Deck and Amy and the Order

“I’ll order, you find a table.” Deck said, sounding more confident than he felt in this situation.  Amy gave an questioning look, knowing he was far from confident in the task at hand.

“You sure?” She asked.

“Yeah, I’ve got this. Burgers, drinks, fresh fries. What’s so hard?” Deck countered.

“They’re called French Fries,” Amy pointed out.

“That’s what I said,” Deck said, waving her to the seating area.  “I’ll be there in a jiffy.”

“Jiffy?” Amy teased the word choice.

Deck stood in line and watched order after order be taken.  The smell of deliciousness filled the hole-in-wall restaurant.  A morning of errand running had resulted an appetite that would either lead to “hangry” conversation with Amy or him collapsing on the cold sidewalk.  He hoped the others in line would excuse his drooling, but surmised they were likely unaware of his situation.  He was good with that.

Finally, his turn at the counter arrived.

“Hi, what can I get for you today?” The peppy cashier asked.

“I would like a Number Taco,” Deck said.  Six words in and he had ruined everything.  He shook his head.  “I am so sorry.  One Lumber Ton,” he again flubbed the line.  “I am so, so sorry.  I was in way over my head in this one.  I’m going to send my wife in to finish up the inning.  Calling in the lefty!” Deck joked.

He ran from the counter and found Amy.  “I have made a terrible mistake and we need to go somewhere else before we are allowed nowhere else, okay?”

Amy, having been in this situation before, gathered her coat and purse and calmly exited the restaurant.  Deck was already placing a web-order at a chain store down the street.

 

 

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Deck and Amy and Tech Support

“Crap. I have no idea what the access information is.” Deck said.  He hung his head low and smashed some keys on the keyboard.

“Well, we kinda’ need to figure that out.  Can you do a password reset?” Amy asked.  She twirled a pen in her hand readying to jot down information for a trip they needed to book very, very soon.

“Tried it.  It went to an email address that hasn’t existed since before we met,” Deck said, turning to face her.

“I thought our lives didn’t start until we met?” Amy teased.

“I hate to break it to you, but there were email addresses before I knew you,” Deck said.

“Can you email them for assistance?” Amy asked.

Deck began scrolling the support page.  His face turned from sad annoyance to horrified in the blink of an eye.

“They say we have to call if password reset doesn’t work.” Deck did not know such a thing could exist in the modern world.

“Cancel the account. There are other suppliers.  Write a really mean tweet too.  This cannot stand.” Amy slammed her pen on the desk before her, pulled out her phone and opened an Expedia account.  “Calling for help.  That’s insane.”

 

 

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Deck and Amy and the Charity Event

Charity events involving caterers walking around with trays of fancy cheeses and grilled vegetables on weird looking crackers were well outside Deck and Amy’s comfort zones.  An obligation to a friend from college, a need for a tax write off, and the promise of free drinks changed backed them into a corner; their attendance was mandatory.

One and a half hours into the evening’s golf and drinks event, Deck and Amy failed to notice the small crowd gathering around them.  They were far too busy to notice anything so trivial as on-lookers, lookie-loos, and rubber neckers.

“What do you mean there’s no fancy lights or smoking volcano when you finally sink the final putt?” Deck asked, flippant and over-dramatic.  From his cell phone, volume maxed, sounds of fireworks and celebratory trumpet fanfare rang out.

“What sort of a golf course is this?” Amy added.  Continue reading