Puke and Pen Drives

I’m not sure what it is about routine, but whenever I have to “get back into my routine” it’s a little like getting slapped in the face…by a cantankerous granny…. with long fingernails….and maybe some brass knuckles.

Just last week the monsoon called the new semester started for me. Perhaps you’re like me. During the holidays you let everything relax, but once work and schedules rear their ugly head you brace yourself to get cold cocked.

So, I was smack dab in the middle of reading course syllabi; arranging babysitters, organizing study times; syncing calendars, planning activities, making shopping lists; creating menus,  praying about volunteer work; managing housework…when my baby got sick. And this wasn’t run of the mill, take a Tylenol and you’ll be fine sick, this was full on Exorcist vomit, sick. 

But in the middle of all the sick I still had to attempt all the other stuff. My hero husband took a day off work (cause he rolls like that) and I tried to catch up.

That’s what brings me to my point of this post. Why is it when we are the most stressed we take our frustrations out on the little guy? The kid bagging the groceries, the post office clerk, the dog…

My little guy turned out to be the cashier woman at Office Depot.

I just needed a pen drive. A small innocuous little device for school, but that little pen drive led me down a path to MONSTER-Ville.

First of all, there was a line, and I don’t do great in lines. I just hate waiting. I wish there was an express lane for everything. So, there I was with a “to do” list longer than Leviticus and I was held up in a line longer than campaign season. As I stood there for a couple of minutes my frustration started to build due to the conversation I overheard.

The line was not the problem; it was all the rigamaroo the cashier had to go through in order to complete a sale. It went a little something like this:

“Can I get your telephone number?”

“And what is your zip?”

“Are you a card member?”

“Would you like to be one”

[she processes the sale]

“Now, if you go online and you enter this number [highlights the number] and you enter my name, “Rosa” [points to her name badge] then you will have a chance to win $10 off on your next purchase.”

Now, normal people in the normal world would say “no” to these things just to politely speed things along, but not the seven blessed people ahead of me.

One older gentleman wanted to have a conversation about why the woman wanted his phone number. And while I agree with his frustration, he really should have taken that 5 minute rant up with the manager; in his office; at the back of the store.

Another woman wanted to know all the pros and cons of having a member card.

Another lady wanted to tell her how many relatives she had with the same name of Rosa.

Another guy wanted to know if he was going to be put on some list if he participated in the online survey. When his cashier didn’t know the answer to that question we all had to wait until someone could verify that the survey was, in fact, anonymous.

By the time I got to the cashier I had my speech all prepared. I was going to walk up to the counter with all the confidence and conviction of a litigator and say,

“No, I don’t want to give you my personal information, and, no, I don’t want anything even if it’s free. I don’t even want a bag. I want you to take my money and give me my purchase as fast as you possibly can.”

I could picture the whole exchange. It would be glorious. People would applaud.

Instead, I answered all 37 questions with a smile hoping that I’d passed my patience test for the day.

I really hope Heaven was watching.