How Did I Get Here, And Where Is The Next Turn?

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Brought up Feb 25, 2013

Is It Just Me?

There is a reason I do not like going to Wally World in the middle of the day, or the afternoon, or the weekend. Quite simply. I do not deal well with a lot of people. The worst are those uncontrolled snots under the age of 10. Well, actually, I blame the parents for not teaching them how to behave.

Now, my kids are not angels, and never have been. I've had my share of episodes of tantrums in stores, and such. However, I have taught them a few manners. They learned quickly that mom would walk off, leave the cart if necessary, and take their tails to the car if they act up.

Anyway, today, my boy brat, now a bit older, wiser, taller, stronger, and, for the past two months, kinder and sweeter, asked me to go with him to WM. I had to go anyway. After his business was concluded, well not, but when my presence was no longer needed, I pushed my cart off to pick up what I needed. At the last minute, I decided I wanted some chips like the ones the BFF and I had on our trip to the Gulf. These I am munching on as I write are called Exotic Vegetable Chips. They take some getting used to, but I have grown to love them. Anyway, in the isle was a young woman about my son's age, with 4, count them, F-O-U-R kids, all looking alike, and between maybe one year old, and eight, maybe younger. The two oldest were wrestling on the floor. The smallest was in the cart seat, and the next, about maybe 3 from the size, was standing at the cart handle. I smiled, what I thought was sympathetically, to the young woman, who was halfheartedly telling the two wrestling, "What are you doing?'" as she continued to shop. I avoided a foot as I went by, walked down to the other end of the isle, my mind on getting the damned chips and getting out. It was crowded, but I was fine.

As I reached for my chips, turned facing the shelf, something plowed into me, hitting my ankle. It f ing hurt! Right on the bone. I turned to see what was going on, though I figured it was the mom, distracted and just didn't see me. The two were still rolling on the floor. The mother was not pushing the cart. All I could see was the top of the kid's head bobbing past the baby's leg. I guess my look of pain was misinterpreted. The young woman said, "You don't have to get hateful. Their just kids." I looked at her, and as I turned to my cart, I said, "I know. I have two of my own. Only, mine were raised to apologize when they hit someone accidentally." She shot me a nasty look. No, I didn't blame the kid. I blamed her.

My ankle throbbing, I broke out in a sweat, my face burning, as I pushed my cart to check out. I had exactly 5 items, and headed for the 20 items or less registers. I've decided no one knows how to count in this town, or read. The woman. at the register, two carts ahead, no way she only had 20 items. It was the shortest line, though. I paid as quickly as possible. The young woman and her herd of snots was two registers down from me, the two older ones still acting like they were warming up for the WWF or something. I had to get out before I really said something to her. I did say to the cashier that people really need to teach their kids how to act in public, glancing over at the one shooting daggers at me. She grinned, and said, "I know," also glancing over.

It was nice and cool outside as I walked to my car as quickly as I could. When I started it up, the radio was a little loud, but I turned it up a bit more. Metallica blasting 'Sandman,' one of my favorites. Definitely what I needed after WM, on a Sunday afternoon...

Am I just turning into one of THOSE old ladies? Nah, they wouldn't be blasting Metallica. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CD-E-LDc384

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wee woman » 5 years ago

should have blasted some "old lady" AC/DC ... Hell's Bells would have been appropriate......