I debate going to the store today after work. My school day is frenetic, manic, and frenzied. By the time 2:45 rolls around, I am fried. But the weather tomorrow is supposed to be spectacular, and I want nothing more than to come home directly from work and sit on my keister on my patio. After all, it's not often we get 60 degree weather in February.
But, still. I really, really, really detest shopping of any kind. Okay, except shoes if I'm lucky enough to find something, but I draw the line on everything else. Wait. Books. I like shopping for books. That's it, though. Sometimes shoes and always books.
All right, all right; let's get this crap out of the way.
I make my shopping list, not too many items, and try my best to stick to it. I grab a few things I wasn't expecting to buy, like crackers and avocados, but mostly I check off the line items as I go. I get myself and my cart of groceries into a line, and a wonderful gentleman in front of me works the divider so his groceries are packed tightly, allowing me to get my stuff onto the conveyor belt. The cashier is sort of slow, but I grin and bear it. Truly, the line isn't that long.
Suddenly a tall man sidles up behind me with his arms full of a mop, windshield wiper fluid, and a few other items. He shuffles so close to me that he is practically sharing my pants. I cannot go anywhere because the wonderful gentleman is still in front of me, trying to pay for his groceries, and my carriage prevents me from any momentum. Tall Man decides he is tired of holding his items and promptly slams the gallon jug of wiper fluid onto the conveyor belt and onto my loaf of bread.
I make momentary eye contact. Oh, no you didn't. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, nooooooooooooooooo.
Here's the part I don't understand, though. He has maybe four items. Why did he NOT go into the express lane? Did he think I would say, "Oh, gee, rude asshole, why don't you just go in front of me because you're oh so entitled?"
Okay, so maybe he thought I would be a little nicer, but honestly, truly; fuck you. No, really; fuuuuuuuuuck yourself. If people are in a hurry, don't get into a line for more than a dozen items, behind several people with carts full of stuff. In other words, don't be a dick about shopping. Nobody likes it, and right now, nobody likes you, either.
Tall Man is damn lucky I'm tired. He's damn lucky I didn't want to be here to start with. He's damn lucky I'm in a silent rage. He's damn lucky all I smacked him with is the belt divider. Maybe, just maybe next time he'll use the express lane but I don't hold out much hope. Entitled, stupid people are, unfortunately, not a very rare breed around here.
