Confession #1: I have embarrassingly crude thoughts about fellow shoppers at grocery stores. I have yet to find a grocery store to shop at that has aisles big enough. Big enough for what, you ask? Big enough for everything, I say. I think mostly it's that I just don't get why, in a world consisting of a billion people, 999 million of them don't seem to understand that (1) when parking a cart in an aisle to make food purchase decisions, a cart should (a) not be parked smack dab in the middle of the aisle or (b) parked horizontally at the end of an aisle, as both choices not only completely trap one's fellow shoppers in an aisle, both choices also cause an elevation in blood pressure of certain fellow shoppers (ie, me), causing her to imagine taking a cart blocking her way and slamming it repeatedly into, say, some egg cartons, thereby officially losing her mind and possibly getting arrested. Most definitely getting strange, horrified stares. At the grocery store. Usually in the cereal and canned foods aisles, but often in the dairy section. Because her fellow grocery store shoppers seem to be completely unaware of the fact they are not the only ones who are trying to buy food and exist in the world.
The other grocery store pissed off confession I have is having to wait for a fellow shopper standing, sometimes for a full 10 minutes, in front of the very area I also need to grab something from, and having to wait for them to make a decision and watching them do so in a most oblivious manner. If I had to think hard for 10 minutes, or even had 10 minutes just to stand and wait patiently for their thinking processes to reach conclusion, this would only be a minor irritation. But this is not the case. I want to grab their shoulders, shake them, and scream into their faces: "YOU ARE NOT THE ONLY ONE!! YOU ARE NOT THE ONLY ONE!!" And then run away, leaving them shocked, confused, and (most likely) still oblivious. Most often in the produce section, but sometimes in the frozen food area.
Confession #2: About 6 weeks ago, I totally lost my mind at my local Target. I've been shopping at this Target for going on a decade now, with nary a single emotionally crazy peep. But 6 weeks ago, I'd had a really frickin' long day at work, was dealing with an outrageous amount of hormones, and on top of all that was generally in a big hurry. I'd plopped Melissa in the back of the cart (not properly seat belted and not in the proper front seat not like the properly behaved angel the Target employee I'm about to tell you about apparently demands all strange children who are none of her business be) and was swinging through (in a general, hormonal hurry) to get what I needed from the office product section.
Target Employee with a Terrific Need to Condemn and Control sees us, and says in a haughty tone of voice: "You better put that baby in the front seat like you're supposed to. She needs to be sitting down." I looked at her long and hard and said, "Excuse me?" And she repeated what she'd said again, this time in (what was clearly) a nastier tone of voice. And so I looked at her even longer and harder and then said slowly (because I was so enraged I couldn't even see straight and was convinced if a brick happened to be nearby I would throw it at her head), "Ooookaaaay. Well. She's not a baby and I think I can manage my own child." And then I stomped off. Target didn't have what I needed anyway. What kind of a stupid Target was this?? With their rude, control-y employees and not having what a person needs anyway.
So I was furious and in a bad mood for the rest of my time in Target. And at check out, I think I scared the quiet, sweet cashier wearing a headscarf when I abruptly asked to speak to a manager. And when the manager came, I told her what had happened, apologized by saying I never do stuff like huffily demand to speak to managers, but I'd had a really long day and what was said and the tone it was said in was an incredibly inappropriate way to speak to a customer and I'd like to know that the manager was going to let the employee know that. And then before she could even lay out her action plan for me, I burst into tears and left.
Here's the confession part: I avoided going back to that Target for 4 weeks straight and when I did go back (on a Wednesday, around 5 pm-ish), and ran into both the nasty employee and the manager I'd had a psychotic melt down on? I glared at both of those chicks in a very "You think you want a piece of this?? Bring it." kind of way. And now I only go to that Target if it's the weekend and/or before 4 pm. And every time Melissa is with me now, I put her in the front seat and tell her she has to sit there in case we run into the "mean lady" again. Which means now I'm passing on my hormonal imbalance-y thinking to my daughter, and when she's in talk therapy years later as an adult, she'll spend so much time working out her strange, irrational fear and belief that female Target employees are all "mean ladies."
But mostly, every time I sit her in the front seat and buckle her in, I feel like I'm letting the mean Target lady win. And this is Christmastime, when mean Target ladies should not be allowed to win.
Which is precisely why I've decided the next time I have to go to that Target, I'll go (a) at 5 pm on a weekday and (b) let Melissa ride in the back of the cart, standing up, possibly holding a sign that says "You think you want a piece of this?? Bring it."
Confession #3: I've also started frequenting (please make sure you're sitting down before continuing)........................... Wal-Mart. Anyone who knows me well should be sitting with a really stunned look on their face after reading that, because historically I'm very anti-Wal-Mart. I'm not convinced they treat all of their employees fairly, and also the aisles are too narrow (see confession #1). And the other customers freak me out occasionally. I will note, though, I haven't run into one inappropriately condescending employee. And they have an organic section. Who knew?!
