Whore's Head

1.2.2017

I know of only a couple decent delicatessens in striking distance of my place in LA.  One is superior to the other, but both have giant pastrami sandwiches that are quite good.

"Delis," on the other hand, abound.  Every grocery store in town now has one.  ("Now" because The Whole Foods Effect has shamed dumpy stores into spiffing themselves up - changing the lighting, removing the age-old linoleum, setting up artisan cheese counters, triple-milled French soap displays and, you guessed it, delis) - in order to lure back customers.

First of all, I don't buy pastrami from these supermarket delis.  I don't eat a lot of pastrami, but when I do, I don't settle for supermarket deli pastrami.  There.  But I do prefer to get freshly-sliced smoked ham, chicken breast and sometimes cheese from these delis.  They'll cut the slices to order (thin for chicken and extra-thin for ham (think about piling extra-thin ham slices on a sandwich.  Not flat = yum).  I do extra-thin for cheddar, too, when I'm planning on making grilled cheese sandwiches.  It melts better.

So just before Christmas 2016, I was planning to make "two-bite egg things," a.k.a., miniature quiches, for both my family and for the Holiday potluck lunch at work.  I make ham and cheddar mini quiches, and to make them, I require a small dice on the ham.  I need a bit smaller than 1/4 inch on the slices so two more cuts at home will get me the dice I want.  So I went to the supermarket deli and got in line to get my ham.

I was first in line, but waited for the customer in front of me to be helped.  The customer was a fucking rude-ass jerk.  "Give me two stuffed peppers," she demanded.  She was wrinkled, skinny, white-haired, and she had a sweater-vest with a woven depiction of a snowy woodland scene over a satin shirt with frilled cuffs, neat pleated slacks and jewelry.  Lots of jewelry.

"And when was that potato salad made?" she asked but didn't wait for an answer:  "Give me a small of that."

"And I want some chicken, no, not that chicken, that chicken," she said as she pointed a crooked finger at two identical roasted chicken breasts.

The deli attendant smiled and did as she was ordered.  Finally, without a single please or thank you, the old crone got what she wanted and left.  I stepped up as the attendant asked, "may I help you?"

I said, "First off, that old bag owes you at least four "pleases" and a handful of "thank-yous."  I noticed she didn't offer a single one."  The old bag was only steps away at that time and I hope she heard me.  The attendant said, "Oh, that's okay.  Most everyone is pretty rude.  You get used to it."

I told her it was unacceptable and she agreed, but said she's got better things to do than worry about rude people, because they would never change, so why bother?  I thought on that and figure she interacted with the public much more than I did, so I gave her the point.

Then I said please and thank you and walked away with a properly sliced-to-order pound of smoked ham.

I still think the old bag needs to go to finishing school for a tune-up.


Tonight - Iron & Gold (by request)  
**Where' you'll fine extremely nice TNSC people**

bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!