Soul Thumping

On Being Approachable

I stopped by the grocery store tonight, the store I frequent at least twice each week.  John (yup, that it his real name), the cashier in the self-checkout section was there.  Without meaning to armchair diagnose, I'm going to assume John is somewhere on that beautifully colored autism spectrum.  He has been working at my grocery store for at least 5 years.  Only during the last 2 or 3 years has he "recognized" me as a frequent customer.  Tonight he said something to me that made me cry when I was safely tucked away in my car in the parking lot.  He asked me how I was doing and I told him I was doing great, ready to start the new year.  I inquired about his biking (he bought a bike earlier this year and has done a great deal of riding), and he told me he has taken advantage of the warm weather.  He always has some amazing facts to talk about, from the economy in Japan to migrating birds.  Before I left, he said, "I enjoy talking to you.  You are very approachable."  I wished him a great 2016 and headed out with my purchase, and when I got outside, I started to run to the car, not because of the rain, but because I started to cry.

 

This is important to me because approximately 3 years ago, I decided to start smiling.  I started smiling because I noticed no one else was smiling.  I was simply disgusted with passing mean, unsmiling people.  Everyone became ugly and unapproachable and my stomach was upset with so much ugliness.  Seriously.  I found the foul look on the face of the general public repugnant and disturbing, regardless of gender, race, single/married, with someone, alone, with kids, without, with friends/family, without.  I vowed to no longer contribute to that shit.  I began smiling at every stranger I passed.  I felt better.  It's no secret I battle chronic depression.  It's also no secret that these battles have been reduced to minor "struggles" and they are few and far between now.  I feel great, and 9 times out of 10, those I smile at, smile back, even if they have a frown at the time we make eye contact.  My The world is a better place.

How do I know it's working?  I feel better and I think I've made a difference just by learning to smile.  Don't get me wrong, I trust my gut and I have boundaries, but I'm learning to be approachable by flashing a bit of acceptance before I even know a person.

A coworker, a woman I admire and respect, told me that in the past she has received negative performance reviews because coworkers found her "unapproachable and intimidating."  I myself felt that way around her in the beginning, before I knew her.  I know after 4 years that if I need anything she is there and she is an amazing mom, woman, coworker, human, etc.  It took me nearly 4 years to realize this.  I don't want to be that person.  I want people to know right away that I can be approached.

At the beginning of this year, I was in the same grocery store.  I saw a little girl (4 or 5, I'm guessing) walking around the produce section by herself.  We made eye contact and she came running up to me.  She asked me if I could help her find her mom.  I parked my cart to the side and she took my hand.  This little girl, she didn't know me and I didn't know her.  I told her I would of course help her find her mom.  I asked her where she last saw her, what her mom looked like, etc.  We found Mom, who was just as frantic as the little girl.  The mom thanked me, and I told her I was happy to help.  I couldn't help but think, this little girl must have seen something in me that made her want to approach me.  I was so glad she could see whatever it was that she saw.  I would be sad if I thought someone in distress needed help but couldn't find an approachable human.  Travesty.

"You make my heart a little happier when I see you coming in the store."  This kind compliment was given to me two years ago by the owner of the dry cleaner near my home.  I see her only a handful of times each year, but she knows my name and she always jumps to wait on me.  I also cried in the safety of my car the day she first told me that.

I usually don't make resolutions, but if you do, I urge you to consider being more approachable in 2016, because it has improved my life greatly, and I'm willing to bet it will improve the lives of strangers who come into contact with you.  Serendipity is powerful.

Happy 2016 everyone.

 

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Spitting in Public - Why Does This Still Shock Me?

On a trip to New Orleans, 1993ish, I encountered something so disturbing it will never be erased from memory.  Not ever.

My then boyfriend and I were in the elevator of our hotel, heading in to drop off some crap we bought, before our walk around the French Garden district.  We stood next to each other in the elevator, and a man and his son got on at the same time, standing against the wall opposite us.

Neither of these people said a word as they stared down at their shoes, but as soon as the elevator doors closed and started its climb, this cretin boy, drew back, and hocked a ball of spit across the elevator...where we were standing...missing my head by only inches.

