Another Victim of Victimization

Val is the victim once again! I know that comes as quite a surprise to you. I have smelling salts available for a nominal charge.

As you know, I make a daily visit to the Gas Station Chicken Store for my 44 oz Diet Coke. It's a small establishment, Mom & Pop, not a chain. It's close quarters inside. There are two shelves down the middle, leading to the beer cooler on the back wall. That leaves three aisles. One on the left, by a cooler of juices, one down the middle with snacks on each side, and one on the right, where the soda fountain and hard liquor reside. 

The line goes down that aisle on the right side. Every now and then, somebody will stand by the door, on the other side of the register, impatiently waving a bill, as if paying for gas put them at the head of the line. Not so much anymore, since most people use plastic, not real money.

A problem arises when somebody doesn't want to take two steps to get into the line, and stands blocking the middle aisle. They might wait their turn as people step up, but they also present the illusion of A LINE behind them.

Well. Wednesday, the Gas Station Chicken Store was busy. I went directly down the middle aisle, turned right, and filled my foam cup with my magical elixir. I turned to step up to the end of the line, and surveyed who was ahead of me, since there had been a lurker that I passed upon entrance at the head of the middle aisle. I noted that he was wearing a black jacket. So I knew that even if the guy in line ahead of me paid, I was still behind that guy in the black jacket. It's not hard to remember.

As I was standing at the end of the line, the door opened. A chime goes off when somebody enters or leaves. A white-bearded man entered, wearing a blue and white plaid flannel shirt. WHY, I don't know. It was 53 degrees and sunny and windy. I was in short sleeves and perfectly comfortable. Anyhoo... I'm not here  to judge him on his attire. It's just an identifier. Mostly...

 

I watched him walk toward the middle aisle. I didn't know if he was going on down to the beer cooler, or standing over there. The thing is, I saw him come in, down to his shirt where he had it tucked into his jeans. So he could obviously see me. A clear line of sight from my head to the door.

I waited and waited. The lady paying for a suitcase of Bud Light was having trouble with her card. Third time was a charm. Then a guy paid for gas with his card. The man ahead of me bought two high-dollar scratchers by cashing one in. Then the black jacket guy stepped up with his two glass bottles of Coke and a bag of snacks.

That meant I was next. I kept my 6-foot distance. As he gathered up his change and scooted a little bit aside, 

 

FLANNEL SHIRT STEPPED UP! He turned to look at me.

"Oh. I didn't see you there."

Then he turned and started doing his business!

Usually, such a situation results in both parties saying, "No, you go ahead." And, "I'm in no hurry. You go." And, "That's okay. I don't have anything else to do." And, "Okay. Thank you."

Not Flannel Shirt! I'm pretty sure he knew he was line-jumping. He just had that kind of attitude. I told The Pony about it, in my fit of pique that lasted all the way home.

"Who does that guy think he is, anyway! I know he saw me there. How could he not? I saw him. He knew the line was moving from over on my side. I didn't come in after him. Where else could I have been? I know his type!"

 

"From your description, Mom, he sounds like one of your people."

 

"Um. No. I'm pretty sure he was one of YOUR people."

 

"In a flannel shirt with a white beard? I don't think so. That is typically YOUR people."

 

"He had his flannel shirt TUCKED IN! And his beard was trimmed like Kenny Rogers! Besides, when he stepped up to the counter, the clerk said, 'Oh. I didn't recognize you without your mask.'  And he said, 'I forgot it today. Do you want me to get it?' That's not MY people! They NEVER wear a mask!"

 

The Pony had no retort.

 

Anyhoo... I was VICTIMIZED! Butted out of my rightful place in line by a flannel-shirt-tucking guy in a Kenny Rogers  beard who was a mask-wearer without a mask!

My indignance knows no bounds... When he said he didn't see me there, I should have replied, "Oh? I saw YOU come in, while I was standing here at the end of the line." I guess he thought my ample rumpus just materialized out of thin air during the five minutes he was waiting in line.