Val Makes a Comeback: Good News, Bad News Edition

After yesterday's poor attempt at entertainment, rest assured that the Old Val is back. She is fired up about something, by cracky, and has her mojo back! That's the good news. The bad news is that it concerns her overdone topic of convenience store encounters.

What in the not-heaven is wrong with these Millennials today? I'm not talking about the young Millennials around Genius's age. I KNOW what's wrong with them. I raised one, you know. Uh uh. I'm talking about the old Millennials. In their thirties. Old enough to know better, but just don't give a rodent's patootie.

I went into the Casey's today to get a scratch-off ticket. A loser, I might add, which exacerbates the situation. I'll never get back to the casino at this rate. Anyhoo...I went inside and got in line. This is the Casey's across the moat from the gas station chicken store, beside Hick's pharmacy, CeilingReds.

Two women were standing at the counter paying. I stood a respectful distance back, not needing to be in the hip pocket of their Daisy Dukes. I was nearly straddling one of those yellow signs proclaiming WET FLOOR. I had my money in hand, all ready to go. I was saving yesterday's big winner to cash in at the gas station chicken store, lest they think I'm a loser, only buying. Because what people think about me in a convenience store matters. Unlike that Old Millennial who came up beside me.

Old Millennial was carrying three 44 oz sodas. That alone makes him suspect in my book, because Casey's only sells PEPSI products. Anyhoo...he moved up beside the counter, and set down his three foam cups. I don't fault him for that. Did you know those things are flimsy and can be pierced by a thumb? I waited, knowing I was next, as one of the women got her change and started out. I assumed they were together, but as the payer went out the door, a man stuck his head in and said, "Get me a pack of smokes."

Daisy #2 had three tall cans of energy drink on the counter. I think it was Monster. And let me just say, those Monster people should be proud of their marketing strategy, because I would never buy a Monster, but these cans were very pretty, in assorted colors, with a coordinated flip top. Daisy #2 asked for the smokes, and then said she was also paying for the gas on pump two. The clerk said, "He'll have to hang up the nozzle first." And Daisy #2 said, "He just got off work. He hasn't had any sleep. I made him go pay bills with me." So they looked out the window, while Old Millennial and I were cooling our heels in line, until he did. THEN Daisy #2 took out her checkbook! Because I'm sure she had no idea that she would be using it before the actual time to hand over payment.

THEN a new clerk came out of the back room. She opened up the register by where Old Millennial had set down his 132 oz of drinks. "I can help someone here."

Do you think that Old Millennial said, "Oh, she was first. Go ahead." NOT-HEAVEN NO! That smug sonofagun let her ring up his purchase, and got out his plastic money to scan. That's some nerve right there. I had been waiting behind the Daisy Dukes a couple of minutes before he even got in line. Oh, he KNEW I'd been there first. He was just shifty.

You know, if Old Millennial had acknowledged that I was there first, even with a little head nod, I would have magnanimously said, "Oh, go ahead. You already have your sodas on the counter." I know they're hard to move. Even though he wouldn't have needed to move them for me to say the number of my ticket, and hand over the cash. Yep. I would have let him go ahead of me. I'd have been ticked off about giving up my turn, but I'd have done it.

Oh, wait. That's a moot point, because Old Millennial TOOK MY TURN! Without my blessing! I feel violated. That's not right! Effing Millennial! He needs a Baby Boomer beatdown!

As I was going back to T-Hoe, 30 seconds later, my transaction being complete...I saw Old Millennial in the red pickup parked next to me. That was parked all crookedy, I might add, having seen some poor dude trying to wedge himself into the driver's door of his little silver sedan on the other side of it, as I was on the way in earlier.

"I hope that was worth it. Taking my turn. You piece of Millennial crap." I muttered under my breath as I walked past. Because muttering at the top of her lungs is not Val's style. Not my finest five seconds. The older I get, the more entitled I feel. The less inclined I am to take crap.

Thank you. I'll be here all...well...the rest of my life. Shaking my arthritic fist at people who dare to even look at my lawn.