Confession: I can be very impatient.
They say patience is a virtue, but I don’t think it’s a virtue that shares my DNA. (To be fair, my family has many other fine qualities!) Throw in an east coast upbringing and look out. But please don’t confuse this with being impolite. I am unfailingly polite (See, see! It’s one of the aforementioned fine family qualities of which I speak! Unless..someone starts with me, but… that’s a story for another day.)
See, my impatience manifests itself into little voices rattling in my head, as I bite my tongue (I don’t need medicine! I’m NOT the one with the problem…read on!)
If anyone could hear these voices, they might be scared. Sometimes they seep out under my breath and my husband is privy to them—he says I’m “sick”, that I need to calm down. I guess he’s the yin to my yang, or is it the yang to my yin? Either way, he might just save me from myself some day!
Is it wrong that I daydream about punching people in the grocery store? I admit it, I have produce rage.
If I’m standing behind you and you are hemming and hawing for what seems like an eternity over which ears of corn to choose—peeling the corn back, scrutinizing the ears like you’re a mad scientist in a lab—I might just fantasize about picking one up and beating you upside the head with it.
Come on! You’re buying an ear of corn—not choosing a husband, not picking a house (God help those people’s realtors if this is the saga involved in choosing a vegetable! There is not a high enough commission percentage in the world!) I wouldn’t mind, but corn costs like $1.99 for 1800 ears. I want to shove $2 at the corn huskers and just shout, “It’s on me—live with reckless abandon and just randomly pick some and GOOOOOO! Be free from the ties that bind….try it, you’ll like it!”
These have to be the same people in the deli line who order five slices of ham. Five slices? What is that about? You can’t round up to the nearest quarter pound even? What are you doing with five slices of ham? Have you calculated that five slices is the right amount for one sandwich? Are you putting said ham in some kind of recipe? If you ordered a third of a pound and you got seven slices, would that rock your world? You don’t know a dog or a teenager you can toss an extra slice of ham at?
I’m certain the people who putt down the center of the grocery aisles going one mile an hour and refuse to move to the side so you can pass, are the exact same culprits going 45 mph in the fast lane on the highway— while I nearly pop a blood vessel! I’m not a speed racer by any means (safety first!), but people like this just cause needless traffic jams. Worse, I’m positive their snail pace causes accidents, and theorize their lane hogging is actually a symptom of being so self centered they don’t care about the other shoppers and drivers! Now that’s just rude and ignorant—which on the scale of not so great qualities, are far worse transgressions than being impatient. Just sayin’.
The only caveat with the supermarket lane hog is if the person is elderly. I can’t get annoyed if an older person is in the way at the grocery store, and no one should ever give someone’s granny a hard time—that’s just wrong. (And if I see you doing it, you’re on notice—you will get a size 8 shoe up your butt or I’ll squish you with my muffin top.)
Besides, we’ll all be old someday. Today, we get carded. (I’m thinking positively!) Tomorrow, we get bussed to the market clutching the sale flyer— and don’t you forget it!
Old people are also the only ones who get a pass for WRITING A CHECK.
Who even writes a check anymore besides 85 year old ladies? The 85 year olds get a pass because God love ‘em for being out shopping and kvetching about banana prices. But frumpy 40 year olds, they should know better than to hold up the line writing a check since the FREAKING debit card came into favor 15 years ago when they were 25, which leads me to deduce they are just ANNOYING and badly in need of a corn cob slap as a general public service!
Really, how you conduct yourself in the grocery store speaks volumes about you as a person. Take heed of my rules and we’ll be fine. Otherwise, you just might get hit with an errant banana one of these days if my husband doesn’t keep me in check!