The Bagelry

I’m not sure if there is a skill set involved in preparing a delicious noontime edible at my local bagel spot; But, if there is one… I’m quite certain that there wasn’t much fact checking on the current situation occurring behind the counter. In today’s society, guesstimates can somehow be twisted into facts, so today… I’m stuck watching this hoagie travesty. No spitting on my grinder!  Now, I bet you’re wondering… Rita, if this is your favorite donut alternative delight, (absolute favorite) why are you knocking the preparers of your delish tidbits? Hmmm… I don’t know. Its fun. And you need something to read when you visit me. Wahoo! Because, these are the thoughts that scurry through my brain while I wait for my little nibbles to be served. Because, I’m too lazy to make my own bagels, and slice them… and add smear to them, or lox… and the toasting. Who wants to watch me fuss over a bagel? No one. It’s exhausting. Although, the rate at which I can learn ANY coffee machine, is astounding. The extent to which I analyze freaking everything, trust me, bearing witness to my poor boy competence would be agony. Or hysterical. Either way, a sandwich artist… I am not. I’m plum tuckered out – just at the thought. Espresso anyone?

Stop asking questions. Pay attention. So, after waiting for about an hour -exaggeration- for a sweet old woman to order… oh, I don’t know, fifteen hundred bagels. Which she did, by the way, one lonely bagel at a time. Very…. slow…ly…. I couldn’t help but notice -my fellow service industry friends -struggling to just function within their realm. There was the girl staring at the register with befuddlement. The young guy carefully putting together a gourmet sandwich option. Reading his bagel syllabus, as to not make a mistake. Uh, smear goes inside the doughy goodness love. Inside. The older woman in the back was rummaging through their ovens, hastily looking for a pumpernickel option. Pumpernickel? After taking notice to all the intriguing action, I saw old lady bones getting her walker together and putting a small to-go order in her satchel. Hold on. All this time and she only bought one freaking bagel?! You’ve got to be kidding me. Am I on candid camera? Listen, I’m not one to disrespect my elders, but don’t look at me if she accidentally trips into the street. It wasn’t me. And the walking stick? Flying into the sky? *whistling and looking around…. Uhhh… Check that driver’s bumper.

Bottom line, folks. At my bagelry of choosing, yeah… they may be a bit slow. Or dim-witted. Possibly both. And maybe… its just trickling down from management. Highly likely. Isn’t management always a bit, on the “special” side, anyway? I just can’t stop going there. I’m hooked. They got me in for the bagels and I stay for the entertainment provided by the staff. Maybe the manager, or CEO, needs to institute a class of bagel-learning. Now class, these ones have holes in the middle. And these ones have walnuts in them. And… this… this my trainees… This is the Art. Of the Bagel Effenciency Quotient.

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