What things get under your skin? What things drive you crazy? For me, it's not when the boys put sticks in their mouth, try to nose-dive off of the couch or throw their grilled cheese. Those things I can handle. No, the thing that's really driven me crazy is going to the grocery store. Namely, the deli.
Here's why.
I went to grab some groceries between activities on Saturday with a full list in hand. My mission? Get everything I could within 45 minutes and home in time for a birthday party (which, of course, I had not yet wrapped the gifts for!) And I was focused. I weaved in and out of each aisle, crossing things off my list and anxious to be done. Thankfully, my mom had come over to watch the boys so I could get what I needed; grocery shopping is so much easier when you're not swerving to keep them from pulling everything off the shelves and in two different directions.
Anyway, I walked toward the deli and grabbed a number. You know, those little tickets that come out of that little red thing? I love that thing. I did not push anyone over to get my number. I was not in a rush, but my steps were confident and defined. No one was within twenty feet of me. I know this doesn't seem important now, but it will be in about thirty seconds. I stood at the counter and waited for the girl ahead of me to finish her order. She had a baby girl sleeping in her cart; I admired her little pink outfit and said another prayer, thanking God that my babies were at home.
The lady behind the counter called my number. I made eye contact and said, "Yep, that's me" and began to give my order when I heard another lady interrupt.
"Uh, I was here first. I don't have a number, but I was before her."
What?
A lady who had been standing on the side, now had both hands on her hips and her finger pointing at me. A big gold chain dangled from her overly-tanned wrist. She was probably about forty years old, her husband was pushing the cart and she still had her sunglasses on. I immediately turned my head and just stared a moment in confusion.
What?
This is the deli. We take numbers. It doesn't matter how long you happened to be standing there, but when you take your number. That's how it works. That's how it has alllllways worked. I had a million things in my mind that I wanted to say, but all that came out of my mouth was, "Oh. Uh, okay."
Once I realized that I had just sustained a cheap shot, I was fuming. I mean, livid. I was sooo mad. How dare she have such little respect for me? For my time? For the system? I couldn't even look in her direction. Her husband seemed to feel a little embarrassed as he slumped over the front of the cart. But I couldn't look at him either. I'm guessing he deals with this sort of thing a lot.
Another lady behind the counter took my order not even ten seconds later. Would it have killed her to wait that long for her spot in line (even if she didn't even have a number?!) It took me a good ten minutes to calm myself down after I received my Swiss cheese and turkey slices. And the worst part of it was that I kept running into them on my rounds around the store. I intentionally changed my path a few times just so I wouldn't be in the same aisle as her at the same time. I just couldn't take it.
Walking around the store, I couldn't believe how much I let that situation get under my skin. I mean, it didn't cost me anymore than ten seconds. Even if it was an additional five minutes, that's certainly not the end of the world. I still had more than enough time, my babies were well taken care of and everyone was fine.
I had to apologize to that lady (in my head, of course) to keep myself from finding out where she lived and paying a visit to give her a piece of my mind. That act of forgiveness was the only way I could shake it off. I had to forgive her. I made up a story about how she really was there first, but she left to rescue a baby choking on a piece of candy and returned just after I did, but didn't take a number. Yeah, it's a little far-fetched, but it works.
Anger is a horrible thing, a cancer that grows and spreads with every incidence. If not completely cut out, it will grow into something horrible and will strike at the most inopportune time.
So, lady with the long pointed fingers, I apologize for getting frustrated with you. But next time, would you mind terribly just grabbing one of those convenient little tags before placing your order at the deli? The next person may not be so forgiving ;)
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