Y'all Have Created a Monster!

Hmm...remember how recently, I have been receiving no respect while waiting in lines? How people cut in front and take my turn, or motion for three other people to come join them right in front of me, or act like they shouldn't have to wait, and then insert themselves directly behind me, ahead of five or six people who've been waiting for a while? And remember how several of you have advised this ol' Val to stand up for herself? To be more assertive?

Y'all have created a monster!

Yesterday, I had TWO such encounters at the same convenience store! TWO!! It was at the Casey's over by my bank. I parked over at the side because the milk truck was making a delivery. I walked all the way across the lot, up the concrete ramp (delivery man be darned, he can wait his turn!) and down the sidewalk towards the door.

I was two or three steps away when a young man came out that door. He was a Millennial, perhaps early 20s, wearing a dark blue navy pea coat and a sock cap the the kids these days call beanies instead of sock caps. He was well-dressed for the Backroads area. Better than the camo guy in a pickup truck that I got behind, with a mini deer head with tiny antlers cover on his trailer hitch, and balls of steel swinging to and fro below the bumper. This Millennial was certainly more urban than country. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Millennial pushed that glass door open by the metal bar, with his left hand. He took a step out and glanced to his right and saw me. Two or three steps away. Val does not expect people to hold the door open for her. She is neither infirm nor decrepit. She doesn't think the world owes her anything (except her rightful parking space and parking lot pennies), or that she's a privileged class because of her womanhood. No. She just wants traffic to flow smoothly in and out of the convenience store doors. Shove it open as you go out so I can catch it as I'm going in. It's all about the pace. 'Bout the pace. No trouble.

Anyhoo...the Millennial saw me striding toward the door. He took a step towards the truck parked nearby, turned, and PUSHED THE DOOR CLOSED! Not only did he push the door closed, he held it for a moment, like he was waiting for it to click a latch. PUSHED THE DOOR CLOSED, when it is made to close on its own, at a normal door-closing pace, yet he took it upon himself to hasten its closure. Right as I was heading in, desiring it to be openable.

I am used to the Millennials not taking the trouble to hold a door open for me. That would require caring about someone not themselves. I don't expect it. I have questioned why one would open the door and slip in like a thief evading an electric eye (like happened at the gas station chicken store a while back), rather than flinging the door open so I can grab it as I come along behind them. But THIS was a first. Somebody deliberately pushing a door closed, faster than it would close itself, as I walked up to enter.

WHAT IN THE NOT-HEAVEN?

Am I now Public Enemy #1? Must convenience stores be protected from me by Millennials holding doors shut? I don't know what was going on there. But Millennial finally let it go and walked off, after my stride was broken. I grabbed the metal handle and pulled it open, a bemused look on my face. Still can't figure that one out.

Inside was one person at the counter, paying. Or trying to, from the discussion of some problem with his card. Only the first register was open, with the real polite lady working, the one who sells me my scratchers, and who helped me find a funnel and oil when Hick was galavanting around Europe and T-Hoe developed a terrible oil thirst. I had a scratcher clutched in hand to redeem.

Over by the donut case was a man in a yellow and gray windbreaker. He looked kind of like Kenny Rogers, halfway between his old face and his new face. He had longish silver hair and a part walrus, part Fu Manchu mustache. He was standing in the second aisle, holding an open box of donuts. I didn't count them to see if there was a full dozen, but there were a lot, yet the box lid was flapped open. He wasn't bent over using tongs to grab donuts. Just standing in the aisle beside the case, facing toward the front wall. Another guy, in work boots and jeans, was leaning against the beverage cooler doors on the wall at Donut Man's left, texting.

You know Val. Always the proper lady. I didn't want to butt in line if they were waiting. I stood at the entrance of the first aisle (CANDY) because there isn't much room in that store. I looked at Donut Man.

"Are you in line?" Just a question. Common sense. So you don't unknowingly take someone's spot in line. Val abhors line-cutters. Polite, I thought, to see if he was shooting the breeze with that texting man (as Backroads men are wont to do) in which case I would get in line...or if he was ready to pay and I should wait and go after him. He was at least 12 feet away from the counter.

"Yes. I'm in line."

"Okay. I couldn't tell, with you over there." Simple, right? Just making conversation. VALidating the fact that I now knew he was ahead of me for the line. You know Val. Always polite. I stayed in the first aisle, waiting my turn. I didn't see any point of walking to the other side of the store beside Beverage Cooler Dude, who hadn't even looked up when I asked about the line.

WELL! Donut Man stomped over to the counter, crowded up on the guy paying, threw down his still-open box of donuts with a thump, turned to look right at me, and said, "How's THAT? Is THAT good enough?"

I was taken aback by the chip on his shoulder. Any other day, I might have ignored him. But I'd just had a door deliberately held closed as I was about to enter. And this line crap has been happening more and more frequently, and you guys have been encouraging me to stand up for myself, and the way I saw it, I was quite possibly the politest customer in that store at this moment, what with the paying guy arguing, and Beverage Cooler Guy standing with the sole of one work boot up against the glass of the beverage cooler doors. No way was I going to politely ask Donut Man what he was getting at.

What did he want from me, anyway? To say that yes, that was good enough? What kind of response did he have for that? Or maybe I should have told him that no, it wasn't good enough, and that he needed to close his friggin' donut box so people would know he was done donuting.

I should have just reiterated that I hadn't known if he was in line, and didn't want to cut. But who knows, he might have seen that as a sign of weakness, and clobbered me with a donut. This guy was going out of his way to be a rumpus-hole. So I can be one too.

"Well, I guess I COULD have gotten in front of you."  Mess with the Val, you get the tongue. Don't get all smart-rumpus with me for no reason. There I'd been, making sure I didn't take his turn, and he goes all aggressive on me. For no reason!

Donut Man grabbed his still-open box of donuts. Stepped back, gave a grand gesture with his arm towards the counter, and said, "Since you're in such a big hurry."

Hold the phone, Beverage Cooler Dude! Val is never in a big hurry. What else does she have to do? I never said I was in a hurry. I was not tapping my toe or heavy-sighing. I thought I did the right thing by asking if he was in line. Now I was out-of-line for being polite? EFF YOU, poor man's Kenny Rogers! Kenny would never have treated Dolly like that! She would have shoved him right off the island, into the stream.

"This isn't worth it." I left. Let that passive-aggressive rumpus-hole showcase his rumpus-hole for somebody else. I felt like Kathy Bates, ramming that car on the parking lot of the Winn Dixie. TOWANDA! Empowerment is a beautiful thing.

I cashed in my scratcher at the next Casey's down the road, and won $30 on the ticket I got.