Piece of cake

How can two people in the same bakery line up be in such different places? I was in the exchange district listening to some easy jazz, very much enjoying my albeit short cubicle reprieve. The woman beside me, on the other hand, was on the edge.

I knew it as soon as she started going on about craving something sweet with not too many calories. "Please share a cookie with me," she whinged to the wet rag of a man who could only be her longsuffering son with mum's overstuffed handbag in tow (which she no doubt cannot cart herself due to chronic pain). "Don't really feel like a cookie," him. "But I only want half, why won't you share it with me?... Waaa... Waaa..." (0kay, maybe I'm adding the waas, but the rest is verbatim.)

"Now I don't know what to order, you go ahead." He orders his lunch, and the bakery lady turns back to working the rush. "Well, I really wanted a cookie, but I guess I'll have... some, uh... toast. Excuse me... can I get some..." She complains to me about the service and I'm politely conversation noncomittal. "Uh, just some toa... excuse..." "Now I can't even order... I'm gonna end up with nothing." "Oh, hi. Can I just get a piece of toast?" "No butter."

My lunch is ready. I give the bakery lady a big smile, thanks and have a nice day with the payment. Just as I'm heading out the door, Edge-na's toast arrives. "Oh... it's buttered... nevermind, I'll just take it." And she slumps to her defeated table in the defeated corner.

It doesn't have to be that hard! Just buy the darn cookie, Edge-na. And, if you're not kidding yourself about the calories, share half of it with someone on the street. The world would be a much better place.