It’s probably not directly related to the fact that the french fries were so salty it rendered them inedible, or that after rifling through a ridiculous amount of wasted napkins there was no straw…
or that after pulling into the gas station and up to the pump, and getting out of the car do I discover the credit card thingie taped up with no sign or any other direction. Every other visible pump had the same tacky cover up…
or this interminable and oppressive heat…
or the general state of affairs of poor customer service.
Or even interacting with cranky pants everywhere, no doubt also affected by all of the above.
No. It’s obviously me.
I clearly don’t smile enough.
