Zen and the Art of Laundry Negotiations

This morning I took 10 shirts and two pairs of pants to the cleaners on 81st Street, just a few doors down from my apartment. Then I took the same 10 shirts and two pairs of pants to another cleaners, a few doors down from the first.
I will now explain the interesting seder of events which led up to the twice cleaners experience.
On Long Island the cleaners often clean your clothing in their own facility. There, in the dimly lit back rooms of the one story buildings next to Dairy Queens and in strip malls, the odors and stains, the sins of our 9-5 are removed in an unholy chemical process. In the city, the cleaners are mostly middle men - drop off points for locals - the clothing is picked up daily by the real cleaners and retuned either the next night or the morning after that. That's why shirts are .50 cents more expensive in the city and pants are a full $3.00 less economical. That's right - They are $3.75 on the Island and $6.75 in the City. But thats not the point of this thought.
So I go walk into the first cleaners - a peaceful little store. Chinese decorations hung in the back, a neatly made cot too and a clean table with fruit on it. The husband and wife were both there. She was sewing, he was running the counter. All of today's clean clothing was hung neatly on that moving bar thingy so that they can quickly find what they are looking for. The team was obviously well organized. The store had a relaxing air to it. I was in a pleasant mood going in and nothing hapenned until this point to ruin it. So I neatly pour my clothing onto the small counter and begin counting. 1, 2, 3 .... shirts, 2 pairs of pants. He stopped and closely examined my linen shirt. He wanted so say that it wasn't "going to fit on the machine" many have tried that on me before. I usually tell them to just put it on the damn machine. That I don't care if it comes out perfectly.
Then came the moment of truth. "When will the clothing be ready?" I asked. "Maybe in..." he looked up at the ceiling and then to his fingers. "Thursday", he said. Now, if I were to take the clothing to a cleaners on the Island, I would be picking up the stuff tonight, this afternoon if I rush them. I don't rush them anymore though. I look silly when I come two weeks later and the ticket says "crazy customer - super rush!" "Sorry about that" I say. "got busy."
I told him that Thursday afternoon was unacceptable. That it had to be quicker. There are some people who get their shit quick and there are some who get it slow. I like to at least feel like I get mine on time and not last because somebody else pushed their shit to the front.
I knew he could do it quicker. I felt that he was bluffing. I've had negotiations before with Chinese and I was sure about this one. "You can do it for me by Wednesday. I'm sure of it. Plus I'm a new customer" I said to him. Two days for shirts and pants seemed excessive to me to sweat. He told me there was nothing he could do. I felt the statement was counterfeit. I reach for my clothing, not at all angry as I still though I was winning this one, and neatly shoveled the pile into my tote. This was it. I was calling his bluff.
At last...he mumbles something under his breath, reaches for the ticket that he already printed and writes on it. I lean over to see what I have won. Was it a "Rush", a "Super Rush" maybe a "For Wednesday."

He had voided the ticket and told me that I would have to find another cleaners. I went around the block and settled for Thursday.