Why I Can’t Quit Dunkin’ Donuts
A couple of weeks ago, while I waited for my psychiatrist to write up my prescriptions at the end of our session, I mentioned that I was heading to the new Dunkin’ Donuts that just opened down the street from her office. “One opened near my house, too. It’s changed my life. I eat about 60 doughnuts a week. Want me to pick you up anything before I come next time?” I should have just kept my mouth shut because it was then, with T minus 30 seconds to go in my appointment, that she had an Halleluja moment. “You know, your lack of concentration, the trouble you’ve been having falling asleep, and the fact that you’re tired all of the time may be linked to the sugar from all of the doughnuts you’ve been eating. Maybe you should try cutting back.” So now Dunkin’ Donuts is not only making me fat, it’s making me crazy as well. Perfect.
And so I came to Dunkin’ Donuts today determined to drink a coffee, finish an appetizing story about a cyst, and get out of there without ordering a doughnut. You would think I’d find a new place to get coffee, one without pastries, but even though I’m not supposed to be eating five dozen doughnuts in a sitting anymore I can’t quit this place. And here’s why.
For some reason Dunkin’ Donuts has free wireless Internet. I don’t know why, but it does. Even better is the fact that there are actually three other people in here working on laptops. One of them is wearing a suit and has powdered sugar on his tie, and one appears to be homeless.
A guy who looks like Eddie Murphy from Nutty Professor just walked through the door and ordered a half dozen chocolate glazed. I assumed these doughnuts were to go and contemplated tripping Professor Klump on his way out, but he foiled my plan by sitting down at a table to my left and digging in. Shit. To my right the manager is interviewing the homeless guy with the computer and a woman who doesn’t speak English. The homeless guy is trying to complete some sort of online training but can’t use a computer, and all the manager can say to the woman of Mexican descent is “Excuse me, Senorita, por favor.” The homeless guy is trying to get proof of his new found employment to take back to wherever, but the manager can’t give that to him because he’s not on the schedule yet, and he can’t get on the schedule yet because he has only completed the iced tea and coolatta online training and has many more sessions to go. Meanwhile, things have taken an interesting turn with the Hispanic lady and her child, who looks to be about six and who speaks English, has been called in to translate. “Oh, you want a job for your sister? Ok, who are you? And who is she? Can she stand on a sandwich line? Ok then, tomorrow at 8 o’clock. See you here.”
After giving a job to person he has never met, but who can apparently make a sandwich, the manager goes back behind the counter where a worker tells him he wanted to go home. “Do you want to go to lunch now or do you want to go home? Which one are you going to do? Because it’s not time for you to go home yet.” The employee decides to go home anyway. A few minutes later, a woman with an unlit cigarette hanging out of her mouth escorted the guy out the door and to the parking lot where his ride was waiting. As they pass me, I realize the guy has a droopy eye and an obvious mental disability. Apparently it takes all kinds to keep a doughnut shop running.
While all of this is going on, someone in a Jimmy John’s uniform has come in for a doughnut, as has someone with a Burger King uniform and someone with a Harris Teeter Grocery Store name tag. A cop car just pulled up and the officer is handing out junior deputy stickers to the kids, including the translator.
The corner with the trainee laptop has turned into a vagrant camp, as there are now two other people crowded around watching the training video about the proper way to pour a cup of coffee. The new comers don’t look as though they have a steady roof over their heads, either. They are informed, “No matter where the Dunkin’ Donuts is, the order is always the same. Creamer, sugar, dairy, coffee. Creamer, sugar, dairy, coffee.”
A kid is crying because his brother just licked the icing off his doughnut, while another one is hacking up a lung without covering his mouth. A toddler is laying on the floor by the juice fridge crying because she is afraid of the cop with the stickers.
Did I mention the fact that this particular Dunkin’ Donuts occupies a space of only about 400 square feet, so all of this action is going on within touching distance? And that I’ve only been sitting here for fifteen minutes? God, I love this place.
