Saturday, August 06, 2005

Things that make me rage-y

Okay, here's the scene:

Zellers Grand Reopening down the street. It's 10:30am, and the place is an absolute zoo. (I wanted to get there earlier; but then again, I want to be thinner and have a gorgeous boyfriend and that ain't happening anytime soon, either.)

I'm in line - I have two balls of novelty yarn for a project. Behind me are a "mature" couple with a few things in their cart. In front of me was a woman with four pillows and an assortment of household goods in her cart. In front of her are a family who must be trying to get around some kind of limit on the number of boxes of tissues you can purchase because all five of them are carrying several boxes each. The cashier is a lovely, patient woman, - I have no quarrel with her because she was fabulous.

Grandma checks out her purchases. Older sister checks out her purchases, and they leave. Youngest sister goes to check out her purchases - she has school supplies in addition to boxes of tissues. The total is rung up - she comes up short on the cash, so she starts taking things out of the bag to return.

Here's where the rage begins: Woman in front of me turns around and says to me and the couple behind me, in a loud voice, "I can't believe she tried to buy all that stuff when she knew she didn't have enough money. Where are her parents, and why did they take off? Why can't her sisters just pool their money and loan her some? Now we're stuck in line while she returns stuff and the cashier has to find her supervisor." Couple behind me make statements of agreement in a slightly lower volume. I turn and face in a random direction to keep from shoving the balls of yarn up her nostrils.

Here's what I should have said: "Gee, it's not embarrassing enough to be caught short at the checkout, than have some stupid idiot in line behind you announce it to the general public and make demeaning comments about you and your family, so - fuck you, bitch." (Okay, maybe not that last part.)

(The couple behind me kept muttering about it until I turned around and gave them The Look - anyone who has had the misfortune of pissing me off knows what The Look looks like, and knows I mean business when I use it.)

And then do you know what she had the nerve to do? Argue with the cashier about the stupid pillows. THEY WERE A LOUSY $3.00 - I paid $14.00 for similar pillows last month, you ninny! SHUT UP AND PAY THE NICE CASHIER BEFORE I LOSE IT COMPLETELY!

I made damn sure I was sweet as pie to that cashier.

(And a big fat "burn in HELL, bastard!" to the spammer who found my Gmail address. I hope something nasty and vague happens to you! )

("Why," you are asking yourselves, "is she a bitch tonight?" Well, that would be because the Nonspecific Stomach Aliment from Wednesday didn't go away until Friday night, to be replaced by the Migrane That Drugs Aren't Helping. If you read this post before I recover and delete it, then a hearty congrats to everyone who got to see me drop the f-bomb for the first time in print.)