udent request]
“They do it at every other ice cream place in America.”

“We don’t do it here.”

Was I in the wrong, did I make all this up?  Have I hallucinated the several hundred times I’ve gotten the forbidden sprinkles on my ice cream cone? Perhaps he was worried about the ice cream getting on the sprinkles?  Does he not know that the aforementioned “wet” or perhaps tacky/sticky nature of the ice cream will allow sprinkles to stick to the ice cream glob, sucking up sprinkles until no more can stick, effectively creating a barrier between the despoiled ones and the virginal ones remaining in the sprinkle dish?
He then proceeded to add insult to injury by taking a spoon and shaking about a dozen sprinkles onto the top my forlorn cone.

I was so laid low.  To add insult to insult the bottom of the cone fell off when I took the paper off and the cookies were supplemented by a new form of crunchiness known in physcis circles as chunks of ice.  Lower than low.

I felt veritably surrounded by what Bobby Lightfoot would refer to as Audi drivers.

Goddamn low.