And This May Be Why I No Longer Work Retail...

Mood: Lazy (It's been a busy, busy day and now I'm just plain old lazy)

What I'm watching: Women's Nationals Gymnastics (apparently watching the cheerleading thing last night didn't properly quash my self esteem so I'm going back for more).

Scott and I had to brave Wal-Mart today since we needed Wal-Mart type stuff (body wash, toilet paper, etc.) and we also needed a good price on a new tire for Scott's car.

Normally a trip to Wal-Mart isn't a huge deal but today, well, it was it's own little slice of hell on earth. Why? Three little words. Back.To.School. The aisles were crowded with stressed and weary adults dragging around their cranky and overstimulated offspring. There was yelling and screaming (from the adults) and whining and tantrum throwing (from the children) and snide, irritated comments (from people like me).

Also? We saw a woman have a monumental melt down. She was in the front of the store, screaming at the Wal-Mart greeter that she'd lost her father. Now, we're talking about a woman who was at least 40 years old (with bad make-up making her look an incarnation of Bette Davis ala Whatever Happened to Baby Jane) and she's screaming like a banshee because she's lost her father.

After listening to her yelling at the poor Wal-Mart greeter for about five minutes (and honestly, what power does the Wal-Mart greeter really have?) I was finally able to riddle out what was going on (FYI? Screaming? So not helpful in establishing meaningful communication). Seems her father is something like 95 years old and not in good health. He was riding one of those Wal-Mart carts and had, apparently, gotten himself lost. And, it seems that this woman believed that this was somehow the problem of those who were working at Wal-Mart. She kept screaming that it was important, that they needed to do something that it was a VERY SERIOUS ISSUE.

As I was listening to her rant I began to wonder about a couple of things. First, just what did she expect the people at Wal-Mart to do? Did she expect a super secret Wal-Mart swat team to storm the store and find her father for her? Did she think they'd issue a code Adam for a 95 year old man riding a motorized cart? And, really? If her father's condition was that delicate and he was that unstable then why the heck didn't she stay with him in the first place? I mean, we're not talking about a three year old toddler who can take off like a shot the minute you turn your back. We're talking about a 95 year old man in bad health riding on a motorized cart that goes all of two miles per hour. How the heck does he get away from you in the first place??

I have to say that I stood in silent awe as I watched the employees listen to the screaming without resorting to physical violence. I was impressed as they paged the 95 year old man without ever once pointing out to the hysterically crazy woman that, really, she should have been taking better care of her father and that it wasn't their fault that he'd gotten lost. Personally? I think I would have flicked her in the head and told her that her father had probably run away to get a break from her insane self.

And this may be why I'm no longer employed in the retail sector.

The Short List is Getting Longer Everyday!

Mood: Worn Out (this week has already lasted a year and it's only Thursday morning)

What I'm listening to: "Our Song" by Taylor Swift (What can I say, I still have a tiny bit of country running through my veins).

I have a new addiction: McDonald's Sweet Tea. YUMMMM!!! So, this morning (having scrounged the necessary $1.06 out of my change tray), I was in line at the drive thru looking for my morning fix. I placed my order, handed over my money and was waiting patiently when the person in the large, obnoxious, diesel guzzling pick up behind me decides that it's taking too long and starts honking his horn. Uh, moron? Honking your horn at me is not going to make the process go any faster because, you know, I'm not the one actually making the food/drinks here. Honestly, what did this genius expect me to do? Crawl through the window and make my own tea?

He's definitely on my list today.

Also on my short list recently?

Cigna insurance: Sending me a request for additional information on a possible pre-existing condition? No problem. Refusing to tell me what that pre-existing condition is? Completely moronic. How am I supposed to answer all your stupid questions if I don't even know what the hell you're talking about???

My step-daughter's summer camp: Cancelling camp due to the swine flu was probably a very good idea. Cancelling it at the last minute, annoying. Deciding to go ahead and get all the campers together for a single day anyway...well, doesn't that defeat the idea of NOT having all them gathered in the same place so as to minimize the chance of spreading infection?!?

The Radiologist: He sent me a bill for $1.00. A lousy dollar. Now, it's not that I mind paying the dollar. It's a dollar. But really? By the time he pays to print the bill, have someone fold and stuff it, then pays the postage on that bill...well, it's going to end up costing him at least 20¢ to collect my dollar. Is it bad that I briefly considered making two payments of 50¢ each?

