Goon

"Goon": slang for cheap wine that usually comes in a box (the wine itself is held in a plastic sack). There's a spigot from the box that you just turn and it drains the wine out.\

Ex: "There's free goon at the party tonight."

My first zoology midterm was epic fail. There was only about 10-15 questions and I know I got three wrong for sure, so the odds aren't in my favor. Now I gotta do well on my lab reports and final for sure. -_-

I got super angry at work for the first time today. Remember how I said I don't mind customer service because I could tolerate the shit from clients? Well, today one of them hit a nerve. It was probably due to a build-up of things. One of the waitresses got too greedy and took too many sections, so her customers were being neglected. Meanwhile, I was assigned to clearing tables (boo, no tips!) so I was a bit resentful of missing out. One of customers waved me over and I decided to comply, even though I didn't have to.
"Could you give me the wine list?" asked the middle-aged man. He had his wife and a sullen-looking son with him.
I politely told him that we didn't have a wine list, but I had the names written down on a piece of paper. "If you give me a minute, I'll fish it out right now," I said.
The man was not happy. "What? No wine list? I'm sure the last time I came here, the waitress gave me a list," he grumbled.
"No, I'm afraid we've never had a wine list," I said, taking out my own tattered piece of paper. "Now, we have the Merlot, the Cab Sav, and our House Red."
"What are they?" said the man shortly.
"What ....are they?" I repeated, confused.
"That's what I said." He was getting very rude.
"They're Gossips, and they're red wine," I said, not sure if that was the answer he was looking for.
"Well, where are they from?" he said impatiently.
"Where are they from....?" I asked. I wasn't sure if this guy was trying to be difficult on purpose or if I was just ignorant of wines. Either way, I could sense the negativity beginning to emanate from him.
"Yes, where are they from. Are they from Northern Australia, Southern Australia, Eastern Australia, Western Australia?"
"Um...."
"The U.S.? Asia, Europe, Africa?"
At that point, I know the man was just being despicable. While he was going on about countries, I tried to keep my face in an emotionless, bland expression. It wasn't hard because I would never openly snap at someone (I'm anti-confrontation, remember?) but that didn't mean I wasn't feeling offended and P.O'ed. While I kept my eyes on the floor, I noticed that the wife had placed a warning hand on her husband's arm. I waited for his angry listing to finish, and then calmly said, "I'm not sure, but I'll check for you?"
"You do that," said the man.
As I walked away, I heard the wife exclaim, "Does it even matter?!"
"Yes it does!" retorted her husband. He started going on about the taste.
Stupid, stupid man. I checked all the bottles and discovered that the Merlot and Cab Sav was from Eastern Oz. Our cheap House Red was essentially goon. After I went back and told him all our wines came from Eastern Oz, and he ordered a glass of Merlot. I resisted the urge to swap it with goon and decided losing my job wasn't worth the satisfaction of justice. I think I will sabotage his dinner on my last week though (like snort into his fish or something) if he's there. His balding head is imprinted into my memory. Watch out, Mr. Wine-Connoisseur-Wannabe, I'm going to get you back.

This experience has made me realize that it takes me awhile to recover from stressful events. In those personality quizzes, there's always a question that asks, "Is it difficult for you to get over negative experiences?" I had always ticked "no" or "not very." Now I realize that I've been misjudging my own tolerance. It takes me a long time to forget emotionally stressful situations. Sometimes I will relive them and wonder if the person who had hurt me even remembers doing it (I seriously doubt it, actually). It's a depressing, self-destructive habit that I should cease immediately, but for some reason, can't.

On the upside, I went to the Farmer's Market today and bought a whole bunch of fruit. Now I have enough apples, bananas, grapes and avocados to last me for the rest of the week. Things are always so much cheaper on Saturdays, I really should wait to do my grocery shopping then. Unfortunately, I discovered that my bananas are a little riper than I previously thought. Maybe I will attempt to make banana bread tomorrow, despite the lack of measuring utensils. Hopefully it'll turn out well. It'll have to wait until after work though, since I'm on the lunch shift tomorrow for the first time. At least I won't have to stay until 11 p.m. The rush shouldn't be as bad as dinner time, but then there is a table of 19 coming in for a Sweet Sixteen. Yikes.