Sunday, February 28, 2016

It's a Good Thing This Isn't Sutter's Mill in 1849

Val's got her dander up again! I know, right? She's so even-keeled, that's kinda hard to believe. But wait until you get a load of THIS!

Yesterday, I stopped by the Voice of the Village, which has been under new management for a couple of years, and it actually an Orb K now, a totally different franchise. Once they stopped having their bargain 44 oz Diet Cokes, and their fountains no longer flowed with Hi C Pink Lemonade, I forsook them completely for the gas station chicken store. But I was feeling lucky yesterday, and popped in for some scratch-off tickets. Not so lucky as I felt, it turned out, what with only $15 in winnings on a $20 outlay. But that's not the story. That doesn't get my dander up. That's just water under the Throw Your Money Away Bridge.

So...I walked in and saw that only the register on the RIGHT side of the counter was open, the LEFT side having a little sign that said, "Next register, please." Okay. People need to take a pee break or a smoke break or scarf some free food for lunch. No big deal. It was just like Walmart, where you're always seventh in line.

Picture this waiting line at the RIGHT-side register:

Lady doing some complicated lottery or mini-liquor-bottle transaction, tying up the clerk.
Man waiting to pay for gas
Man waiting with junk food
Man waiting with fountain soda
Man waiting with bottled sodas

I was prepared to wait my turn. Nowhere to go in a hurry. I had stocked up with Super Nacho supplies and some Save A Lot beer brats for grilling today, mailed an MSTA teacher questionnaire about professional development, picked up lunch (chicken tenders) for The Pony at Hardees, and cashed in some scratch-off winners and obtained my 44 oz Diet Coke from the gas station chicken store. It was just now 12:30. So I had all day.

A spare clerk appeared at the left side register. "I can help whoever's next."

At that moment, the Complicated Lady completed her business and turned to leave.

The Gas Man had already crossed to the LEFT register.

The Junk Food Man stepped up to the RIGHT register as the Complicated Lady went out.

D*ckhead stayed in the RIGHT line, and turned to Fountain Soda Man behind him. "Go ahead, dude." D*ckhead was 2nd in line now, you see, so he chose to stay and wait on Junk Food Man to finish up in the RIGHT line.

Fountain Soda Man went to the LEFT line, to be 2nd in line there.

Bottled Soda Man was now 3rd in the RIGHT line, so he stayed put, rather than be 3rd on left.

Val stepped left, to be 3rd in line on the LEFT register.

The new clerk made great progress on the LEFT register.
Gas Man paid and went.
Fountain Soda Man got two scratchers and paid for his soda.
Val's turn.

SCREEEEEEECH! That's the ol' needle gouging the not-heaven out of the phonograph record.


Let the record show that the RIGHT register was now tied up with the Junk Food Man. After making his bed, D*ckhead chose not to lie in it, but rather to jump like Goldilocks (but contrary to popular opinion, NOT the entire 7th Fleet) into VAL'S bed!

I call shenanigans! D*ckhead had clearly made his choice to stay in the RIGHT line. The opportunity for line-jumping had passed. There were two distinct lines, ten feet apart. Orb K is NOT some bank lobby with velvet ropes, where the customers hang back until the next teller is open, and the one at the front of the ropes goes there.

Needless to say, but I'll say it anyway, because Val is one wordy gal...I was shocked! Shocked at the audacity of D*ckhead, to rush over in front of me before I could take one step to the counter. He virtually elbowed Fountain Soda Man to push him on his way.

And do you know the worst part? None of the two or three customers who had come in since the opening of the second register, nor the relief clerk herself, SAID A WORD!

Yeah. Orb K is not your grandmother's convenience store. It does not cater to the genteel clientele (in halter tops, clamoring that two legs and two breasts are every guy's dream) who frequent the gas station chicken store.

I did not say a word, though the sound of my rolling eyeballs and snort of disbelief might have been heard round the world.

Val is re-examining her soda-and-gambling-needs options.

Not sure if Joe H is in my corner or not. If so, I could have used his crankiness to tell that guy off. He was a pretty big fellow, though.


  1. You could have unhooked your brassiere while it was still under your shirt, slipped your arms out of it, and used it like a lasso to rope him in and yank him back.


    Well then, I got nothing else to suggest. But next year, when you're retired, you can get into all sorts of entanglements, and you won't have to worry about assault charges jeopardizing anything.

    Think of the unlimited reading you can do in prison... And no Hick to torment you...

    1. And tell him I have a gun out there in my purse, and that I'll change him from a rooster to a hen with one shot!

      Apparently I'm not the only one who didn't begrudge Sigourney Weaver her time in jail in "A Map of the World."

  2. At least the guy cutting in front of you didn't buy a winning lottery ticket rightfully belonging to you.

    1. Not-heaven NO! That would have upped the ante for kinder, gentler, snorting, eye-rolling Val.

  3. I am definitely in your corner, however the course of my cranky action is always dependent on the size of the dog in the fight.

    If he was shorter than I and had no tattoos I would point and tell him "I don't think so dude, back of the line."

    If he was as you say, a large gentleman, I would probably just grumble something like, "Excuse me, what am I an onion?"

    If he was as you say, a large gentleman and had tattoos or a facial scar I would probably just roll my eyes really loud.

    1. Maybe...if just one of us could roll an eye out of the socket...that guy would chase it across the tile floor and we could jump back in front of him. Then accuse him of gouging out our eye! I hear the sirens already.

  4. You can (almost) always count on Joe!!

    1. Yes. Unless you drive a Beemer, or try to give him used water.

  5. Maybe when he line jumped, you could've accidentally stepped on his foot or spilled your soda on his back. Oops.

    1. That would be a waste of a good soda.

  6. Record screeching and Val eyerolls. THAT'S what I heard.

    1. You'll probably be hearing it more often these days, what with the world poised on the edge of a handbasket...

  7. I always want to humiliate people like that. Problem is .... they wouldn't get it.

    1. They may not get it, but I'd sure like to give it to them!