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So last night I went to pick up my sweetie from her job, where she works at a large national-chain home-improvement store. As it was New Year’s Day, the store hours were 9am to 6pm – which means they were closing four hours earlier than usual.
As I waited in the parking lot, I watched as the store associates locked the doors at 6:10pm. A few minutes later, a Cadillac Escalade parked in an adjacent space, and the driver, a woman in her mid-40s by her appearance, got out and started wrestling a largish box out of the back of the vehicle into a stray shopping cart.
I rolled down the window of my own car and told her the store had closed.
What did I get for my trouble? An icy glare that probably rivaled a winter night on Neptune.
Did she heed my warning? Of course not.
Anyway, she manhandled the box into the cart and pushed it to the entry door, which inexplicably failed to open for her. Second and third attempts failed to produce the desired results.
Then I watched as the woman totally lost her shit. Adult tantrums are common, true, but such displays of vitriol as I saw rank amongst the rarest imaginable, and her vocabulary would do a deckhand of a South Pacific tramp steamer proud.
All this for naught. She ranted and carried on for probably five minutes or so, kicking at the doors, shrieking, flailing her arms, and so on before she eventually came to grips with the fact that the store was done for the night, pushed the cart back to her truck, and wrestled the box back into the vehicle.
Then she ‘caught’ me watching her and dumped a load of invective on me. Not quite as spectacular as her meltdown at the entry doors, but amusing nonetheless. Her mood was not helped by the fact that in the midst of her tirade, I actually chuckled. Not the most ‘sympathetic’ thing to do, I know but it was so absurd I couldn’t help it. It infuriated her all the more that she couldn’t provoke a reaction from me. Eventually she got back into her car and squealed off into the night.
It occurred to me, watching her completely ignore the traffic light at the parking lot entrance, that money can’t buy class. Another, less amusing thought, was ‘Damn, I hope she doesn’t have children.’
As I waited in the parking lot, I watched as the store associates locked the doors at 6:10pm. A few minutes later, a Cadillac Escalade parked in an adjacent space, and the driver, a woman in her mid-40s by her appearance, got out and started wrestling a largish box out of the back of the vehicle into a stray shopping cart.
I rolled down the window of my own car and told her the store had closed.
What did I get for my trouble? An icy glare that probably rivaled a winter night on Neptune.
Did she heed my warning? Of course not.
Anyway, she manhandled the box into the cart and pushed it to the entry door, which inexplicably failed to open for her. Second and third attempts failed to produce the desired results.
Then I watched as the woman totally lost her shit. Adult tantrums are common, true, but such displays of vitriol as I saw rank amongst the rarest imaginable, and her vocabulary would do a deckhand of a South Pacific tramp steamer proud.
All this for naught. She ranted and carried on for probably five minutes or so, kicking at the doors, shrieking, flailing her arms, and so on before she eventually came to grips with the fact that the store was done for the night, pushed the cart back to her truck, and wrestled the box back into the vehicle.
Then she ‘caught’ me watching her and dumped a load of invective on me. Not quite as spectacular as her meltdown at the entry doors, but amusing nonetheless. Her mood was not helped by the fact that in the midst of her tirade, I actually chuckled. Not the most ‘sympathetic’ thing to do, I know but it was so absurd I couldn’t help it. It infuriated her all the more that she couldn’t provoke a reaction from me. Eventually she got back into her car and squealed off into the night.
It occurred to me, watching her completely ignore the traffic light at the parking lot entrance, that money can’t buy class. Another, less amusing thought, was ‘Damn, I hope she doesn’t have children.’
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