Author: the outside lane

Maaaaybe once a year I really lose my temper with a stranger.  Usually, it has to do with traffic.  I think the last time I lost my mind with someone, it was in a parking lot about a year and a half ago.  It was before we moved anyway.  Well, I lost it again tonight.  Big time.  In front of masses.

Thor and I went to Ross to find new drinking glasses, a gift for Pokeno night, and I ended up with a few extras (I finally found navy blue suit pieces!  yay!) I had a basket full by the time I got to the register.  I stood in line for a while, then a new register opened, and since I was next, they called me over.  I started that way, and a scrawny white woman came scrambling behind me, already griping about how slow the cashiers were.

Leaving aside the fact that Ross isn’t Barney’s New York, and you aren’t ever going to get 5 Star service there, the elderly woman who was working the first register was clearly moving at her top speed, and the little girl who opened her register line was also working at a steady pace.  Crazy behind me sneers to the girl, “You’re going to move faster than that one, aren’t you?  You can go faster than that, right?”  And she nods at the elderly clerk and SNIFFS.  My clerk smiled uncomfortably and kept moving through my items.

Crazy starts huffing and puffing, and muttering about speed, then she yelps, “You’re making my life hell!  You’re so slow!”

Mind, the girl was working through my basket.  The girl was doing her best to avoid eye contact and keep going, while the nutjob kept blurting out inappropriate comments about how slow and lazy all these kinds of workers were…???…and I was quickly losing my cool.

Finally, the clerk was on my last two items and Crazy howls, loud enough for others to turn and look, “Did you think I was kidding when I told you to hurry?!  Did you think I wasn’t serious when I told you I needed you to move fast?”

And that did it.  I’ve worked in retail and customer service my entire life.  With the exception of a 9 month stint in a bank basement doing research and recovery, my entire career has had one thing in common:  Dealing with people, and satisfying the internal/external/adjunct customer.  Blew. My. Stack.  It went like this:

Me:  Uh…Sweetie (and lord–if you know me, you know that Sweetie coming out of my mouth is like c-ntrag coming out of Irene’s) this girl is trying to work here.  A little less from you, please?

Her:  She’s slow!  I’m in a hurry, and she’s moving like a turtle!  A TURTLE!  She is making my life hell.

Me:  She is working, and I don’t think she’s your problem.  Leave it be.

Her:  They are my problem!  I’m in a hurry and–

Me:  Lady, I’m sorry that my shopping has inconvenienced you, but that’s life.  Now leave the girl alone and let her work.

Her:  YOU haven’t inconvenienced me.  THEY have!  And I hate coming here they make my life hell!

Me:  Then don’t come back.  I don’t think they’d miss you.  (and then I bellowed) NOW LAY OOOOOOOOFF!

This is when I realized I had caused quite a scene by raising my voice on the word “Lady,” and that the other clerks had paused and were watching us, too.

Her:  *blink blink*  I’ll lay off because you told me to, but not beca–

Me:  *hand up*  Thank you.

And the clerk finished my transaction, looked up with tears in her eyes and said, “Thank you for that.”

The Crazy didn’t say another word.  I hope she was ashamed of herself.  I hope she never goes into that store again for fear of running into that clerk.  I hope she is afraid to shop at Ross for the rest of her life.

The world is coming alive in our neighborhood.  The walk to school this morning was like the beginning of a Disney film.  Birds chirping and swooping down out of trees to whoosh up into others as we passed by, ducks quacking happily at each other, squirrels chasing one another around tree trunks and pausing to stare at us, everything in bloom (including my allergies) and beautiful.  And, even though Nature is trying to murder me by sneezing fits, I have come to love Spring best of all the seasons.

I used to like Fall best.  Crisp and red-gold, I loved the autumn air and the progression into winter as everything shed down to its survival minimum.  I think if I were still in Virginia, I would love Fall best.  Texas isn’t so pretty in October, you know.  But springtime?  At least where we live, in a very watered area, everything bursts open in color.

No, it isn’t actually Spring yet, and we are still facing March.  March can mean nasty ice for us, but at least this week it looks and feels like Spring, and the wildlife is enjoying it enough.

Plans!  Mice!  Men!  NOOOOOW!

Translated from the language I found myself speaking this morning, that is, “The best laid [plans] of mice and men often go awry.”

Mornings are difficult in my house.  Probably so in the house of everyone with children.  Thor is a normal child, so he is a dawdler, daydreamer, and slowpoke.  Thinking back, though I cannot remember thinking myself slow (only careful and curious), I remember very, very well my mother’s frustration with me every morning.  I am sorry that Thor will have similar memories.  I am glad that I have not succumbed to the temptation to box his ears, or chase him out the door with the backside of a hairbrush.

