You know that bitch. The one that is never satisfied with anything. That bitch that treats people in the service industry as mere servants. That condescending and snobby bitch that I cannot stand to encounter when I am out and about.
So how did I become that bitch?
I have no excuse. I owe an amends, which will be delivered when I return to the place where I acted such a donkey (as long as they didn't fuck up my pants).
It is all about dry-cleaning.
I haven't used a dry-cleaner in the town where I live/work in over 5 (five) years. Hell, I personally haven't used a dry cleaner at all in 5 years, thanks to how awful the major dry-cleaning outfit in this town is.
I couldn't avoid it, though. It was a winter-white wool Malandrino trouser with a chocolate stain that I was deathly afraid to tackle myself.
I certainly wasn't going to take it to the major outfit here in town. I got sick and tired of taking my Armani pants to them and getting those four-figure pants back shiny and double-creased, hanging over a cardboard tube after I specifically requested that they be returned to me, hung by the waist, on the clamp-style pants hangers they were hanging from when I dropped them off. Fuckers didn't even have the decency to return my fucking pants hanger they didn't use. I am not paying that kind of money for somebody to double-crease my trousers and make them shiny when I am perfectly capable of doing that myself. (I also am perfectly capable of hand-washing said trousers and then ironing them with one crease and not making them shiny.)
So when I went to the other reputable cleaner in town, I told them I had quit using dry cleaners in this town because I got sick of double-creased, shiny four-figure trousers hanging from cardboard tubes wrapped around wire hangers.
I'm pretty sure I need to be slapped for that shit.
In my defense, it's not like I can afford to just go buy more four-figure trousers because the dry-cleaner fucked them up. I spend a lot of time scouring consignment shops, goodwill, and yoox for nice clothes at prices I can afford, and I don't want some stupid-ass dry-cleaner fucking up my nice clothes.
That said, when I go get my pants, I don't give a shit whether they got the stain out or not. As long as they return my pants hung by the waist on the hanger I left with them, I owe those people an apology for my shitty behaviour.