Curb Your Enthusiasm

This is my last post until July thirteenth, Dear Readers.  Have a marvelous and safe Fourth of July.

Now see this guy?  Doesn’t he look like he’s got no important place to go and all the time in the world to go there?

That’s cause he does.

And I’m still steamed about it.

Just for the record, let me be clear here.  I am NOT am injustice collector.  You know, a person who deeply believes that the world- and its occupants- are in league to get him.

Like this guy.

Au contraire.  I am, in the main, a cock-eyed optimist who thinks the world is her oyster.  (If not a natural pearl necklace from Tiffany’s.)

That why it pains me to report two recent unrelated incidents that really fried my clams.

Out of Towner Sidebar: I do feel obliged to confess that both of these incidents happened in a quaint and scenic suburb an hour outside of Chicago.

Let’s call it Pleasantville, shall we?

Let’s start with the guy sitting on the bench.  I first encountered him at the local train station.  It was an early Monday morning and I needed to buy a ticket and head in to work. I had given myself plenty of time, and in Pleasantville, it really doesn’t matter.  The ticket line is never more than two or three people at most.

Today I was in the Number Three slot.

The guy in the photo was Number One and he was casually chatting to the ticket seller.

She was casually chatting back to him.

OMG.

This chit chat went on for seven minutes.  Like there was nobody else in line.  Like nobody had any place to be or you know, a train to catch.

This folksy little back and forth chatter between this guy and the ticket clerk went on for what seemed like forever.  I made harrumphing noises and cleared my throat and tapped my foot, but the universal signal for “Hey! Let’s get a move on!” went unnoticed by these two yokels.

FINALLY, he moved on.

To the bench in the photograph.  He didn’t have to catch that train.  Clearly.

How thoughtless, I fumed.  Just because he’s not in a hurry, why inconvenience poor bastards like me who actually have to show up on time?

The rudeness and general clueless-ness of that behavior annoyed me.

That is until last week.

I was in Menard’s buying candy.

Yes, that’s right. Candy.

ICYMI, Menard’s is my suburban go-to for the candy I love.  Every box is ONE dollar.

So I had a few minutes last week and I ran in for a couple of boxes of Good & Plentys.  I was the second in line waiting to check out.

There was a guy and his little boy- around eight I think- and they were being checked out. And there was one man holding a big piece of pipe in front of me.

The clerk was having trouble with the guy’s transaction.  He kept running something that looked like a little torn piece of paper through the register.  Then he’d wait a minute and then frantically key in about twenty strokes.  The he’d scratch his head and do it all over again.

And again.

This went on at least five times and the man in front of me with the pipe was getting disgusted.

Finally the clerk called over a manager and he started doing the same drill.

He ran this little torn piece of paper through the register and then hit a lot of keys.

After five more minutes of this, the guy with the piping gave up.

“This is ridiculous,” he muttered as he angrily strode off in search of another line.

I heartily agreed but I was curious.  How big and important this transaction must be? I thought.  It’s taking fifteen minutes AND pissing off the entire store.

After a dozen more tries, the manager hit pay dirt.

“That does it, ” he happily announced and turned the register back over to the clerk.

The clerk read the display and triumphantly said to the guy with the kid, “That will be thirty-six cents, please.”

I gaped in disbelief as that thoughtless moron handed over a ONE DOLLAR BILL and waited for his change.

Think about this.  He had inconvenienced many people for less than a dollar.

I can watch the pennies with the best of them if necessary but come on!

Would you do this for a refund of sixty-four cents?

I felt like punching that jerk but I punked out.

Just like this guy.