I was in shock!  The little bastard (who was maybe 10 or so), and his father, the big bastard, just stood there, watching his spit slide down the mirrored wall like an incoming train.  My boyfriend was horrified.  Speechless.

The simpletons got off on the next floor, without saying one word, and boyfriend and I were left in horror.  Outrage.  We couldn't even exchange, "Oh.My.God's" with each other.  I didn't want to believe that a kid could be that barbarous.  He was (probably still is...in prison).

I bring this up because some coworkers and I witnessed a landscaper spit into a large container garden during lunch today and we were all in agreement that this was just gross.  I know people (and by "people," I mean disrespectful deviants) spit in public, and it dumbfounds me more than it should, but sometimes when I see it, I'm blown away at the spectacular rudeness of it all.  Still.

Maybe I'm just jealous because I can't/won't spit in public?  I'm envious of those degernerates who just.don't.care.  They can let a ball of spit fly in the wind without a second thought about its final resting place.  That is it...I must be jealous because I know I wouldn't be good at spitting in public, and any lame attempt I make to do so will end with spittle running down my chin, not the tacky mirrored elevator wall or a tourists head.  The uncouth have better aim.

 

--Fortuitous Observer

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Do People Still Steal Stupid Stuff?

Yes, yes they do.  Despite my pretty alliterative title, this is an ugly topic because there are some ugly cretins out there.

Poseidon and I went to the Carolina Panthers football game yesterday.  Rain was in the forecast, so we purchased a couple of hooded rain ponchos the day before, just in case.

The game was more than a little boring, and the Panthers lost, though both teams played like kids on an elementary school playground.  Still, we like watching football, and the beer was cold, and the junk food was hot, so we weren't complaining.

There was even a near brawl during the 2nd quarter between three young Seahawks fans and a much larger mob of Panthers fans, which ended before it began with the Seattle boys being removed from the stadium.  There were several Carolina football fans in the stands ready to make punching bags of the spindly hipsters, so fortunately for them, security intervened or it would have been an unpleasant scene for all.

During the 3rd quarter of the game, Poseidon and I decided to get some food.  We didn't want to carry all of our stuff with us, so we left Poseidon's rain poncho, still in its zippered pouch, under his seat, along with the game program, a bag of peanuts, etc.

I think you know where I'm going with this, and you would be correct.  When we returned to our seats, we noticed that Poseidon's rain poncho was gone.  I was astonished, truly stupefied.  I cannot believe that people still steal random shit.  I mean, it would be a different story if it was actually raining!  For the love of Pete, you simpletons who took the poncho, if you can afford to buy tickets to the game, you can afford to buy a flipping rain poncho from Target (although, I'm going to admit, those little vinyl beasts are expensive)!

We were in the 2nd to the last row, and not a huge crowd in that section, and I have my suspicions about which ass hat stole the poncho, but who really cares, right?  It doesn't matter which aborted-attempt-at-being-a-decent-member-of-society took it, it just matters that someone did take it, thus, ensuring my cynicism will live on, so thanks for that you vile filching dimwit.

 

--Fortuitous Observer

Is it Rude to Use a Bike Bell? Oh, and Here is My New Awesome Bike Bell

Is it rude to use a bicycle bell when biking on busy trails?

When Poseidon and I bike the trails in our city, I usually say, "Coming up on your left" or "Coming up on your right (for those dolts who don't know the basic etiquette of keeping to the right)" to alert walkers, runners, moms/dads with strollers, other bikers, etc., that I'm behind them.  I always feel like I'm being rude, especially because I'm saying it in a louder voice than normal--so they can actually hear me--but I want to alert folks so they don't step out in front of me, causing either one of us injury, death, or worse, general annoyance.

I was told by a friend who used to live in Japan that the Japanese consider ringing a bike bell to be rude.  They tend not to say anything either, they just speed by, which seems awfully dangerous to me.  Personally, I would rather be presumed a bad-mannered meanie than risk plowing someone over.

So, the Pylones bike bell in orchid.  I ordered it a few weeks ago.  Will I actually use the bike bell though, that is the question?  The dinging sound it makes is lovely, and seems promisingly less offensive than my voice.

