Just Rude

I was in a pretty decent mood today, until I went on a quick errand to the grocery store with my wife and youngest child.  The store was chocked full of people buying God-knows-what and clogging all the aisles I needed to go down with their own carts and large asses.

Generally I am a peaceful guy and although I can be opinionated I do my best to not discriminate.  I certainly don’t say things aloud that would offend people who rub me the wrong way (with the grain people!), but have been known to poke fun or say off-color things in private.  Who doesn’t?

Well I kept my opinions to myself again today… well until now I guess, because I am writing it here.  But honestly I don’t think Lance reads this blog and can afford a little room to rant about him.

This is wrong.  I know this is wrong to think this way, and certainly to type it here.  But I consider this my confessional really, and that what we say here doesn’t go beyond this blog.  On the flip side, you never tell me what kind of penance I must suffer, or how evil I am.  Hell actually you likely wont even comment here at all.  Its mostly like when you talk to yourself and can hear an echo… or crickets.  Well I hear the crickets, and their chirps are echoing.  Two birds, one stone, as it were.

So anyway: spit it out dude!

So I’m walking through the store, Safeway, and do my usual “stay-outta-your-space” thing and smiling.  I like to smile and at least give the impression I care that you are having a nice day.

What really irks me however is when I smile, make eye contact, and say “good morning” while the recipient of my well wishing just breaks eye contact keeps walking and is silent.  I hate that.  Like I’m not good enough to well wish you, or I’m trying to pick you up or something.  Please, you’re not even that hot.  Anyway.

I greet Lance, who is eyeballing all the people walking by him, blocking the aisle.

Lance is for lack of a better or more politically correct term, retarded.  My Safeway tends to hire several mentally challenged folks – which I think is admirable and just right to do.  However they tend to put them in the grocery bagging genre of positions.  This in and of itself is still admirable, but I would request that they first have the candidate pass one of those round peg in the square hole tests, first.

“Good morning” I say as I pass by him noticing his mouth is slightly crusted over.  Either he was eating a glazed donut… an hour ago, of his saliva dried up mid-drool… an hour ago.  Lance quickly corrects me: “Actually its kind of afternoon.”  He does this without making direct eye contact, but this is partially because he has this Ray Charles/Stevie Wonder thing going on.

I continued to walk down the main aisle while slowly yet surely my Doug-Anger-Meter started to rise.  I’m in this crowded store, with these other commodity sleuths, trying to make nice and I get corrected… by a retard.  Why?  Why-why-why-why does it always have to be so difficult?

Pleased that I would at least have something to write about today, and knowing that his off-hours likely consisted of licking the glue off of envelopes, I was calm.  My anger was quelled almost as fast when Lance handed my son a sticker at the checkout.  Lance is the Custodian of Stickers and loves children – but dude, squeegee that crap off your chin!

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