Throwdown in Aisle Four!

I was having a day. It was so cold out that when penguins woke up, they checked the thermometer, then went back to bed. Not wanting to mess with gloves, the tips of my fingers had grown white and numb. In the grocery store parking lot, some clown zigged into the parking spot I had been waiting on, cutting me off.

So, of course, I was in the perfect mood to go grocery shopping. Fun!

As I pushed my cart down the salad aisle, some kid was bent over, endlessly stocking and restocking. It was a risk going behind him, because I knew--absolutely KNEW--he'd back into me, but I took the plunge anyway, just wanting to get in and out of there as fast as possible.

"Behind you, behind you, behind you," I muttered to the kid as a warning. A warning he didn't heed.

Sure enough, he straightens and backs into me, knocking me sideways a couple of inches. A little bit indignant, I say "Excuse me."

Stares are exchanged. The silence is interminable. I'm waiting for the inevitable polite exchange of niceties expected in civilized societies. But the kid's got nothing.

But I sure did. I walked a few feet and stopped. 

Oh, hell no, I thought, he's not gonna get away with saying nothing. Whatever happened to the customer's always right and all that rot? Surely the onus should be on Stock Boy #13 to make things right with the customer he'd just assaulted, right? Right???

I turn back around and repeat loudly, "Excuse me!" I wait. More waiting. My blood's boiling up into my face, a red-hot three alarmer.

Annnnnnnd, the kid's still got nothing. He flashes a brief, cocky smile, then drops it. His brow furrows, wondering what this crazy ol' coot wants. Lips quiver.

I help him along a bit. "I said, 'excuse me!' Annnnnnnnd...." I roll my hand out in a Vanna White fashion, hoping to push this kid into some manners. It doesn't take. I go through my routine three more times. "Excuse me! Annnnnnnnnd..." By now, my hand's flapping like I'm trying to take flight.

Finally--FINALLY--the kid mumbles "excuse me." But intoned a question mark at the end of it, like I'm being outrageously insane in trying to bring back courtesy in our broken society.

But it'd have to do. Clearly Tik-Tok doesn't teach manners. I go racing through the store, talking madly to myself, an insane old guy with a grocery cart, itching to kill. I whip down the meat counter, grab some pork chops and harshly pitch them in the cart. I blast down the canned vegetable aisle, daggers of angry eyes ready to pounce on the next rude stock boy. Flying through the soda lane, I notice they still haven't restocked the Fresca (Stupid store! Dumb-ass, lazy stock boys have no manners and can't even restock the Fresca, for God's sake! What's this world coming to???).

By the time I zipped past the dairy goods, I start thinking... Wait a minute... Am I being a jack-ass? Am I making a bigger deal outta this than I should? Am I contributing to the downfall of our country? Like Trump?

I tear past the health food section (as I always do, because who needs healthy food, right?) and begin to circle back to the poor, abused stock boy.

There he is, still stocking and restocking the salads. Same position, same oblivious back to the world.

"Excuse me," I say again, coming full circle, with a lot less indignation and anger.

He turns around. Once more, he he pastes on that smarmy, half-amused grin. But no, I won't give in to my inner Karen, not gonna Hulk out. Not this time.

"Hey, sorry that I was a jerk a little while ago. I've been having a day," I say.

"Oh. Well, I'm sorry if I did something to offend you." Like he's still clueless, but whatever. Baby steps.

"No, no, you're fine. It was my bad. I just wanted to apologize."

"Okay," he says, still having no idea how he broke our societal contract of mores.

As I headed toward the checkout lane, I felt a little bit better about myself and my relationship with others around me. Perhaps if we all took a minute to just check ourselves, put ourselves into the other person's shoes for a minute, realize that we're not the only ones having a bad day, and that maybe--

"Whaddaya mean, $3.99??? Your stupid sign said these hot dogs were on sale, dammit! I'm not gonna pay $3.99 for hot dogs that aren't even real meat! This is the last time I'm taking my business here! Where's your manager??? This is highway robbery! Why, I never, ever..."

Hey, ho, speaking of people behaving badly, there's a whole mess of bad behavior going on during a terrible winter storm at the Dandy Drop Inn. Why, I'm talking hit men, mobsters, embezzlers, religious zealots, insane angry husbands, crooked cops, and maybe even a serial killer or two. (No rude stock boys, however.) Come on down, check into the Dandy Drop Inn, join the fun, and hope you don't drop dead from the horror of it all. That's Dread and Breakfast, natch. Ask for it by name!