Being a gluten-free bitch is one thing. Being a high maintenance gluten-free bitch (HMG-FB) is another thing entirely. Maybe I’m deluding myself but I think it’s possible to be a charming, witty, adorable, low key gluten-free bitch (CWALKG-FB). Okay, I probably definitely am deluding myself, but can’t we get our needs met the old-fashioned way? Without anyone knowing?
For those of you who are unclear on the concept, here is an example of a HMG-FB trying to order something at an easy going local coffee shop that occasionally carries some gluten-free goodies (Goodies, is perhaps, too strong a word.) Lets call her Harmony: Harmony is your typical groovy, skinny, yoga pant wearing, messenger bag yielding type of a HMG-FB. I don’t know for a fact, but I’m guessing that Harmony is gluten-free by choice. So we are already off to a bad start.
Harmony is at the front of the line. There are five people in line behind Harmony. And they need coffee. Harmony ponders the lack of gluten-free choices, asking detailed questions about each item. There are long thoughtful pauses in between the questions. Harmony expresses her dissatisfaction with the choices, explaining that she was in last week and they had other, better options. The very patient barista explains to Harmony that they make a certain amount of G-F baked foods every day but that they often run out of them quickly and they have a small kitchen and only one baker and they can only bake so many mediocre sweets a day. Harmony will not let it go. Harmony then explains that she had considered going to a different coffee shop that also carries G-F goods, however she has chosen THIS coffee shop. The still patient barista restates his defense. Harmony undaunted, says that she guesses she should call ahead the next time she is considering which coffee shop she should give her business to. The barista does not say “Knock yourself out,” but those of us standing in line behind Harmony are wishing he would. She decides to order a drink instead and spends the next several minutes inquiring about the non dairy options. There is a lengthy conversation about what lactose-free milk is. Another employee is called in to take over. No body seems to know the answer. I do but I keep my mouth shut. Finally Harmony makes a decision.
The line begins to move. When it is my turn I consider apologizing on behalf of gluten-free people everywhere, but I don’t. I consider ordering the gluten free sandwich in the case, but the bread looks a little funny. I could get the soup, but it might have flour in it. I could ask, but I don’t. I just suck it up, and order a latte.