Ever have days where you feel like this guy? First, I attempted to make a turkey sandwich to bring to work but I got bum rushed by our two cats and it cost me two slices of roast turkey to thwart the attack. Then when I get to the Chambers St Subway station, I realize I have but seventy-five cents left on my Metro card so before I exit I go renewed it at one of the two kiosks near the exit. Both kiosks are occupied so I run over to the newsstand in the station to pick up the News and the Post. I can not break the habit of buying these tabloids; it’s kind of like the last remnants of the “olden” days when all my info came from newspapers, and a hard habit to break.
Anyway, I go back to the Metrocard kiosks and this young lady seems to be playing these machines like your old Aunt Bess works the slots at the Borgota in A.C. Seems her credit card wasn’t going through on either unit, so instead of clearing them out she just walks away. Are you fucking kidding me? Even though she was damn cute I still had to give her a “oh, what the fuck”?, early in the morning. So now I have to clear the machine and as I’m doing that, a 2 train from Brooklyn rolls in and of course the Brooklynites getting off the train need to recharge their cards as well and with me clearing the machine and dipping my credit card and putting in my zip code I start getting the “oh what the fuck treatment” I don’t have time to tell them my story as I still have to get coffee and go punch in, so it’s off to my favorite Dunkin Donuts on Chambers St.
Now I’ve written about the change in personnel at this DD and the service has gotten worse, where as the Hindu Princess that worked the counter would see me and have my XL coffee, milk only ready. They even knew my signs better than any Mets player did from Razor Shines last year. They’d point at the dounuts and bagels and if I pointed at my stomach that meant “no way, too fat today” If I did want something I’d just flash the number of fingers that corresponded to the breakfast special on the board, like a basket ball point guard calling out a play. By the time I reached the front of the line my order was ready. Life was good. Now there are two Latina Princess behind the counter and quite frankly I don’t mess with them because I think they can kick my ass. One is nice but slow the other is pissed off to be working there and always has a smirk on her face. Everyday the line gets longer and longer but today topped it off. The line was out the door and onto Chambers St, the actual street! Now I had no time to wait so it was off to Plan B the 7-11.
Not bad coffee is very fresh, nice big cups and it’s even cheaper than DD. One problem the dickhead behind the counter is too busy looking at his bills to come to the register. So it what could be a record, I had my second “Oh, What the fuck”? of the morning and it wasn’t even 7:30 yet. So I get to work, punch it, open my yogurt (yes it’s an I’m too fat day today) open up the Post to read Mike Vaccaro’s telling me “what we have here in St Lonesome is a failure to communicate” as it pertains to Jose Reyes and his Thyroid.
It can’t be this difficult can it? Player goes for tests. Tests results come back. Doctor calls player with results. Player tells agent who in turn tells management. Management, medical staff, player, player agent either meet or set up conference call to get all the facts straight in order to send out press release. So who lost their way here? Why is this so difficult?
So far we know that Reyes either has or doesn’t have a Thyroid condition. If he does ,it can be regulated by diet or medicine. He will or won’t be back at spring training this week. It’s either very early in the spring or it’s getting late to worry about Reyes. Reyes will either lead off on opening day or bat 3rd. My head will either explode by noon or I will bang my head into my office wall.
Wait for the press release.
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