Honestly, I'm usually too anxious and concerned about hooking someone with the handlebars of my bike, dragging them around the lake until they fall off in a swarm of angry geese only to have their eyes pecked out, to be concerned that they think me an abrasive boor. Ding-ding.

 

Pylones bike bell in orchid

 

--Fortuitous Observer

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Why Whole Foods in Durham Brings Out the Worst in Me

Whole Foods is great.  I've been to some great Whole Food stores and I like the selection.  The Whole Foods in Durham?  Not so much.  In fact, I'm going to go so far as to say I hate going to the W.F in Durham.  Notice I said I hate going to the store.  The store itself is fine, although way too small compared to other Whole Foods store locations.  The employees at the Durham store are top notch.  Extremely helpful and polite.  I've never met an employee at Whole Foods in Durham who wasn't.

So why does a trip to the Whole Foods of Durham have me wanting to pop back a handful of Valium?  The self-absorbed, entitled, rude, surly, curt, barbarous, devoid of any social skills whatsoever clodpates who shop there.  Oh my God, I feel better already!

Yesterday Poseidon and I made what should have been a quick, uneventful stop at the Durham Whole Foods store to pick up items for his famous burritos.  We weren't in the market 2 minutes (I'm not exaggerating, it wasn't 2 minutes), when the Baroness of Horse Face Bitchville came right down the aisle with her cart and nearly ran me down.  I was stunned because she just kept going.  Admittedly, I'd had a long day and I was cranky so I said, in a voice full of snark, but without too much venom, "Excuse you," with no reply, so I continued on my way to catch up with Poseidon.

Maybe 15 minutes later, she came up to me and said, "Excuse me."  I said, "Thank you" and I meant it, but then she had to start being a bitch mutt.  Most of it to me was, "Blah, blah, blah" until she said, "I've never had such anger sent my way in all my life."  Seriously?  Wow, she should consider herself more fortunate that any soul on the planet if my "excuse you" was the most anger anyone has ever, ZOMG ever directed toward her.  Anyway, my reply, "Well, all you needed to do was be polite and say 'excuse me' when you nearly knocked me down."  She said something else back that only told me she wanted to keep this pointless banter going, but I ignored it and was already turning my attention back to Poseidon (poor Poseidon, the most laid back dude on the planet...and he married me).

So, will I go to the Whole Foods in Durham again?  Of course I will.  Will I run into ogress-mannered shrews?  Undoubtedly, but after this incident I will wash down my Valium with a full glass of water before entering those sliding glass doors on Broad Street.

--Fortuitous Observer

 

Previously published posts on a similar topic you might find interesting:

It's Senior Day at Kroger - Wear Your Chain Maille

The Bread Lady?

Supermarket Grazers and Serendepity

Do You, Um, Slurp When You Eat?

Last night Poseidon and I ordered Chinese food for dinner.  Poseidon hinted at a lack of energy to cook anything, and I, though not completely in the mood for Chinese, was less in the mood to forage through the pantry or refrigerator to whip up something magical out of freezer-burned frozen edamame and overly ripe olives in the style of Martha Stewart, so Hunan chicken and Poseidon's tofu, delivered to the front door, won out.

I always eat my Chinese food with chopsticks, even at home, because I tend to eat less and slower (slower because after 20+ years of using chopsticks, I still find it damn near impossible to get my food to go directly from chopstick to mouth...I usually take the scenic route:  chopstick to shirt, shirt to mouth), and last night I was starving by the time the food arrived, so I tore into.  I actually caught myself slurping and chewing with my mouth open.  I was a bit startled because I RARELY do this, and here is why:

My father did not like slurping.  I'll be blunt, he did not want to hear any sound coming from anyone while they ate.  Slurping, crunching, sucking, schlurping, chomping, chewing, grinding, gulping...these sounds drove him up the wall and down the other side.  Therefore, meals in my home growing up were the dreams of silent film makers.  "Eating" sounds like these made him leave a room in a fit of rage, like a spastic asylum resident.  On the rare occasion my mom made popcorn, he went all Biblical on us, and I don't mean preaching and quoting scripture, I mean storming mad and yelling like the Apocalypse was upon us.

