I took shit twice this week, and both times from a woman…. Wait, I’m a male, and I’m married – that statement is redundant.
I took the wife to a grocery store that we don’t normally patronize. Once you’re in, they give you all the room in the world, but, worried about ‘shrinkage’, they funnel you in, and funnel you out.
Finished with our shopping, we joined the mule-train heading for the exit. Suddenly, the two women with carts ahead of us, came to a complete stop. I waited for a few seconds to allow someone to put change or coupons in a purse, but when a minute had passed and we still weren’t moving, I looked to see what the holdup was.
Three women had entered the store, one, 5 to 10 years older than me, and what seemed to be her daughter and a friend. The daughter was treating her like she was senile, and giving minute instructions – go here, look for that, don’t buy this, etc., etc. The problem was, they’d stopped her when her cart was crossways to the access aisle. If the two in front of me wanted to stand there like sheep, I’d play herd-dog.
The old gal wasn’t leaning on the cart, so I grasped the front and slowly, gently turned it 90°, till it was against the wall, and out of everybody’s way. The senior’s hand and wrist moved with it. Now the two dreamers woke up and headed out of the store. The darling little old lady looked up in surprise and said, “Oh, was I blocking the aisle? I’m so sorry. I apologise!”, because that’s what thoughtful, well-mannered people do.
Suddenly, like a fireworks display, the daughter started popping off. To the friend, “Well, isn’t he aggressive?” To me, “What’s the matter? Are you so busy that you couldn’t wait a minute? She’s an old lady you know, and she has mobility problems.” At which point my wife hobbled up to the corner with her forearm crutch, where the bitch could now see her, and blasted right back at her. “I’m an old lady too, and I also have mobility problems, and it causes me a lot of pain to have to just stand there and wait!” Uh…yeah…well… She was still trying to close her mouth when we walked out.
Later in the week, I went down to my usual supermarket. It sits on a five-lane street, the center lane for left turns, everywhere except at the supermarket’s driveway, where the roads crew have painted a swoop and stop-line. I must turn left into that store, and oncoming traffic must turn left into the side street for the EuroFood market.
I pulled over and stopped for oncoming traffic in the other lanes. I looked up and saw a pair of seniors, older than me, coming at me. They want to go in on the side-road…. Whoa!! No they don’t! He wants to go on past me to the entrance at the far end of the strip-mall. He managed to get the car stopped just before he hit me, and then they sat there gesticulating at me.
When it was safe to do so, I pulled past them and made my left, but as I did so, the sweet little, 80-year-old wife rolled down her window and offered some verbal opinions. I’m glad I had my windows rolled up. When I got home I had to buff scorch marks off the passenger side of the car. I think a taxi driver had to pull over and catch his breath.
I saw the kind, round, old Germanic face, and heard (faintly) what was coming out of it, and all I could think of was the subservient, aproned haus-frau who curtseyed, and opened the counter-weighted gate for Goldfinger, in the James Bond movie – who went all Valkyrie, and pulled out a Schmeisser machine gun on him when he tried to escape.
Entitled without being attentive, opinionated without being informed, judgemental without the faintest shred of suspicion that they may be in error – I begin to understand how wars, and jihads, and feuds, and murders come about. It all comes back to the Ego and Insecurity.
Has someone taken you to task for something you were innocent of?? How did you handle it? 😕
While I’m asking questions….like the occasional debate as to whether to call carbonated soft-drinks Pop, Soda, or Coke (even when it’s obviously not)….I only referred to them as ‘carts’ in the body of the post, but I tagged it ‘shopping carts’, which is what I call them. I have heard them referred to as ‘buggies’, which I think of as a baby conveyance. At a couple of stores, I’ve heard the teenager paged to ‘go bring in the wagons.’ What do you call them?