Words and Numbers 123/ Brain farts, odd bits
Posted on October 12, 2012
Em Drevets posted twice about time, see them at http://www.drevets.com It got me thinking. Why to I get right to the edge of meltdown when I have to wait longer than the alloted time set by my brain. Notice I didn’t say mind. This is an innate thing we all have. Waiting at the mega-mart to check out our whole wheat pasta and butternut squash, some little old lady is counting out pennies, the husband dunned into shopping by his wife has coupons, none of them for the items he has in his basket. As we wait the throb of our pulse becomes external. Fingers are keeping time on the handle of the cart. A little foot shuffle kicks in. The finger drumming gets more intense. The LOL is chatting up the clerk. The clerk has had enough bad juju tossed at her today she smiles, nods and hopes the manager doesn’t think she has a problem. The guy with the coupons is getting steamed. It’s a male thing. Stuff is out of his control, he doesn’t like it, not one bit. The LOL has moved on and the clerk is checking the guy’s items. All the while he’s standing there, staring at the clerk. The bagger’s run out of plastic bags and is hunting for more. The big guy is fishing around in his pockets for the coupons. Out they come, crumpled, chushed they fall in a pile on the conveyer. The clerk picks them up one by one and smooths each one out. She passes them over the scanner and every other one beeps. The clerk hands the invalid ones back and the guy starts to complain. From his initial gambit, “Try them again” shows he’s not used to losing arguments. The authority in his voice should be a signal to the clerk that he is an alpha male and a woman isn’t going to tell him he’s wrong. The clerk calmly tells him the coupons aren’t good for the items he’s bought. “They’re coupons for Chrissakes. They’re the same thing as the stuff my wife wrote on the list.” The clerk doesn’t have time to explain that coupons are specific to certain items. She tells the man they’ll hold his items while he goes back and gets the proper items. All this time your shuffling and drumming have ratcheted up to slow, simmering fury. Not the “I’m God and I’ll flood the world.” fury. But rather a desire for the guy to slowly be lowered into a boiling vat of the aftershave he’s wearing. His face is red and he’s puffed himself up to scare the clerk. It isn’t working. The clerk has flashed the light on top of the pole that has the number of the checkout on it. A manager will sort this out. Meanwhile behind us the line lengthens and other people have gone into their ritual dances to dispel the waiting. The mamager arrives. She calmly reviews the options a) The guy can just pay up and walk out, b) Go and get the proper items, c) File a complaint with the company, or d) She’ll call (non-existent) security. The guy mulls over his options. He pays up and heads to the parking lot muttering about filing a complaint and never shopping here again. You hand the clerk your store card. She scans your items. You slide your debit card and punch in your PIN. The terminal flashes “Processing” then “Invalid Card” . Steaming crap squared. You search you wallet for sixty seven fifty. You’ve got forty. Smile, look at the clerk and say “Hold the cart. I’ll be right back.” The manager pulls your cart to the holding area as the pint of prmium ice cream melts. A dash out to your car and off to the your branch of the bank. They know you there and will explain the snafu. Just miss running red lights you pull into the parking lot. Quick step into the branch office. The assistant manager you semi-flirt with is behind her desk. As you pull up to her desk she smiles up at you. You sit and explain the problem. She’s got the information on her terminal. Somebody used your card for a purpose that wasn’t usual to your buying habits. The card was shut down by the bank. You thank her and she starts issuing you another card. Ten minutes your on your way out, smiling and spreading good vibes all over the place. Caught for running a Stop sign on the way back. Fifty dollar ticket and a lecture. You’re two steps away from telling the cop to stuff it when the rational mind who has been on vacation through all of this steps in and tells you to sign the ticket, pay the fine and pickup your groceries. Back at the store the manager checks you out at the courtesy desk. You load the car and drive home. Putting the groceries away you find out you forgot milk, eggs and granola. On the up side you have ice cream, Reese’s Pieces, two bottles of Ezra’s Original Orange soda and a package of pistachio nuts.
Didn’t watch the vice presidential debates. Partially out of fear that I might be lured over to the Dark Side and the reticence to check myself into the ECT suite at the hospital.
A lot of TV shows I’ve watched and kvelled about in replies to blogs passed by the wayside while I channel surfed. Is my brain telling me it’s all eye candy and will cause me to lose brain cells or they’re just not that entertaining?
Support your local food bank. Read to a kid. Visit a senior citizen. Adopt a shelter pet. Be nice to somebody you don’t like. Don’t listen to politicians. Remember to vote. Eat healthy.
See you on Monday. Have an interesting weekend.