Official. Worst. Day. Ever.

Rob and I spent over an hour at IKEA trying to get a refund for something I bought back in August. This was attempt number four. It’s a lot of paperwork (and a fuck-ton of incompetent sales people trying to help me), and in the end, I left empty handed, again. Grrr.

Then I went to the Apple store tonight because my iPhone had given up the ghost. You’re supposed to make an appointment online in advance, which I did, and then when you get there, you check in. That part I didn’t know (nor, may I huffily point out, was there any sign indicating such need to check in). My name was on the list of people waiting to be helped, so I was like, “Cool! I’m three people away!” and then suddenly it vanished. I squealed and ran to the nearest employee all “ZOMG! My name! It’s gone! I’m still here! iPhone! Broken! Need help!”

He told me in an icy tone [sidenote: no one says "icy tone" anymore, and it really is a great phrase, cliche or not] that the appointment had been canceled by the system because I hadn’t checked in, and I was on “standby”. Add to that the fact that they were short-staffed and the line was going slow anyway, plus the fact that there were a ton of people waiting at that moment, and it was going to be about (I’m guessing) a three hour wait for me.

Oh hell no.

“I want back into the line!” I said, my voice cracking. “I’ve been waiting and waiting!” (I had wasted dinero on a taxi, too, so I would make it on time!)

“There’s nothing I can do. You’re on standby.”

“How long is that going to take?” I asked.

“I don’t know. I would hate to give you a time and have it be longer.”

“Can you give me an ‘-ish’?”

“No.”

“Then put me next.”

“I can’t.”

I’m a pretty mellow person; I don’t snap easily, but it had been a long day, and we’re kind of stressed at my house anyway these days, so I don’t have the patience I usually do. I wanted to wrap my hands around his stupid, needle-thin hipster neck and coke him. I took a deep breath. I made my “Don’t fuck with me” face.

“I. Want. To. Be. Next. I watched you tell those HOT GIRLS over there that they needed to check in. I watched [famous television star who waltzed in with his dog] get helped right away. I want to go next!”

He made me next, and my iPhone is better (well, it’s brand new. they replaced it.)

Hot girls and TV stars have nothing on me and my “Don’t fuck with me face”.

Today in Park Slope (a charming Brooklyn neighborhood that looks like Sesame Street) two equally scruffy hipster dog walkers met in the middle of an autumn-leaf-and-rain speckled sidewalk. Each of them was walking a sizeable motely crew, and the two groups collided, intertwined, and tangled their leashes all together as everyone sniffed everyone else. The scruffy hipster guy and the scruffy hipster girl tangled together, too, and began laughing as they tried to sort themselves out again. It was exactly like a scene in a mid-90′s romantic comedy.

I hope they fall in love.