Don’t make me talk to her anymore

We have a habit of picking up dinner from Ledo’s Pizza most Wednesday nights.  It’s right around the corner from the gym (same shopping center), and I always go to my zumba class from 6 to 7, so John calls ahead and I pick up dinner on my way home.  Simple for everyone.  Sure, pizza isn’t the greatest thing to eat when I’m trying to be all healthy and stuff, but I get a little one, I swear.  🙂

Lately, though, I’ve been dreading going in there.  There’s this girl, in her early 20s I think, who’s ALWAYS working Wednesday nights, and she is ANNOYING.  She wants to chat, and I’m sweaty and tired and hungry and I just want to pay for my food and take it home.  Stop talking to me!  But of course I’m pleasant and I chat back and I think “Oh god, just take my credit card already.  Why are you taking so long?  Please let me go home.”  And then I practically run out the door.  Nicely.

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