|When I am old, will I be more patient with old people?
||[Jul. 6th, 2007|08:56 am]
|||||Jeff Buckley, Grace||]|
I try. I try really hard. Granted, patience is not my virtue of choice. (Unless I can turn it into some kind of grim endurance contest, as often happens in retail mgmt: I will explain this simple task over and over and over again until they either "get it" or quit, either way I win.)
So I stand there, behind the old lady at Whole Foods, who's got her shopping cart parked right in front of the bread section. She's standing right in front of the Mestermacher bread, which is the only thing I'm actually in the store for. And she's perusing some other whole wheat loaf...taking one out, examining it, putting it back, pulling out another one, identical brand, examining that one, moving on.
I try to duck in and grab my bread, but she's carefully cordoned off the area with the cart and she's a bit wobbly and keeps reaching out to grab onto the car for balance, so strategy #1: move the damn cart out of the way is a no go.
And I remind myself to be patient. What's a couple of minutes? (Doing a mental body slam on the screaming spoiled inner brat in me that is pretty sure that I don't have a couple of minutes to spare.) Some day (sooner than it used to be) I too, will be wobbly and need more time. I already have issues reading the labels. Although my inner brat is pretty sure I won't be completely oblivious to the rest of the world's need to get sh** done. So I wait. Five loaves of bread she's now taken out (my inner retail manager cringing that five loaves of sliced bread have now been clutched in the middle, compressed and put back.) and put back. They are all identical. I realize that the pressure to be patient and polite is now being equally matched by inner brat who is desperate to scream "What the hell are you looking for? The fountain of youth has not been concealed in a loaf of whole wheat bread at Whole Foods! For heaven's sakes, your taste buds are shot anyway, just take one. Any one!"
I really do NOT want to cause a scene. Part of me is actually curious now (the inner anthropologist, hey, it's very crowded in my head)...so I finally go with "Excuse me, can I just duck in here..." grab my 6 loaves of M-bread and go. Pointedly not examining a single one. She was still standing there when I left.
For all I know, she's still standing there.