What would Olive Garden do?

Woke up this morning to the dual panic of my sister realizing that A) her flight to London today apparently was never really booked and B) one of our dogs ate a big bottle of pain pills. After some fun last-second ticket shopping and vomit-inducing, everything seems to be OK.

However, it's still up in the air which dog actually at the pills, which were Rimadyl chewables for my sister's oldest dog's back pain. Because high doses can be toxic for the liver and gastro system, both Loki (the oldest dog) and Jonas (my mutt) have to take Zantac pills for two weeks. Odds are good that Jonas was the one who ate them, since he's the biggest shithead, but we have to be safe. Only one dog, the puppy Picasso, was ruled out because we induced vomiting and found only his breakfast. Sorry, buddy. The other two dogs apparently have a strong stomach for hydrogen peroxide.

Anyway, moving on...

I previously mentioned that I was the second oldest worker at the cafe, after a fella named Rick. I've worked with him a few times and went out for drinks with him last night after closing, and sure enough, he's a pretty interesting guy.

Rick's primary job is in hiring at UAB, which is cool, since that's where both Karen and I are considering working. But he works at Barnes and Noble as a side job, and he loves it. He seems to share my love of getting to meet so many different people in a day, even if the interaction is limited (which can, of course, be a blessing).

I've decided to start keeping track of the random comments I hear sometimes when I go out to clean the lobby. You pick up unpredictable little tidbits of life, like groups of religious teens talking about peer pressure, or the awkward attempts at conversation on a first date. As I get some good ones, I'll post them on the blog.

The only other interesting day-to-day thing to track is the strange requests people make. I'm used to the "half-caf skinny caramel machiato no whip affogato style" kind of stuff, but then there are the things that just confuse me.

I stopped in today just to buy a cup of coffee (hard to beat the 50% employee discount), and a woman was lecturing one of our best baristas about how she wanted him to steam the milk and espresso together. (Normally, you drop the milk on top of the espresso.) Now, this isn't incredibly rare or strange, but her logic sure was. It consisted of two points:

1. "When you don't steam them together, you burn the milk."
2. "That's how Olive Garden does it for me."

Just when you're trying to get your head around the burning milk aspect, your brain comes to a screeching halt. "Did she just say Olive Garden?"

In case you care or can't figure this out yourself, putting espresso in cold milk and steaming it will not magically change the scalding point of milk (which is about 180F). But apparently at the Olive Garden, the espresso acts as some kind of safety valve, and when the milk starts to get too hot...I don't know, maybe the whole thing changes color or starts to smell like pistachios.

Yeah, I can take all manner of rudeness and ignorance, but amazingly flawed logic (coupled with a that's-not-how-they-do-it-at-Olive-Garden attitude) is just the best.

Olive Garden. Christ.