If You Don’t Know Where You Are Going…

It all starts with a rebate check we thought we had received from our friends at Costco.  We couldn’t find the coupon so I tried to find it on the website but I failed to crack the code.  

It was getting late.  We planned it that way…arrive close to the end of business…it might be less busy.  So off we went, coupon-less but full of hope.

Nota bene:  if you go late on the shortest day of the year you don’t have to look for a shady parking place so that Beau won’t overheat.  And there were less people there so we were all over it.

Grabbing a basket we headed in.  The plan was to go to the customer assistant who was located on the way out.  So, I squeezed between displays and went to the assistance desk.  A young man said we didn’t have a rebate coming.    What?  How can that be a thing?  He did not budge.  No rebate money to spend.

What we were shopping for was booze.  So we went to the booze, made three selections, cruised by the nuts looking for pecans which were not there, a search of the refrigeration units for pasteurized canned crab.  Nada on that too.  

We arrived at check out and they had trouble with our credit card.  That necessitated a visit from a manager to the register.  Since the manager was summoned for help, she multi-tasked and and brought a fistful of dollars which they dutifully counted and recounted and filled out forms.  This was all good news because I was on the phone trying to order dinner from Taste, a restaurant in San Luis… the plan being we would pick it up curbside on our way home.  It took me all that time at the check out to figure out their website so I could get food ordered.  

Walking across the parking lot, I was purchasing our dinner.  Isn’t that just amazing?  Arriving at the car, I received a text signalling that I needed to reorder.  WTF?  And did I mention that I was driving?  So, Rayman was riding shotgun and he was of no help.   Doing things on a phone is not his forte.  So, I called them.  They would take my order by phone.  Remembering our order was an ordeal.  The place specialized in sliders and they have about 2000 sliders to choose from.  I had ordered four distinct sliders but which ones?   I had also ordered Brussel sprouts but at Taste, they have 6 different treatments for Brussels.  Good grief.  I had no earthly idea if what I reordered was what I had  originally ordered as I stood at the cash register at Costco

As mentioned previously, I was driving.  So, I asked Rayman if I should take South street.  He said, “No you do not want to go south.  It’s north.”  At this point, I am at the intersection of Higuera and South so I turned on South going north.  

“Why did you take South?”, he exclaimed.  “Because I am going this way.”  

Letting that go, we arrive at South and Broad.  “Which way do I turn?” I ask as I can’t remember which way to turn.  It is dark.  I’m hungry.

“Go left.” He replies like he knows what he is talking about.  So I turn left and realize by landmark sightings that this is the wrong way.  

“We’re not going the right way.  I should have turned right.”  At this point Rayman says, “Isn’t Taste on Higuera?”  Alarm bells go off and I bring the car to a screeching halt in a bad place, meaning a place where parking is not allowed while incredulously exclaiming, “You don’t know where we are going!!!  We are going to Taste.”  He says, “Isn’t it on Higuera, the place we ate at when we took the car to the Toyota when they were trying to fix our audio system on the Prius?”  “NO.  We are not going to that restaurant.  That restaurant doesn’t do sliders.  Didn’t you hear sliders?” 

I wasn’t too incredulous about it because I don’t think Rayman has eaten at Taste that many times to remember so I just laughed at the whole situation.  And then I got incredulous.  

“I order the food, I drive the car, I plan the trip (giving myself a certain amount of credit) and you just sit there.   So please go pick up the food and pay for it.  I’m going to sit here and read my phone….please.”  

On the way home, Rayman says, “You know when you went to talk to customer service, while I was waiting for you with the cart…I saw something across the aisle and so I went to look at it.  30 seconds max.  Turned around and my cart was gone.  Someone stole my cart.  So I went out and got another cart and when I went to enter, the greeter asked to see my card which you had over at the customer service desk.  I explained the situation and she took pity on me and let me through.”

And so I wonder, dear reader, is your life like that?  Or are we just old and strange all by ourselves?  

As Yogi Berra said, “If you don’t know where you’re going, you’ll wind up somewhere else.”


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