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Reflection
As I sit here at Dunkin’ Donuts with the thumb that I pretty much cut off this morning dripping blood through the 4 band-aids that are holding it in place on my hand (humm, perhaps I should have gotten some stitches), I’m reminded of my old neighbor Mr. Bolden, who also loved Dunkin’ Donuts and was thumbless. Only I think he lost his thumb in the war or something, and mine is almost certain to fall off as a result of an incident involving a can of cat food. Other than that, we’re pretty much the same person now, Mr. Bolden and me. It looks like I’m going to have to take up smoking, get a Lincoln Mark V, fill it with premium gasoline, and buy a bag of cheese puffs once a week for the kids next door.
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Jesus really wants us to eat donuts.
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Amy,
It’s a little early for gin…
That’s exactly what a Nazi would say. Nazi.
I definitely just read this after going through that same DD drive thru where a…uh…person who gave me my coffee could barely fit him/herself into the drive thru area and had his/her BRIGHT purple underware hanging out of the back of his/her uniform. He/she also asked me (after I handed him/her a 10$) if I needed change. Um, yeahhhh….
My coffee is, however, delicious.
When I was 12/13 years old, my parents owned a Dunkin Donuts in Raleigh Hills, OR (between Beaverton & Portland). 20 months. I worked there weekends and summers.
It was a long time after that before I ate another donut.
Time to make the doughnuts!
I have had one doughnut from a Dunkin doughnuts. Never again.
Gautreaux’s, Meche’s or Doughnut King. Thats the ticket! You need that 100% pure hog lard. Anything less and you cheat yourself.
A Hog lard doughnut? Seriously? Who are you? I’m fascinated.
I seriously was going to write you a letter about you having to stop going to DD because I can’t stop thinking about it since twitter texts me whenever you talk about donuts. Seriously, I can’t stop thinking about them and I don’t think I have eaten a donut in years. But now that I know why you can’t leave there, I understand. Just whatever you do, don’t talk about the marble donut that you just ate because if you do, I might just have to stop and get me one… or ten.
….about Mr. Bolden…you forgot to mention a privileged parking space right up beside the place…mainly because your large car could not fit a in regular slot and even if it did you wouldn’t want a Dunkin punk denting your doors….
Oh Man!! I love my dunkin’! There used to be a great commercial…Dun- kin’ dooo-nuts, ya can’t buy ‘em in a groo-cery, Dun-kin’ doo-nuts…it’s worth the trip!
Yeah, baby. I’ll have to see if I can get free internet and write columns…but I definitely do dry kitty food to keep my thumbs intact…Have a great Day!
You are obsessed with Dunkin’ Donuts, but that’s ok. They are already too many bloggers out there who are obsessed with or trash Starbucks, so this is a refreshing discourse!
According to my mom in England donuts are spelled “doughnuts” and that makes them much posher. According to your blog, you need a little posh in your life right now. Why not just hang out at the Durham bus depot? At least that has some Art Deco architecture.
I’ve got roofers on the roof and about the only thing I’m going to get done in my office this morning is shredding. I can’t tell you what a welcome diversion your post on donuts is for me today. The trouble is now I want a donut to go with my wheat germ and flax seed meal. Don’t tell SparkPeople!
You are too funny!
Krispy Kerme. No DD for me. Crullers, mmmmm-mmmmm…
Kreme, dagnabit. Kan’t spel verry gud…
Why oh why don’t you post more often? Ugh, I hate having to wait for more Just Barely…
Ok, first off, my kids are totally addicted to DD and I judiciously dole them out for good behavior.
Secondly, as twisted as all the Dunkin’ Donuts Denizens were, did you pause to question how you were perceived? Hunched over your keyboard, strawberry frosted with sprinkles half hanging out of your mouth, shifty eyes moving hither and yon as you catalogue the folks around you?
Did you at least have your hair brushed?
You’re right–I’m totally a creepy Donut voyeur (or is that only a sex word? either way…). I only hope someone had the decency to write about me.
I don’t remember about the hair, but my guess is no.