This morning, after he had pushed the putting on of socks past the five minute mark (he had his hand in one sock and was talking to it like a puppet, sidetracked from his purpose) I completely forgot that I had resolved to stop bellowing.  Since he was not responding to my, “Thor, get your socks on.  Put your socks on now,” I fell into an apoplectic speech pattern recognized by parents all over the world.  It happens at that point that your head pops off your neck like a cartoon train whistle and steam blows out of your ears.  It’s like Cliff’s Notes for talking to a child.

“Put your socks on now,” becomes, “Socks!  On!  Now!!!”

Who needs verbs?  Articles?  Pronouns?  Not elementary school children, that’s for sure.

I think when I am talking to him, he hears, “Put your wamp wamp wamp wamp wamp wamp wamp, Thor!  Wamp wamp wamp, Thor, wamp wamp wamp shoes wamp wamp.”  So, it seems prudent to speak Cavemom and just hit the highlights with urgency, fervency, and that one vein bulging in my temple.

B sniffed at me this morning, that because I had the news on television, Thor was going to be slow.  He was distracted by the tv.  Ha!  I have tried with the house silent.  Then, he just entertains himself.  He talks to his socks–he makes a puppet and talks to the sock puppet.  Or, he checks out his feet. Hey! Toenails!  Or he is a spy and his shoes might have explosives in them, so he has to put them on very, very slowly in order to avoid triggering the devices (yes, he’s watched too much Chuck.)  Or he stares at the ceiling.  Or, when he should be brushing his teeth, he stares at his own reflection making faces instead.  When he is eating his cereal, he’ll eat a couple of bites, drift off into daydream and forget he’s eating, and sit there with his spoon lifted, eyes in middle distance, smiling as he ninja battles Autobots, or whatever it is he is doing in that head.  The boy just has better things to do, and does not understand the urgent need to put on clothes he’d rather not wear, to go to a place he’d just as soon not go.  What’s the rush?  Procrastination is strong in this one.

According to his grandparents, this is absolutely genetic–and a double dose of it, no less.

I’m going to have to figure out a way around this, though, because I don’t see it getting better in the teen years, do you?  Maybe a cattle prod?

I think it is not enough to dance like no one is watching.  I think we have to dance like no one is laughing.  Because, isn’t that what we’re afraid of?  We’re not afraid someone might see us doing something.  We’re afraid someone might see us doing something and judge us harshly for it.

Growing up, I had always wanted to be a cheerleader, but I never had the nerve to try out.  I’m still fairly certain I would never have made a squad given a) my inability to shout and wave my arms at the same time, much less do backflips and leap from the tops of pyramids, and b) my solidly c-list school standing (and that only because I was in the AP classes with the A and B list kids), but I’ll never know because I didn’t try.  I was afraid of being laughed at, so I pretended I thought cheerleading was stupid.  Cheerleaders of the world:  I think you are so awesome and would have given my eye teeth to wear your cute little uniforms.  Dentures are easier to get than onto a cheerleading squad.

In college, I decided I was finished with being afraid of other people’s laughter, and I signed up for cheerleading tryouts.  Now, you  have to remember that my best sport is swimming, and the fact that I am coordinated enough to do that is surprising.  I filled out the application form, i.e. lied through my teeth, saying I’d had plenty of cheerleading experience (you needed 4 years in order to try out) and might have even forged myself a letter of recommendation.  She’s got spirit, yes she do!

Clearly, you need more than spirit.  I did not make the squad, which is a gross understatement. 4 squad positions were open, with 1 alternate position.  5 girls tried out.  They eliminated the alternate position because I was so bad they couldn’t even let me sit sideline.  But I walked away incredibly proud of myself for trying, and am still glad to have had the experience.  Although, in retrospect I feel like I owe all those people an apology.  At least I helped them find the flaws  in their application process.

I’m fairly bold when it comes to new experiences, but I shy away from things that could be very embarrassing.  Things like singing the National Anthem as a solo.  I’ve always, always, always wanted to be the person singing the anthem before a ball game, but have never had the guts to try out.  That’s a hard song to sing, and I’m not Whitney Houston.  The potential for embarrassment with that one is exponential.

Yesterday, I saw that Lone Star Park was auditioning for National Anthem singers for the 2012 Thoroughbred Season.  I called them.  I asked for an audition.  I went out and sang like no one was laughing.