Confession #4: This has nothing to do with shopping, and I tagged it on at the end in the hopes you'd get bored and stop reading before hitting Confession #4. Confession #4 is that not only have I read all of the Twilight books, I have consistently taken myself (alone, in secret, hidden in the dark recesses of my skeletons' closet) to see each Twilight movie as they come out.
I read the first book while on bed rest and pregnant. It was horribly written, but I could tell: if I was a teenage girl with angst and social acceptance issues (ie, if I were 14 all over again), I would be on these sparkly vampire people who don't hurt people like white on rice. And then I read the 2nd book, which was written even worse than the 1st. But I couldn't stop. I had to know what happened next! Each book, in succession, was plotted, conceived, and written worse than the last.
But that's not the worst part of it all. Liking poorly written, gushy romance novels about vampires is one thing. Liking poorly written, gushy vampire romance novels involving helpless heroines is something else. I feel about myself like I feel about my child loving pink and Disney princesses: Oh, Amy. No no no. Where did I fail you?? (Bella, the female protagonist, spends every book pining for a boy and begging for rescue). I feel like someone who accidentally changed the tv channel and landed on a perverse reality show (that is so obviously scripted and simply put there to control and then destroy the very soul of America) but after 15 minutes has to keep watching because now I've invested 15 minutes of my time and have to see what happens at the end. Even if the end is sort of like, "That's it?"
Confession #5: I go see the movies because (a) the quality is always questionable, but (b) I still really want to see the books put into action, and (c) I'm on Team Edward. Because he has really red lips and nice amber eyes (after slurping down deer blood, of course) and sparkly skin and when he's not in the Twilight movies he has a British accent and I love those. I was a high school freshman when the actor who plays Edward was born and so it's just incredibly inappropriate but not really, since Edward is technically 110 years old or something. Imagination and reality get blurry for me when Twilight is involved.
Not to mention very weird, since I'll be a 40 year old woman on my next birthday with a lot on her plate to worry about right now: a new job, maintaining a household, raising an independent girl who hopefully will trend toward Harry Potter rather than glittery vampires...which may be precisely why I'm drawn toward being rescued by the undead. As long as they sparkle and won't munch on me (at least not in ways I don't like), it's a release from the day to day reality of crazy.
I think a lot of the people in the audience with me on Tuesday morning I went to see Breaking Dawn are in this for similar reasons. There were 10 other people in the theater with me and the audience make up looked like this: 4 ladies in their 40-50's, 4 teenagers, 1 lone man who looked like he was in his 70's, and a couple (I suspect the husband was dragged there) in their 60's. And me. Dressed head to toe in black, like I was channeling a stealth ninja. A stealth ninja weakened by an irrational love for imaginary spangly vampires to rescue her, completely forgetting that, yo, she's a frickin' ninja. A stealth ninja.
Confession #6 (another non-shopping confession): I think only about 6 people regularly read this blog (hi Michele, hi Mom!), so I'm feeling fairly good about this Twilight secret staying securely in the back of my closet. (I also think it's pretty telling that I'm more comfortable with many in the general public knowing about my irrational rage thoughts toward other shoppers in grocery stores and outlandish emotional breakdowns in Target than admitting--out loud--that I'm on, you know, Team Edward.) (Although Team Jacob can be fairly stunning in his shirtless moments.) (No no! I can't, mustn't, betray Edward!)
I'll be so glad when they release Breaking Dawn part 2 and I can shove this Twilight nonsense into my basement, right next to my Hello Kitty collection.
YOU ARE NOT THE ONLY ONE! --Yes! I would like to borrow this. I confess that I am horribly judgmental about the food people buy at grocery stores. This is why when Chris asks me to pick up one of his horrible culinary habits (like Swiss Cake Rolls and Doritos) I always feel really really self-conscious and embarrassed, and I try to hide the offending product behind other things in the cart.
ReplyDeleteI think you handled the mean Target lady with class, and I'm sure you had a pretty cry. Like a heroine in a movie.
Twilight! HAHAHAHAHA. This is awesome. Because I just watched the first 3 of the movies a few weeks ago. I've never read the books and had never watched the movies--had always rolled my eyes at the hoopla. Then I saw the 1st one was on TV, so I watched it, and I thought, "What a horrible movie. What a ridiculous storyline. OMG this whole thing was just embarrassingly awful." And then… a couple of days later… I found myself googling Taylor Lautner, feeling really inappropriate about it. Is he even 18 yet? Why do they have him running around with his shirt off if he's underage? That's entrapment for women of my age. And when a Twilight marathon was on TV, I watched the next 2. And I had all the same thoughts (about horrible, ridiculous, awful) while simultaneously thinking, "I'm totally Team Jacob. Wolves are way sexier than vampires." I may or may not go to Breaking Dawn Part I, but if I do, I'm sure I will adopt your stealth ninja style.