Showdown

The following story does not cast Yours Truly in a flattering light. Turns out I'm quite flawed (as flawed as the day is long, in fact), and yesterday was a case in point. I would like to begin by saying that I try to be a nice person. Sometimes I fail miserably, but then again, sometimes I do okay. For example: I was loading my groceries into the car in the Walmart parking lot the other day when a little wisp of a woman called out to me, a perfect stranger, for help. Turns out she'd purchased forty pounds of wild bird seed, but couldn't heft it out of the cart and into the backseat under her own power. So I stepped up. She offered to help me lift it, and when I yanked it out of that cart without so much as batting an eye, she said, "Oh my, that's so heavy; you're quite strong!" Actually I'm not, but she thought I was, and that's all that counts. So I heaved it onto the backseat, and asked, "Now, do you have someone at home who will help you get this out of the car?" Folks, I was poised to offer assistance in the unloading of the wild bird seed if needed, but she assured me she did indeed have someone waiting to help her. I only hope they were as strong as I... The point of this little tale is not to glorify my kindness or bulging muscles, but to highlight the fact that I'm happy to go out of my way to help others. Most of the time. But yesterday? Not so much.

At the start of this story, I'm going to stop all you would-be nasty commentators with this one statement: I'm sure they are plenty of folks cruising around in motorized carts who are perfectly pleasant and polite. There. I'm not going to say that everyone who operates a Little Rascal is rude. I am going to say that every person I've encountered cruising the aisles of the local Walmart in one is. Let the nasty comments begin!

Let's just recap yesterday afternoon, shall we? I picked up WyoBaby from school and told her we had to make a quick dash into Wally World for just one or two things. We did swing by Starbucks on the way, because she needed sustenance in the form of bacon and gouda, and I needed caffeine.

I found an excellent parking spot, so I whipped the little PT Cruiser in, and we hopped out, ready to make the mad dash through Walmart. One of the items on my list was Epsom Salts, because I had a hangnail which got a little infected, and needed a soak in said salts. (Too much info, right?) Anywho, the Epsom Salts are located in the 'fiber aisle', so I stopped to look at all my choices. Let's face it, fiber is a good thing to have in your diet, and I was running low, so I decided to pick up some more. I had WyoBaby park the cart at the end of the aisle so I wouldn't be blocking traffic while I perused. As I read all the various labels, and tried to sort out which would be the best choice for getting things in my life movin' and groovin', I heard the faint sound of a motorized cart. I really wasn't paying attention, and after a minute or so, the noise stopped, so I figured the cart had moved on. Until I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and a pair of eyes boring holes into the back of my head. As I turned to find the owner of those eyeballs, I swear I could hear The Good, The Bad and The Ugly playing in the background. This guy had parked his cart across the opening of the aisle, creating a barricade. I was trapped. And he was shooting me all sorts of crusty glares. I was not blocking the aisle, people! I was tucked up against one of the shelves, reading labels. But this guy was staring me down as if I'd killed his first born child! So I said, "Oh, I'm sorry, am I in your way?" And I meant it! I try to be cognizant of the aisle space I occupy, so I don't get in peoples' way. To which he replied, "Oh no, that's fine, don't you worry. I've got all the time in the world." Only the way he said it didn't sound so nice. "I'm sorry sir, but all you needed to say was, 'Excuse me Miss (not Ma'am), can I get through?' and I would've moved!" "Well, I was just waiting for you to finish, because I didn't want to just whip in there and run you over!" It was the sarcasm dripping from his every syllable which made me think he didn't give a rat's patootie about my safety, and wouldn't have thought twice about running me over, backing up, and running me over again, if it weren't for all those pesky witnesses. I became so flustered I grabbed the first box I saw, threw it in my cart, and scrambled to get out of his way. And you know what? He motored his little cart into that aisle, and didn't even stop! He reached the end and turned the corner! He wasn't even after anything in that aisle!! Well y'all, I snapped. Like a twig. On a tree. In the Sahara. In the middle of thirty-year drought. I turned to the woman next to me, who had witnessed the whole ugly incident and said, "Well! Apparently, driving one of those little carts gives you the right to be rude!!" When my friend Tammy reaches this point in the story, she's going to send me a text, telling me I need to talk to Jesus. And she's right. But in the heat of battle, I lost it. I don't usually do things like that. But not only did I say it, I said it loud enough for that rude little man to hear three aisles away! And this lady, bless her heart, said, "Yep, apparently it does!" Thank goodness she agreed with me, because I was so fired up at this point, I wouldn't have thought twice about ripping into her too. I told you I'm flawed. I try very hard to keep my temper under control. But yes, I yell at other drivers (from the safety of my car), and keep up a running commentary on the lack of driving skills demonstrated on the road. I lose my patience. Does that make it right? Heck no! Was I setting a good example for my girl? Heck no! Did I explain, hours later, when the steam had stopped rolling off my head, that my response was not appropriate? Yes. And did I shoot him a nasty glare when we met up again, on the other side of the store? Yes. (Still flawed. Just in case you'd forgotten.)

There you have it. My showdown in the laxative aisle in Walmart. Epic, right? This was not a proud moment for me. But I wanted to share it with you, as a way of reminding myself to behave better next time. And to warn you about motorized carts. Alright Tammy, I'm done!! I'll be nice; I'll talk to Jesus! I will remind myself that next time a rude little man throws down the gauntlet, I need to step around it and move on, rather than grabbing it up and throwing it right back in his face. I'll smile sweetly and say, "I'd be happy to move out of your way!" That' what I'm shooting for anyway...