I had just left the cancer support group meeting. It was, as usual, amazing. We talked about healthy eating styles. Afterwards, the kids and I were shopping for foods that were healthy. I had a bag of quinoa in my hand. I said hello to the checker, and did the small talk, and here she came.
I didn’t really see her coming. I am sure if I had paid attention I could have felt the ground beneath us quake as she stomped in a tantrum up to the boy checking my groceries.
“I only bought one of these,” she hurriedly said.
I didn’t really mind the interruption. It was, after all, small talk.
“She charged me for three. Three. If she would slow down a little bit, maybe she could do her job.”
I tuned the woman out. I really do not care for people like her, and I am sure nothing I had to say would contribute to her suddenly having a sunny disposition. I continued putting my groceries on the belt, and he continued scanning.
I went to Aldi. This is a store where you bag your own groceries. I start bagging. My three children are helping me. That sometimes feels a little annoying, but if they want to help, I let them. Here come her two children right up to my cart. The first one touches it.
Now, I do not like anyone touching me or my stuff. I do not find it cute for the children of any strangers to come in the vicinity of my own personal exclusive bubble. My personal space is not your kids’ zone. I am completely uncomfortable around strange children. This is not the child’s fault. His mother, though, continued her bagging of her groceries and outright ignoring her children. I saw the woman glance over at least twice.
I say hello in a rather neutral tone. What I received as a reply sounded a bit like bitty bitty bop bop boop. I am not sure what this meant, so I tell my kids, “Just bag the groceries and let’s go.”
The woman was within earshot. I do not suspect she was stupid. I do suspect she may be a bit lacking in any social graces, but she does not seem incapable of comprehending that her children are rudely standing there, calling my children weird.
It is not my job to correct a stranger’s children. I know this woman heard it. The funny thing is, she complained about a young lady at a register being too hurried to do her job correctly, and this woman is a complete and utter failure at hers. This was so infinitely ironic, yet she was far too consumed in her blind corner of the world to even see it.
Character is sometimes easy to define just by how we treat people who are in the service industries. If you treat a waiter, a fast food worker, or a checker in this manner, I honestly believe it shows a severe flaw in who you are. Working people are not your door mats. They are not someone who you can use to boost the way you view yourself by putting them down. We are all busy. That really is not an excuse.
I really hope to never run into her again. My life is too short, and that is a vibe my journey can do without.
So, our journey continues on.