Yeah, cuz really, you’re nobody unless someone blogs about you. That’s what I tell my kids, friends, and family when I bring up embarrassing stuff they’ve done. I think it soothes their hurt feelings but I also sleep with one eye open in case my son tries to lowcrawl into my bedroom and tries to snuff me in my sleep.
You were not at a Dunkin Donuts store. We can see right through this ruse, Amy, and we are not amused. Those of us who work in government know when we’re being spied on and beleive me…it will not go over well. My colleague (who also dresses in black) at the IRS wants to know how that tax return is coming.
Shit, does this mean I have to declare the $27.42 I made as a blogger last year?
“For some reason Dunkin’ Donuts has free wireless Internet.”
That’s because it’s a plot to get you hooked on DD so you will soon become:
ein DD true believer und togeser ve vill march toward ze total domination of ze vorld! DD und ze Reich Über alles!!!
Oh. Sorry … I was having a flashback or something.
The more I post, the more I realize I am thoroughly unprepared for the audience RU and BF has sent my way. Hog lard doughnuts? Government spies? German Doughnut Dictator flashbacks? I feel as if I need to go to some sort of sensitivity training or something. Or start watching 24.
“Please, Fuehrer, not the Jelly Doughnut interrogation technique! I’m pretty sure that’s not allowed by the Geneva Convention…”
Sign zie paper Frau und it vill becommen sehr besser …
Amy,
Pensando en tu dedo, recuerdas que el arbol de la libertad debe ser regado con la sangre de los patriotas de vez en cuando, pero chica ten mas cuidado por favor.
Regarding donuts, I keep telling my Maria that no one likes a skinny Santa Claus.
Semper Fi, Hank
Damn it, worldly types! Here’s my high school boyfriend: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ipp43nykrac He knows more Spanish than I do.
Nick, I’m going to need a translator here…
Pensando en tu dedo, recuerdas que el arbol de la libertad debe ser regado con la sangre de los patriotas de vez en cuando, pero chica ten mas cuidado por favor.
Thinking about your thumb, just remember that the tree of liberty must be sprinkled by the blood of the patriots from time to time, but lady please use a little more caution….
Just got this note from my Dear friend Dr. Morrow, she informed me this morning that today, Dunkin’ Donuts is doing “Iced Coffee Day,” their HOMES FOR OUR TROOPS drive. You just buy an iced coffee. Here’s the link https://www.dunkindonuts.com/icedcoffeeday/ This drive is today only, though there are opportunities to volunteer in the actual building down the road.
HOMES FOR THE TROOPS helps severely injured veterans build new homes or adapt existing homes to make them more accessible for their disability.
I told Dr. Morrow that she was taking a risk sending her note to a Coffee Baron Jarhead who sells Devil Dog Brew as his life blood. For a good cause I guess I’ll be drinking some Iced Coffee darn good excuse to grab a donut while I’m at it. There’s a Duncan Donuts within walking distance of my office……
Semper Fi, Hank
2nd reply – and regarding Spanish Mike, hilarious. I used to translate for the other Marines in Panama and torture them from time to time by sending them out armed with loaded pick up lines….
One buddy of mine wanted to dance with a cute girl at a private club, so I told him to just go up to her, be humble and say, “No me funciona.”
“It doesn’t work.”
I think Nick would have awarded me the Blue Falcon.
Semper Fi, Hank
I would also be given the Bravo Foxtrot shirt for a similar instance. On a trip to Canada with some friends, one of them became interested in some girls nearby. Since I took many years of French I was declared SME on the language. Using a line a french that translates to “I love your chest” my friend proudly started saying it thinking its a suave pickup line. The following slaps to the face were hysterical. To make things better aplogizing for your stupid friend is a good pickup line.
I’m sure you already know my feeling on this, but……..NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER quit Dunkin. Seriously. Good to see you finally found religion. I’ve got to get online more to help you through this trying time…… Maybe Nancy can teach me how to get those twitter updates she talked about (yeah, not likely……the amount of Dunkin I drink, there’s no WAY I could concentrate for long enough to pick it up…..)
Oh girl. I am sooo with you on this… on sooo many levels. This post really made me laugh out loud.