Yes, kids, we’re celebrating Festivus early this year and as you know, everyone’s favorite Festivus tradition is the airing of grievances. As I have just returned home from my Thursday afternoon shopping trip for the week, I’m airing mine now.
The following are people who are still alive and in one piece solely because I strictly adhere to the Judeo-Christian ethic of “Thou Shalt Not Kill”:
- The Brand Ambassador who kept yelling at me to try his sausage. Every week it’s the same thing with you, isn’t it? Stop yelling at me!
- The couple who didn’t pay for something in their cart and were trying to leave with it, and thus started arguing with the receipt-checker which led to a huge line of people waiting to get their receipts checked at the door at the wholesale club.
- The people who work at the wholesale club who were standing up front watching the rest of us trying to leave and did nothing to help get us out of there. You’re lucky we didn’t stage a revolt. We outnumbered you by 18. Yes, I counted. I had plenty of free time while I stood there waiting.
- The cart cowboy who sighed loudly and stared at me as I put all my now defrosted frozen goods in the car. Just take the rest of the damned carts back and leave me alone. They’re my groceries. And I am particular about how I stack them in the car. I refuse to just throw them in haphazardly. I’m a Virgo, after all.
- The person(s) who decided that NW Arkansas would be a fantastic place to hold the country’s second largest bike rally. “They bring money into the economy, it’s fun, blah, blah, blah…” Bite me. Unless you can make some of them understand that the laws of the roadway still apply to them.
- Dear bikers, the parking lot of the grocery store? Not a meeting place for you guys to get together and gossip and smoke and basically block the entrance to said store. Go down the road to the bike dealership. They have parking and loitering areas there specifically set up for this event.
- The FIVE women working in the deli department who completely ignored me for I don’t even know how long. All I needed was cole slaw and potato salad because I’m too lazy to make my own to go with the brisket we’re barbecuing tonight. Thank you to the Hispanic man that yelled at them that they had customers waiting. You rock, sir. Welcome to the Brotherhood of Disgruntled Shoppers. We’re revolting at some point in time which will most likely be directly related to my hormones and inversely proportional to the amount of intelligence found around us.
- The mom of the boy who was swinging the cart around knocking crap off shelves. Ignoring it will not make it go away. But can I suggest some fast-acting chewable Benadryl? In the pharmacy aisle. You’re welcome.
- The lady that rolled up behind me and sighed and tapped her feet impatiently while I was checking out my groceries in the self-checkout lane. There were THREE other self-checkouts opened and ready to serve you, you heifer.
- The cars who inevitably block the intersection I have to cross to get back
to where the wine ishome. I shall run you over one of these days. Probably the same day the revolt happens.
- The lady that tailgated me all the way through our subdivision and shook her head when I came to a complete stop at the only stop sign in the whole area. Sorry, I know how many kids live in our neighborhood and I’m not trying to run over one of them so you can get somewhere two seconds faster.
Is it because I’m driving Joe’s Texas A&M decorated car the week we’re playing them? Is that it? Because I wore an Arkansas t-shirt to balance things out. I promise. I’d be driving my own Arkansas adorned car, but it’s in the shop, because that’s what Lincolns do best: sit in the shop.
Anyway, years ago I talked to this psychiatrist and he told me that writing down all the things that were stressing me out would help me get it out of my system. That was when I was 19. When I turned 21 I could buy wine. Wine is cheaper than therapy, but I find the list-making helps a little too. Thanks Doc!