When it comes to social graces, some people completely missed the boat. Were they born without a filter or did something happen to make them that way? I have no answers here, but I do have a story.
A few months ago I was at the grocery store with my daughter and the cashier criticized my parenting. No qualms, no mercy, she flat out tried and convicted me without knowing a thing about me or my daughter. You can read about how enjoyable that was HERE.
Turns out, this was the same cashier who a few years earlier (she’s a lifer at our local grocery store… lucky, lucky us) berated my friend in front of a long line of customers. She made a snap judgement about her parenting (she is a wonderful, loving parent by the way), and called her out for being what she deemed “a negligent parent.”
a) Who do you think you are? b) You had no idea what this mother was dealing with that day. c) Ever heard of customer service? d) If you don’t have any nice to say, zip it. e) Your conveyer belt is always sticky.
Yesterday my sister in law and I popped into the store to pick up a few things. My SIL is gorgeous. Both of my petite blonde sisters in law are beautiful so obviously I attempt to stand as far away from them as possible during all family photos. Anyway, she’s petite and attractive and younger than me. Looks shmooks I know, who cares, but this fact is leading somewhere.
As I tried to pay for the groceries, my SIL threw her credit card into the mix. I refused it. She persisted. I slapped it out of her hands. She pulled my hair. Then we fell into a vat of Jello and wrestled it out.
(Okay, it didn’t happen exactly like this but to my husband I say, “You’re welcome for the mental image.”)
In truth, we did squabble over the credit card and as we negotiated the payment the cashier butted in with a helpful, “Too late. I already took her card. I’m not getting in the middle of a mother daughter fight.”
Um, which one of us is the mother in this scenario???
Yes, I am nine years older than my sibling in law, but really? This makes me her mom?
In her defence, my under eye circles (thank you seasonal allergies) were substantial. But it wasn’t like I was wearing mom jeans (never, ever, ever…) or sporting a pastel coloured sweater set or smart pant suit. I’m forty-seven not seventy-seven thank you very much.
Instead of feeling insulted, I laughed out loud. This was “classic Uncouth Cashier Lady.”
I didn’t pout or feel bad about myself (much), but I did ground my “daughter” for disobeying me and we giggled—the way mothers and daughters do.
We made it out of her line relatively unscathed, but I felt concern for the innocent people in line behind us. We had melty things in our grocery bags so I couldn’t stay behind to warn them—the woman with the very short hair cut who UCL (Uncouth Cashier Lady) would likely refer to as “Sir,” the dad with the crying baby who UCL would probably call a dead beat dad, and the larger woman who UCL would certainly ask if she was expecting twins.
Those poor saps were on their own.
Will I line up in her checkout lane again next time? Totally. Bring it on UCL! I’m ready for you now.