Trouble by the Bushel

So here is a fun story...
I needed apples. The kids love apples. I called my produce company and ordered Gala apples, 113-125 count. Now, the "count" refers to the number of apples in a bushel, which is the case size. So 113-count means there's 113 apples in the case. It's a smallish apple, so it's great for my little kids.
The next morning, the delivery guy comes in with my apples. I look at the outside of the case...Red Delicious? Ru-roh, Shaggy! Those are not the droids I was looking for. I send them back. That afternoon, I call the produce company and talk to a person, order same apples. Gala, 113.
The next morning...Red Delicious. SERIOUSLY?! Did I not just send these back yesterday? Can they not read or do they not know a Red Delicious from a Gala? And if that is the case, why do they work for a produce company?! Delivery guy calls warehouse, they say they don't have Galas. I say, "You couldn't have told me that before I ordered them? I would've changed my order." I order Granny Smiths, 125 to be delivered that afternoon. They show up, with Granny Smiths, 77 count!!! These are freaking HUGE!
Call produce company, ask why the hell my apples are wrong, for the third time. Then order my granny smith apples for the next day, vowing that if they come in wrong this time, there will be a ruckus.
The next morning, I have a case of Granny Smiths, 125 count.
It took four days to get it right. *facepalm*

How bout them apples?

Maybe...

In the end, maybe none of it matters. When it all comes down to it, no one cares that you tried to feed them healthy stuff or that you tried to stay on budget. All that shows is numbers and bottom lines, and yours is bleeding to death. Because everyone wants an "upscale" dining experience but no one wants to pay for it. And everyone has an opinion, but no one will tell you to your face. In the end, all you get for caring so damn much is a constant headache and an ulcer. And no job is ever going to be worth that.
So maybe next year they'll have a new chef, and hopefully I will have moved on, and maybe that chef will have better ideas, more enthusiasm and then maybe that chef will learn what a soul-vacuum this place is.
Maybe...