Yesterday I was in a parking lot, getting ready to leave a lovely little space marked Compact, when a large Excursion pulled in across from me, in a space also marked Compact.
I was in a highly cranky mood, and I was severely tempted to roll down my window and say, "Hey! That is a compact car space! You are the reason people like me in actual compact cars can't get out of our car doors sometimes!" But there was no one parked around him, and there was a kid with him, and I'm a little turtley anyway.
After I drove past him, I noticed that every single spot in the lot said Compact, which is both awesome (everyone should drive a compact car unless they need hauling capabilities on a regular basis), and insane (what about those people who have to haul things? Where will they park?). I actually suspect that the stores did that to maximize their number of parking spaces, not because they care whether their customers are driving big cars or small.
Then I stopped at Trader Joe's, where my cranky mood was exacerbated by the people who stand there helplessly while the cashier rings them up and finishes and then still has all of their stuff to bag. Would it kill you to put a few items into a bag yourself, a bag that you HAVE IN YOUR HAND BECAUSE YOU BROUGHT IT IN? Really? You are going to just stand there while the cashier does it all? Who raised you, anyway?
(I am a bit of an egalitarian. I think everyone should work retail at least once in their life, and then live as if they understand the fact that retail employees are not servants. People who don't understand that tend to look like entitled jerks, and there are a lot of that sort of people at Trader Joe's.)
When I went outside, I pulled out of my parking spot and started to pull forward just in time to be cut off by a girl pulling out of a spot just in front of me. She looked back, saw me inching forward, and kept going.
I may have honked more than once.
Not nice little "hi, I'm here!" honks, either. These were serious, arm-on-the-horn honks, and she did not look back at all.
Honking did not improve the crankiness.
Kicking the door and swearing today when I realized I was locked out of work after 5 when there might be no one to let me in did feel good, for a moment.
I'm still pretty cranky.
I was in a highly cranky mood, and I was severely tempted to roll down my window and say, "Hey! That is a compact car space! You are the reason people like me in actual compact cars can't get out of our car doors sometimes!" But there was no one parked around him, and there was a kid with him, and I'm a little turtley anyway.
After I drove past him, I noticed that every single spot in the lot said Compact, which is both awesome (everyone should drive a compact car unless they need hauling capabilities on a regular basis), and insane (what about those people who have to haul things? Where will they park?). I actually suspect that the stores did that to maximize their number of parking spaces, not because they care whether their customers are driving big cars or small.
Then I stopped at Trader Joe's, where my cranky mood was exacerbated by the people who stand there helplessly while the cashier rings them up and finishes and then still has all of their stuff to bag. Would it kill you to put a few items into a bag yourself, a bag that you HAVE IN YOUR HAND BECAUSE YOU BROUGHT IT IN? Really? You are going to just stand there while the cashier does it all? Who raised you, anyway?
(I am a bit of an egalitarian. I think everyone should work retail at least once in their life, and then live as if they understand the fact that retail employees are not servants. People who don't understand that tend to look like entitled jerks, and there are a lot of that sort of people at Trader Joe's.)
When I went outside, I pulled out of my parking spot and started to pull forward just in time to be cut off by a girl pulling out of a spot just in front of me. She looked back, saw me inching forward, and kept going.
I may have honked more than once.
Not nice little "hi, I'm here!" honks, either. These were serious, arm-on-the-horn honks, and she did not look back at all.
Honking did not improve the crankiness.
Kicking the door and swearing today when I realized I was locked out of work after 5 when there might be no one to let me in did feel good, for a moment.
I'm still pretty cranky.
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