You can’t say you didn’t see me coming. We made eye contact. Just after I said to my boys, “Come on boys. Let’s get going.”
You see, they’re little boys. And they dawdle. And daydream. But we had to get going. This was an unscheduled stop in our on-the-way-home-from-school routine. #1son’s shoes ripped at the seams during school and needed to be replaced. We came in for a pair of shoes. We ended up with two pairs, one for each boy. They wanted to hold the boxes themselves. Apparently, walking and holding a box was slowing them down.
You had been browsing in the women’s section. When you heard me, our eyes locked. And then you looked at the registers and noticed there was no line. So you shoved your cart out into the aisle and elbowed (yes, elbowed) my son, my seven-year-old son, out of your way. And then you proceeded to race us to the cashier.
You won. With your nineteen items and my two. I glared at you, trying to stare a hole in the back of your head. Wishing evil things. Things I can’t share here because my readers think I am oh-so-kind. But I’m not. Not when an almost elderly woman, with a wedding band, who has surely had children, nearly mows down my child and pushes past me in order to beat us to the line.
So we waited behind you, quite patiently. And then it happened. Item number 12 needed a price check. “I’ll wait,” you said oh-so-sweetly. So we all waited. Me. My boys. And the 4 people now behind us.
Finally, another cashier opened. She said a few times, “I’ll take the next in line.” Which was me. But with 4 more people behind us, I knew someone else would jump ahead of me. But the lady insisted. And so did the lady directly behind me. So we, me and my boys, step out of line and who should appear? Another (insert expletive) jerk who was in more of a hurry than I was, apparently.
The kind, sweet soul who was behind us in the first line graciously called me over to my original spot. She shook her head and commiserated with me. You see, she noticed not only Mr. Jerk, but you, too. I said, “Some days are like this.” “But they shouldn’t be,” was her reply.
You left. Finally. And we paid for our measly two items. And walked out of the store. Me and my dawdling two boys. You were parked right next to me. You were preparing to drive away. But you saw us coming. Protectively, I put out my hands to stop my boys from walking. If your driving was anything like your shopping cart maneuvers, we were in trouble.
But you waved us ahead. I stood firm. You kept waving. Finally, I allowed us to cautiously, so very cautiously, step in front of your car. And safely pass in front of you to our own vehicle.
It was the least you could do.
(Ok. I feel better now.)