Three Strikes

Morning: The lady in the woods who, for reasons still unclear, called me an asshole

I think it may have had something to do with her dog being in a bad mood and me not stopping to talk to her about it.

Afternoon: The lady with the chips who hissed I was rude

The store was packed, the energy chaotic. The lines to check out reached far into the snacks and grocery aisles. Our supervisors rang the bells to get more help up front and as usual no one had the decency to help bag their own groceries.

At the end of my check stand she looked at me expectantly and asked, “Can I have a bag for my bag of chips?” I said “Yah go for it” gesturing towards the stack of bags piled right next to her, my hands full with someone else’s money.

Counting cash, continuing with the customer I was trying to help, I looked back at her. She stared at me and asked again, “Can I have a bag for my bag of chips?” I smiled and said, “Of course you can, take as many as you’d like.”

I finished with the transaction, closed the register drawer and wondered why in the world this woman was still standing there staring at me. She was closer to the bags than I was.

“Can I have a bag for my chips?” she asked.

I walked towards her and the stack of bags and responded with the only thing that seemed appropriate: “Do you need me to hand you a bag?”


Like Vesuvius she erupted. She must have said it fifteen times to anyone who would listen as she walked to the door spitting the entire way. “You are so rude! Oh my god you are so incredibly rude! Did you hear her? She is so rude. Do you know what she just said to me? How can you?! Oh you are so rude…” Over and over and over again.

Evening: The lady I can’t remember who claims I ruined her vision

Later my supervisor called me outside to have a “conversation” about a customer who had come through my line. Assuming it was over the chips I launched into the story of how yes, I may have been rude, but come on there were 100 people in line and she was standing closer to the bags than I was. I was helping two other people for goodness sake and who needs a bag for their bag anyway?!

Turns out it was someone else I had pissed off – some old lady who could not get over the fact that I didn’t say hello or something. He explained the situation and I can honestly say I have no recollection of this woman I upset so much she found it necessary to speak with the store manager and say things like I ruined her vision of the company and what it stood for.

Why were all the ladies so helpless yesterday? I myself felt vulnerable and debilitated when I got home last night. One of the hardest things about being single is there’s no one to help brighten the mood at the end of a craptacular day. Instead I popped some melatonin and slept for eleven hours.

I blame the super moon.


3 thoughts on “Three Strikes”

  1. So I wonder what the lesson is for you and the work you’re doing with your life. One possibility might be that you’ve been shown what happens to people who don’t follow their dreams and are left with empty lives in which one unsuspecting and innocent person becomes the focal point of all that’s wrong.

    Eleven hours of sleep??!?!? Maybe you should get yelled at more often. That’s a huge gift. 🙂


  2. There are assholes every where. Little old women who have nothing to do but make people’s life miserable are all over the place. why do they do this? most likely it because they are alone and lonely like someone we know. Being alone makes them angry. Being lonely means they have no life, ther’s has either stopped or it never started in the first place. look east for an example.

    Now for good news. I followed-up like I promise, I have dr’s appointmnet next month to start the physical. Dr will even write me a note to give to you. feel better now?


I'd love to connect! Please leave a comment and share:

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s