What? Am I EIGHT??

OK, this started yesterday at lunch. I wheeled up to the lunch counter (I would NEVER wait 40 minutes in line for this food if I had any choice). The choices for lunch were Spaghetti and mystery meat sauce, some kind of mixed veggies and grilled cheese sandwich. So, choosing the least offensive looking I chose the grilled cheese sandwich. The woman behind the counter (Flash back to every bad comedy movie you have ever seen featuring a woman serving slop behind a cafeteria counter), said, "Is that all you want"? I replied, yes it was. Well. She then proceeded to fill my plate with everything else ON TOP of the requested grilled cheese sandwich. As I wheeled myself seething to the table there were many, many things I wanted to say. Somehow I managed to keep my mouth zipped. (MY mother would have been so proud). I sat, ate my soggy grilled cheese sandwich and left the rest. Well, this morning I rolled up again for breakfast to find to my absolute horror the same woman behind the counter. This time when she asked what I wanted I simply stated, "I detest eggs and just want a muffin" (ALL the other choices were egg based). When she asked it I was sure I said YES as emphatically as I could without raising my voice. I wheeled to the table in triumph. Small muffin centered on my plate, a yoplait yogurt and banana proudly topping the tray off. As I sat at the table peeling the paper from my muffin, the elderly gentleman sitting next to me leaned over and said, "How did you pull that off? They insist on loading my plate with everything." I smiled and told him that I simply told her I don't like eggs. (I didn't want to start a revolt in the dining room by telling him the truth. Just because I'm on the other side of the counter doesn't mean I can't make a decision on my own. I'm NOT eight and have to be told what to eat.