North Korea: Seriously? Get over yourself.

Giordano's Pizza on Rush Street, Chicago: Obviously they watched the 'Soup Nazi' episode of Seinfeld one too many times. 3 hours of waiting outside on a hot, muggy day in the city only to be seated 2 feet from the guy screaming names into the loudspeaker? NOT an ideal dining experience. FYI? The PA system is meant to prevent the need to scream! Scott says this was all worth it because Giordano's has the.best.pizza.ever (mind you, this is the same man who once refused to wait 30 minutes to eat at a place I really like). I say Scott needs his head examined because, by the time we got served, I was so: tired, cranky, hot, annoyed and headachy I just wanted to hurt someone. badly. No pizza is worth that mess.

Adults who insist on acting like spoiled children: GROW UP! I'm not your mother, your father or your nanny. I'm not responsible for you in any way. If you don't get something done, that's not my problem. If you get your feelings hurt, learn to deal with it. If you look for reasons to be offended, expect to be offended and I will assume that you enjoy being offended. If you don't like the way something is going, figure out a way to change it. Acting like a spoiled brat and throwing a fit because things aren't going your way? NOT ACCEPTABLE. Also? If you are going to insist on acting like a three year old, pouting and having a fit? Don't be surprised if you find yourself sitting in the time out corner until you can behave appropriately!

Seriously? Some days I wonder why I don't end up under my desk, curled in a small ball, eating my own hair.

Shouldn't There be a Test or Something?

Mood: Worried (My new neice, baby Miley, is only four days old and back in the hospital to treat a case of jaundice..I know she'll be fine but I'm worried just the same).

What I'm watching: George Lopez (Gotta Love George....I GOT THIS!)

Honestly, have we gotten to the point where we award a driver's license to anyone who actually manages to show up at the DMV with a pulse? In an effort to lower my bloodpressure and give the horn in my car a break (I'm too ladylike to use hand-gestures), I've generated the following rules for sharing the roadway with me:

1.) It's called a turn signal, it's not there for decoration so I suggest you learn to use it!

2.) If you are driving the wrong way down a one-way street (you know who you are), you do not get to stop your car and cuss me out for being in the "wrong" lane! Seriously, next time, I may be compelled to kick your hiney just on principle.

3.) Do Not ride my bumper. I can't stress this enough. Somedays I'm irritated enough with the world that I just might have to slam on my breaks and allow you to hit me. Remember, where I live it doesn't matter the reason, if you rear-end someone the accident is YOUR fault. I know from experience replacing my bumper costs in the neighborhood of $2,000. Oh, and if you think riding my bumper is going to make me go faster...it won't. In fact, when someone is riding my bumper, the craziest thing happens...I suddenly start driving like I'm 105 years old and can't find the gas peddle...I once made a guy follow me for 10 blocks at 4mph...don't test me!

4.) Do Not park so close to me that you need a can opener to get out of your vehicle because if you hit my car with your door because you were too stupid/drunk/blind or just plain ignorant to park your car in an appropriate manner, rest assured that I will hunt you down and make you pay for the damage. By the way, I also know from experience that re-painting my car door will run you somewhere in the neighborhood of $500.

5.) This one is for pedestrians but, since it pertains to driving as well, I thought I'd include it. Do Not walk right out in front of me and expect me to slam my breaks and come to a screeching halt just to avoid hitting you. My car is big and your bones are fragile...you do the math. Sure, most of the time I will stop because I like my car and I don't want blood stains on it. BUT. You just never know when I'll decide that running your stupid self over is a public service. Honestly, if you can't figure out that a huge metal object hurling at you going at least 30 MPH is something to be avoided, you shouldn't be allowed to contaminate the gene pool.

6.) If you are cruising the parking lot, looking for a place to park, you do not get to stop and block traffic for ten minutes while waiting for someone to unload their cart and vacate their parking space. First, someone like me is likely to come unglued and hurt you and second, it really will not hurt your couch potato backside to walk five more feet into the store.

7.) Pursuant to Rule 6. Should you decide to stop and block traffic for an extended period of time only to discover that you are much too close to the car in question to allow it to vacate the parking space you so ardently desire, Do Not expect me to back up and give you room. You can put your car in reverse, inch backwards, give me dirty looks and honk your horn all you want. I'm.not.moving! Not only will I not back up, but after you've been forced to move along and leave behind your "prime" parking spot, I will allow the car to vacate it's spot and will park in the coveted spot myself.