I’ll know in 3 or 4 weeks whether or not I was good enough to perform at one of the 50-some-odd races this season.  I already know I was representing the land of the free and the home of the brave, just getting my tuckus out there in front of a crowd of strangers, with a half second delay on the audio (I kept slowing down to let the nice lady finish the line she had just sung…ha!) and hands shaking so badly I thought I might lose a ring.

So that’s one off my bucket list, and something I can tell the grandkids.

(Y’all, I think I sounded pretty good.  At least, the delay sounded good to me.)

It’s a Federal Holiday, so I am off work.  That is, I have a day off from my paying job.  Today I am catching up on other important things, like cleaning out the car, cleaning the kitchen and living room, and soon I’ll be helping my mother choose some health insurance.

Thor accidentally got a day off from school.  I just assumed he was out since I was, and didn’t bother getting him up to go this morning.  As it turns out…  That’s all right.  He’s just spent an hour listening to NPR and learning (and asking excellent questions) about political campaigns and campaign ads.  He’s not going to get that in class, so one missed day is no big deal.

We got up early (on a day off, early is 8am) so we could get to the car wash/detail shop before the rush I expected after all the nasty weather we’ve had, only to find it closed.  I wanted to get the interior done because I’m driving people this week, and there is no need for anyone but you to know about my recent French Fry explosion.  The detail shop charges out the wazzoo to do the interior, but some things are worth walking a little funny.  Still, closed.

So, Thor and I headed to the do-it-yourself car wash and did it ourselves.  $3 later, we have a shiny, clean, buffed interior.  I was especially impressed with the ArmorAll Multi-Purpose Cleaning Sponge that I got out of the vending machine for $1.

One sponge got my entire interior, and my dash is looking really good now.  $1 on the vacuum got my whole car, trunk space included.  That single dollar put 5 minutes on the clock.  The last dollar was for a lint free towel, also out of the vending machine, and I used it to wipe down the interior again, and get the bits that I didn’t want to ArmorAll.

I did have a moment of confusion when I went to vend.  The vending center looks like this:

You put your money into the tiny rectangle in the center, and lights corresponding to the products available for the amount of money you put in start to blink.  You press your preferred button, and your product drops out of the larger rectangle corresponding to your choice.  Yes, the station attendant did come over and explain it to me, after watching me stare and pace for a little while.  In my defense, there were no instructions.  I mean, I could see where to put in my money, but I couldn’t figure out how my product was going to come out of that tiny rectangle.  It isn’t easily visible that the product will fall from the larger rectangle.

To recap:  $3 do-it-myself=really good looking car interior.

Still, nothing is going to help all the juice stains across the back seat.  Once upon a time, I had a toddler and a very long commute.  Who sells bench seat covers for baby-ruined backseats?

In other news…

I was invited to a Ladies’ Pokeno and Potluck party last week and had a really nice time.  I also had a really embarrassing time.  I joke about being dyslexic, but I have some real issues.  There are things that are just very difficult for me to do, and numbers are one of those things.  Some shapes give me problems as well.  I’ve been playing cards since I was old enough to hold my own hand, and I’ve have real issues with Spaces and Clubs since then, too.  You stick numbers next to them and…  Oh my lord.

Pokeno is a little like Bingo, but instead of numbers and letters, you have playing cards.  Instead of a caller saying, “B-2”, the caller calls, “Ace of Spades”.  And, instead of calling two or three times so that all the Blue Hairs have time to search out their cards, it is called one time and gone.  It moves fast.  It moves very, very fast.

The way my brain sees things…  Things flip and move.  So that Ace of Hearts I thought was on the right side of the card is actually on the left side of the card.  When I go to put my chip down on the right, the Ace of Hearts has moved, and I have to chase it down.  Takes me a few seconds longer.  Also, that 4 of Spades I thought I saw was actually a 4 of Clubs, but because it was next to a 9 of Spades, the Spade and the Club dance around.  See?  It gets challenging.

I’ve had this issue my whole life, so it is normal to me, and most of the time I can function at normal speed or better.  I’ve learned coping mechanisms and have learned to mask my weaknesses, but games like that just lay me bare.  My vanity doesn’t have a mechanism for that kind of coping.

The ladies I played with were very kind, and a couple of them were even slapping chips down on my card for me, and rather than letting me stumble over suits when it was my turn to call (I could either call or play, but I could not do both at the same time), called my games for me.  It was humbling.  It was also still a lot of fun, and I really enjoyed the company.

I promised to practice my suits if they’d let me play again.  Ha!