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Wednesday, November 20, 2013

Sometimes You Have To Realize That You're The Jerk Until You're Not

I was just in line at the drugstore, and the woman in front of me was being (as I like to say, while rolling my eyes) difficult.

Somehow, the clerk forgot to charge her for something that cost a dollar, and Difficult Woman insisted that the clerk fix her error. I stood behind her with my arms full of stuff, shifting from foot to foot, highly conscious of the fact that my time was more precious than hers (of course) and mentally cursing this woman over a lousy dollar.


Why did she even say anything?? It's a dollar, for Pete's sake. A lousy dollar. And now the clerk has to void the whole sale and re-ring it (of course) and I'm going to have to wait even longer. Over a lousy dollar.

And of course, as a niggling afterthought, I realized that I was being a jerk. Difficult Woman was just being honest, and here I am rolling my eyes and mentally cursing her for it. I'm thinking "Most people wouldn't have said a thing," and wondering why she wasn't like most people.

The truth is, if most people were more like Difficult Woman, the world would probably be a better place. And if there were less impatient people like me, people would probably find it easier to do the right thing on a regular basis.

So, the truth is, then, that I'm the jerk here.

That's not a nice thing to realize, even if it is true.

So I put on a smile as the manager was called over to the register, and the clerk began to explain the situation that required the void and I smiled encouragingly at Difficult (now Good Person) Woman when she looked over her shoulder at me.

Until.

I really listened and realized that the dollar in question wasn't an unpaid for item at all, but a donation to a local charity that Difficult Woman accidentally pushed the "YES" button for while checking out electronically, and now she wanted it removed because she didn't want to donate a dollar.

Difficult Woman is now and forevermore Asshole Woman, and I was back to being really ticked that I had to wait.

And the moral of this story, ladies and gentlemen, is that the world needs less of both our types of people.

But a lot less of her type.

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