Don't Cry Over Spoiled Milk

I know it's been a while since I've written a blog, but this funny story prompted me to document the funny/ random things that are happening to me recently that I might soon forget. So consider this for my memory's sake and your entertainment's. So, I was at Dunkin Donuts tonight with Avi and Bentzy (I dunno if I should use their real names but who cares) and I buy a "feast" of sorts (by Dunkin Donuts standards). This mini-meal consisted of an egg-and-cheese on an onion bagel, a strawberry-frosted donut, and... a vanilla-chocolate combo milkshake. That part's important. So I eat my delicious egg-and-cheese, as well as my bagel. Now's the time I'm glad I got a drink. I start taking a large sip from my milkshake, eagerly anticipating the deliciousness of the drink. As I finish my first sip, I say to my two friends, this milkshake tastes funny. (Avi had also noted how funny his chocolate milk had tasted; a eerie coincidence. But he managed to finish his drink, not willing to admit that something was amiss.) Anyway, after one more sip that tasted more than off, I asked Bentzy to taste some just so I didn't think I was crazy. After he drinks from his straw, he almost does a spit-take as the taste hits his lips. "Oh G-d, that's awful," he quickly remarks. That being enough for me, I patiently wait back in line until I can talk to the lone Dunkin worker, who tonight was the Supreme Court of the place, having full power to honestly do what he wanted. Once it's my turn, I tell the guy, "I don't know how to really say this (so shocked by it all), but this milkshake is spoiled." His response, still even now, a good 90 minutes after the story, confounds me: "Well that's what happens when you mix two flavors together." He then asks me to move aside to help the next customer. Not wanting to make a scene yet, I decide to oblige, and wait for the last customer to leave. Now all that's left is me and him. It was the most intense showdown I'd been involved with in quite a while. It seemed clear that neither of us were backing down. After the last person leaves, I asked for him to try it. Naturally, he refused. I then said that it doesn't taste normal. Again he refers back to his ridiculous answer of mixing two flavors. He then suggests to add more ice cream. This man clearly did not understand the whole idea of pasteurization, I tell you that. So as he proceeds to add more ice cream, I tell him that it is just wasting more ice cream. He doesn't care. He adds more ice cream. He then asks me to try it again. To appease him, I took the bullet, and tried a little more. Unsatisfied as I knew I would be, I immediately pushed it back in his direction. I said, "Can I please get my money back?" I might as well have asked him to give me one of his limbs. He ignored me and walked away, making himself some coffee. He then serves someone at the drive-thru. As they pulled up to the window, I told them not to order a milkshake. After he's sufficiently done ignoring me, I ask him to speak to the manager. He tells me that the manager wasn't coming in until tomorrow morning. At this, I was ready to stay there all night if I had to. No way was I going to let this guy win. So after a few minutes of him still refusing to grant my refund, someone I know pulls into the parking lot. I said, "I'll be right back and motion for this guy to help me get my refund. The guy in the van tells me he wasn't planning on going inside, but apparently my assertion for him to help me did the trick. After I come back inside, the guy whips out my $5.29 so fast, I almost forgot that I had waited fifteen minutes for this. My friends told me that my signaling to the other guy must've scared the clerk. Not knowing what a bunch of frum Jews were capable of doing at 12:30 at night was enough to make him give me my money back. Lebowicz 1... Dunkin Donuts... nothing.