Phew, close call...
Actually, reverse that. Boo, I wish I made it on there. Bad publicity is suh-weet. After all, you better believe I checked out each lame-o blog thoroughly and even checked back again today. So, as far as my own lame blog goes, here's to another year of lameness!
*clink*
On the other lame hand, I've been thinking about doing some short story/poetry writing on here, but quickly changed my mind. I'm way too vulnerable for that. I mean, there are vultures everywhere.
So, instead, I'll continue to clue you into the lame thoughts/fears/etc. that plague my mind and conscience on a daily basis.
For example, I can't help but notice that whenever anything upsets me or if I'm put off, disadvantaged, turned down, told no, or given any other type of negative response, I automatically begin to write a strongly-worded letter of disappointment in my head. Instead of verbalizing anything, I write it down in my head. Instantly. It happens all the time: at work, restaurants, on the bus, train, at Walgreens, at the movie theater, while reading the newspaper, Details magazine, at my building's doormen, the gym and its personnel, here, there, everywhere.
No matter what bad situation or less-than-positive interaction occurs, if I feel at all jaded upon conclusion...boom, a letter is written.
However, none of these letters make it to actual paper, except on a few extreme cases, but rather they're all mental letters that sit in mental stacks on top my mental desk within my mental brain. Hm...mental brain, I like the sound of that. It's staying.
Anyway, it happened last night: I was at Jewel-Osco buying groceries. I get into the checkout lane and begin to unload my groceries out of my basket and onto the checkout conveyor belt thing. While I'm doing that, my roommate, who was checking-out in the lane across from me, asked if she could use my Jewel Preferred Savings card. I'm like yeah, of course, here you go. Didn't think a thing of it. So, I go to reach over the aisle to hand it to her and my checkout lady intercepts the transaction, takes the card from me, gives me a look, hands it to my roommate's checkout lady, she scans it, hands it back to my checkout lady, she scans it for my groceries, hands it to me, and then gives me another look.
I was confused. Was letting someone use your Preferred Savings Card against store policy? I didn't know it to be? Did I do something wrong? Why did you just give me that nasty look? Bad day?
Sorry 'bout it lady.
I, of course, didn't say one word about it. Rather, I just smiled, handed the bagger my eco-friendly grocery bags, happily swiped my debit card, inserted my pin number with great care, and upon exiting thanked both the check-out lady and the bagger for their service and went about my merry way.
BUT, in my head, the mental ink was hittin the mental paper. Hard.
My dramatic and over-the-top mental letter rambled endlessly about how I faithfully shop at Jewel-Osco on a weekly basis, to which (and yes, you're welcome) I buy mostly Jewel-brand items, I'm always courteous to the staff even though I feel like they never restock the shelves during the evening hours, I never do weird things like re-think my frozen Bob Evans Sausage Breakfast Biscuit selection and then place it in the cereal aisle next to the Cheerios as if that's where I found it, I never report dented cans upon checkout for a price reduction (does that even work?), and most importantly I walk around the store, aisle-upon-aisle, with a nice, big smile on my face to cheer on (and applaud) the efforts of those that work there (even though I wish they would stock the shelves more regularly).
Just doing my part, people.
Anyway, I won't let this solitary situation (although I once had an altercation with the person monitoring the self-checkout lanes, long story) affect future visits to Jewel-Osco despite the fact that the unexplained nasty look my cashier gave me (twice!) made me feel like I tried to rob the place. To boot, she didn't say thank you or have a good night. She didn't even fold my receipt like they always do. She just handed it to me (forcefully) and never gave me a second look.
Rude. Party of one. Your table is definitely ready.
Oh well. Their was an up side to all of this: the bagger somehow managed to fit all of my groceries into 2 bags instead of three, which was a miracle because I bought a larger amount of groceries this go-around than normal. This made carrying my groceries home much easier. I thanked her and even added, you did an awesome job, getting it all in there like that.
I don't know if she heard me or not, but trust that I said it.
In conclusion, if everyone was as nice as I am and treated others the way I do, life would be better and similar to whatever planet the Teletubbies live on...where the smallest nuances of life are surprising and fun, rabbits hop around everywhere, and, on top of all that, you get to see and hear a baby laugh at sunrise and sunset. I'd be President of this land (voting is not allowed, sorry) and name it LameVille.
Let's go, sign me up! And sign up that checkout lady. She could use a vacation. I'll pardon her.
