Today is not my day. Part II.

Instead of getting ready for work this morning, I decided to begin writing that last blog post. I had planned on coming to campus early to eat a bagel for breakfast before work. But somehow, I got carried away and all of a sudden it was 8:51. I had to be in the library by 9. At least I was dressed and my teeth were brushed... But I was hungry and hadn't touched my face, hair, or deodorant. So I zoomed past the bell tower on my scooter as it blared out it's pretty little 9 am song (what is it now, Appalachian Spring?) and then ran up to the library with negative 3 minutes to spare. Now I'm sitting here all stinky with stringy tangled hair and no idea what my face looks like today.

At least the Collaboratory is usually empty for about an hour after we open. I decided to put up a sign and skip out to grab a bagel from next door anyway and just eat it discreetly behind my desk. Everything was fine as I was ordering the bagel. But then the cashier ignored me from behind her newspaper (even glancing at me to see what the hell I wanted, looking back at her newspaper, then motioning for the lady behind me to go to the other register) and when I cut in front of the woman behind me the other cashier was a horrible bitch too. My sesame bagel with honey walnut raisin cream cheese was the ridiculous price of $2.34, so I gave her two ones, a quarter, and a dime. I accidentally dropped the quarter behind the register while I was trying to hand her my change, moaned, and said, "Ahh, it's just not going to be my day." She didn't even crack a smile. Just found the quarter, put it in the drawer, slammed it shut and said "Have a good one." And that bitch kept my damn penny. If I wanted her to keep my penny, I would have said so. I had even considered it! But instead of saying anything, I took an extra napkin, just to be passive-aggressive. It's stupid and it didn't make me feel any better.

On a little side note, I hate to think about race relations, especially in the first person, but I can't help but think that I'm treated poorly by the employees of this particular place because of my race, gender, and age. They look at me and assume I'm one of the rich nobodies that goes to this snobby school and don't mind if they decide to keep what I'm sure they assume is my parents penny. But that's not the only thing. It's one of those vibes, those slow growing notions that after many bagels I am starting to pick up on. That really depresses me.