It seems that this reached a head yesterday at the store. And I love going to Central Market for the variety, plus they make great flavored coffee. So I was just going to run in...
Well I should have turned right on around when I couldn't find a parking space, but instead I waited, and ran in only to find so many people at the gelato/coffee counter that you'd have thought CM was discontinuing flavors. No big deal I'll just wait in line. Before I could even do that some rich-bitch (yes, the entitled kind) got in my way. I'm not sure whether this was caused by the fact that she had forgotten to take her sunglasses off and so now did not see me in the "dimmer" light of the store, but before I new it I was almost trampled like a garden snake with a designer heel planted someone along my posterior. Seeing as how I had already been semi-run down by another rich-bitch in the parking lot who thought that cars were supposed to go before folks crossing the street, I had had enough. I wheeled around and hissed: "Why don't you just run me the fuck over?!?!". This is another one of those moments in life where I wish I acted with more dignity, but alas, no. I guess she didn't think me threatening to take her high-heel off and beating her to death with it was serious enough for an answer, so I got in line.
I hate lines. But there was only one person in front of me and the CM Barista was just finishing up with another customer, so I took a deep breath and waited. After all of two-minutes Devil-Me was ready to come back out. After another minute the lady in front of me (who's ass told me she shouldn't have been getting those latkes she was holding) decided to move to the register where the other barista was. It's a counter setting, if you stand there long enough they'll get to you. Another minute went by and she must have thought I'd escaped from the State School in Austin because she was all, "I don't think there's anyone at that one," Chortle, Snort, Chortle.
Small talk is never an art I mastered, and I loathe doing it to people in stores. I'm not there to make a personal connection. I say please and thank you, get what I need and I go. If I wanted to talk or hang out I have a cell phone with a bevy of folks I could call. Again, since it's a counter-setting I don't have to queue up behind a register. "Well, then she can just walk over this way!" I sneered (or rather shouted) at the top of my lungs to Ms. Fat Latkes 2009. That's when I noticed the family behind me quickly scurry to the other register that not contained the CM Barista, Ms. FL '09, and the newly arrived Appalled Family in its consumerist glow.
I then decided to take a walk around the store, not only because I knew I was acting a Hot Mess but also because my normal, genteel(-ish) self had returned and I was going to try to start over. All in all this episode just illustrates my week. I wish that by yesterday afternoon I had been able to throw my fit, cry a little and stomp my foot only to have Mom come and dry my tears while she soothed the savage beast. Don't get me wrong, I like Meredith Grey's adult world of no rules, lots of sex and great shoes, but there's something said for being able to throw a tantrum like a child.
I love going to the store, unless it's after 9 am on the weekend because at that point every fool on God's green earth descends on every grocery outlet like locusts on new crops. Inevitably there is always some rich-bitch who gets in the way because she's "entitled" or some asshole who's so hen-pecked that he can't turn around without direction. Then there's my other favorite grocery store visitor, the child who doesn't know their place because we don't believe in spanking anymore.
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