That Day I Was Kind Of a Jerk

In order to procrastinate on cleaning my house, I decided to undertake a chore that I hate even more: grocery shopping. I figured the grunge on my floors from two dogs tracking in much of the backyard after two weeks of rain wasn’t going anywhere, whereas if I didn’t restock on food – food that, admittedly I’ll never cook and absolutely not eat – I might have to resort to opening that 2-year-old can of pinto beans in my pantry this week. The one I’ve been telling myself is for “emergencies.”

So off I went, begrudgingly, to the sto’. On the way, I stopped at Sonic and spent $6.80 for a Route 44 iced tea and a disappointing grilled chicken wrap that I wouldn’t feed to my dogs (and they’ll eat anything). Irritated way more than you’d think a crappy fast-food wrap would warrant, I whipped into the parking lot of the Market Street and promptly cut off a guy in a black rig who was running a stop sign. I took exception to his fist-shaking, honking and what I can only assume were vociferous and hearty well-wishes for my continued good health.

Because I have four siblings and know that there’s nothing more infuriating than being really angry at someone who doesn’t care, I really shine in these kinds of situations. I rolled down my window and gave him a big grin and jaunty wave (I promise you, I waved with all five fingers; I’m not a cretin) before continuing on my way to a parking spot.

Would Jesus have responded in that way? Probably not, but in my defense, I smiled. I waved. No court in the world would convict me for being friendly, even if in my heart, I was being an ass.

Pulling in to my slot, I prepared to exit my vehicle when Mr. I-Drive-a-Giant-Truck-to-Convince-All-the-Ladies-How-Big-My-Manhood-Is roared up behind me, blocking my exit and revving his engine a few times in some effort to…intimidate me? Turn me on? I don’t know.

But I, being the chickenshit I am, decided that this was a great time to be intimidated and lock my doors, slump in my seat, check my texts, freshen my lipstick (I’m lying, I’ve never worn lipstick on a weekend in my life), and for the first time, start to question my decision-making skills when I’m hangry.

After a full minute, he roared off. Relieved, I unlocked my door, gathered my purse and canvas bags and finally left the sanctuary of the Honda when a big black truck screeched back down the aisle and braked in front of me, revving his engine some more.

The parking lot was packed with good Christians doing their Sunday afternoon shopping and witnessing this little contretemps. Perhaps if I’d gone to church this morning, I’d not have been such a shithead this afternoon, but at that point I’d had enough of his nonsense. I didn’t even want to be grocery shopping in the first place, and I was ravenous because I had NO FOOD in the house and now I had to shop for groceries on an empty stomach, which will be a financial CATASTROPHE if I ever get into the store, and you see what I have to put up with? So I doubled-down, walked up to his driver-side window and arched my brow. “Do you NEED something, sir?”, I asked snottily (Admittedly this was not my best shot over the bow. I’ve launched waaaaay better but…HUNGRY.). His truck was so high I was addressing his door handle.

But darned if he didn’t meet my eyes from his lofty perch, and when I didn’t back down (even though I was thisclose to releasing a little trickle of scared pee down my leg), he finally drove off at a respectful speed. It could have been because he saw what hot mess finally stepped out of the car. Like I said, no lipstick, and also Weekend Raggedy-Ass Ponytail.

There’s no redeeming moral to this story. It’s basically one about two people being jerks to each other. I went inside and spent way more money on crap than I should have. Still feel slightly guilty for not smiling and nodding and diffusing the situation, but this is why you keep food in the house, I guess.