One of my favorite pastimes has always been sticking it to the man. There’s just something about it that seems to invigorate and lift my sprits like nothing else can, well except for cocaine. That however is neither here nor there.
My obsession with sticking it to the man has been evident ever since I was a young child. I remember being fascinated in my youth by the book The Anarchist Cookbook. Of course I never did any of the stuff that’s in the book, but just knowing about it was enough at that point. As I got older, that ended up not being enough.
My man sticking desires still exist today, but they’ve become much tamer. Take yesterday for example. On Monday’s at all the Duffy’s Sports Grills around town they have a promotion where if you have an MVP card all the entrees are $9.99. Now this is a hell of a bargain. Unfortunately for me, my favorite thing to get there is the Chicken Tenderloin Platter which checks in at $10.99 normally. Getting that on Monday it seems like a waste because you’re only saving a buck when you could get something like the full rack of Baby Back Ribs and save 6 or 7 dollars. So even though I want the chicken tenders and know that will make me happiest, I still don’t want to order it because then I feel like I’m getting screwed.
Isn’t the whole point of going out to eat so that you can get what you want? If there were no prices on the menu than I would order the chicken tenders no problem. Mainly because I think Park Ave’s ribs kill Duffy’s any day. There’s something though about Monday nights that makes me want to order the most expensive thing so that in my mind I’m sticking it to them the most. Who knows, their profit margin might even be bigger on the ribs anyway, I have no clue.
I did end up getting the chicken tenders, but I got them saucy and with blue cheese. Which normally costs an extra 99 cents, but I got it for free because I’m the man.
Another example happened this very morning. For those not in the loop today was free pastry day at Starbucks. If you were friends of theirs on Facebook or get their e-mails then you got a link to a coupon that you could either print out or bring up on your cell and show them today for a free pastry with your drink before 10:30am. I of course took this as an opportunity to get those bastards twice for it.
Sticking it to Starbucks for some reason is extra sweet, I guess it’s because they get me for a ridiculous amount of money every month. I wouldn’t even want to add it up, its scary, and I’ve even cut back a whole lot. Today, I got a small piece of my revenge on those Seattle smart asses. I went at 8:30 this morning to the one on Northlake while on my way to my probation meeting (that’s a story for another day, stay tuned). I got a free sweat bread with my normal solo venti no whip white mocha frappuccino (yes, I know it’s not the manliest of drinks, but fuck it). Afterwards I stopped at home on the way to work.
While at home I was relaxing for a few moments when I looked at the watch and realized that if I left right that instance I could stop and hit them again before work. I zipped on over to PGA and got another frap and a cinnamon roll. I walked out of there with a big smile on my face thinking of all the money that I had saved this morning. The ridiculousness only hits me when looking back at it. I still spent twice the money that I normally used to (I don’t even go every day anymore). I now realize that not only did I not really stick it to Starbucks, in fact I fell right into their trap.
My last instance is going back a little ways. It happened around when I went to rehab for the 2nd time out in Baton Rouge, LA. I completed treatment there and decided to come back to Florida and move into a sober living facility. I got out of the rehab and they dropped me off at the airport.
I was dying to get a drink, but the bastards of course had left me with absolutely no money. I couldn’t even have gotten a soda at a vending machine if I wanted. So I’m miserable and board my plane. I had an aisle seat of course because I love to put my legs out. On my way back to my seat I noticed that the stewardess was standing by my seat. When I got there she informed me that my choices were either to sit in my assigned aisle seat next to two children, or switch to the middle seat that their mother had so she could sit with her two kids. Now I know I’m a nice guy so this was really no choice for me, of course I’m gonna let her switch seats with me. I hate middle seats, but I can deal with it.
There I am sitting in my middle seat just minding my own business when 5 minutes later the stewardess comes back and tells me that she’s sorry but I’m going to have to move again. I find it odd, but I just kinda sigh and say whatever. She starts walking and I follow her. She keeps going and I realize that she’s moving me up to first class. Money I think, for once in my life being a nice guy has finally paid off. Its my reward for all those times I was the nice guy like a complete jackass and the dumb blonde I was hitting on ended up fuckin the asshole.
After I sit down in my still uncomfortable yet plush by comparison chair, I have a revelation. This was all God’s plan. Here I was lamenting the fact that I couldn’t get a drink and what did the big fella do but plant me in the one place where drinks are free. I immediately call the attendant over and get a rum and coke. I had just left rehab and was going straight from the airport to a sober living facility, but what did I care, it was all part of god’s plan. I managed to down 4 rum and cokes on the short flight from New Orleans to Atlanta where I was switching planes. Those drinks were the best tasting drinks I think I’d ever had. Not only had I not had a drink in a long time, but they were also free. It was also a double sticking it to the man, because not only were they free due to being in first class, but I had not paid for the first class upgrade either.
Upon landing in Atlanta I was presented with a dilemma. Here I was a raging alcoholic who hadn’t had a drink in 2 months before that plane ride, and I was stuck with no money in the airport. Once again I was pissed. Then I got on the plane down to West Palm and I was back in coach like a schmuck. No one there was any the wiser to what I had done, but that is really neither here nor there.
Now I don’t really know exactly where this strange fascination within me has come from. I know its not that I’m a cheapskate or anything, because I waste money left and right. I grew up in Palm Beach for Christ sake. There’s just something so sweet about getting something for free or less than what the other losers have to pay for it. I think that’s really just part of being American, kinda like blowing shit up.