Last night, when I first heard the slurping noise coming from my mouth, I nearly pissed my pants.  I took a deep breath and looked around.  Oddly enough, Poseidon had not even noticed my blunder.  I breathed a sigh of relief, and laughed inside, a really good laugh!  Why?  Because for a quick second (though my dad has been gone for several years), I imagined him hearing my schlurp, and I should either scurry under the couch or begin my search for earplugs immediately.  Ah, the things we learn in childhood.  Bon appétit.

--Fortuitous Observer

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Evil Old Man at Food Lion - Karma

This evening I went to Food Lion to pick up a few things.  In the check-out lane, the man ahead of me was being such an obvious ass to the woman who was checking him out.  He was a miserable ass hat.  She never lost her composure.  I was staring daggers through him at one point and he said to me, "What are you looking at?"  My response:  "A miserable pathetic asshole."  I said it with a huge smile.  He had no response and promptly left with his groceries.  I hope he had a car accident on the way home.  Oops, was that bad of me to say?  Oh well, let Buddha sort it out.

 

--Fortuitous Observer

Gym Locker Room - Ladies...There is no Maid Service!

I know I've ranted about this before, and one would think I could just accept it, get over it, and quietly move on, but for the love of cats, chocolate, and all things shiny, ladies, can you not clean up after your pitiful selves in the locker room at the gym?

Grown women (most of them...there are a few little girls in their late teens and early twenties who are all kinds of self-important and haven't found their big girl britches yet, but there might still be hope) who cannot put a used towel in the dirty towel basket that is not more than 10 feet from the locker room door scare the bejesus out of me.

I don't understand, I truly don't, so if there are any entitled, lazy as sin gym folk reading this, can you fill me in?  Why is it ok for you to leave your towel, wet with your smelly, gross sweat, on the floor or worse, on the BENCH where other ladies sit?  Why is this OK?

 

--Fortuitous Observer 

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Christmas Shopping Etiquette - Manners ARE Required, Lunkheads

Photo from CBC News

It is no secret that I'm caught up in the Christmas spirit this year, more so than in years past, and I'm trying to keep this train of cheer and goodwill toward man chugging forward, but it is also no secret that I'm a cynic, I'm convinced many people should undergo forced lobotomies, and I'm easily annoyed with stupidity; therefore, Christmas shopping in a public store/mall is a true ordeal for me.

Happily, I've done most of my holiday shopping online and have not had to endure many trips to public places where I'm more than likely to encounter rude, entitled miscreants.  It is this lack of interaction with dimwits that has allowed me to keep my good mood and Christmasy cheer intact!

Because even the most conscientious of people, those who know the spoken and unspoken rules of what constitutes good behavior in a polite society, can become a subnormal dolt while out and about during this festive season, I want to remind everyone of a few Christmas shopping rules of etiquette:

• If someone holds a door open for you as you juggle your purchases say, "Thank you."  If I hold a door open for you and you do not say, "Thank you,"  I'm going to let you know that you didn't say it, and I will be sure to let everyone within earshot hear me schooling you in Christmas shopping etiquette.

• Do NOT walk around in circles like a dimwit talking on your cell phone in the middle of a store like you would if you were home.  Why?  Because YOU ARE NOT AT HOME!  You are in a public space where people do their shopping and they do not need, and most importantly, want to hear your banal conversation about...ANYTHING!

• This could be lumped in with number 2, but enough impudent donkeys do this that it requires its own bullet...texting while standing in the middle of an aisle in a store as others are trying to shop around you is not acceptable behavior.  What shocks me about this is most of the offenders I encounter are not teenagers, they are the moms of teenagers.  I know you are trying to show everyone what a hip cool chick you are and that you have an iPhone (that your husband has to keep showing you how to use), but holding up other shoppers and forcing them to go around you isn't cool.  Put it down, or go sit on a bench and text your bff.  Maybe you think you can shop and text at the same time, but you CAN'T.  I know, because I CAN'T!

• It is the Christmas season, and people will be shopping, stores will be crowded and you are not the only one in the store.  There WILL be lines at the registers, for the bathrooms, for food, etc.  You are not entitled to ask others in line if you can go ahead of them.  I was asked this a few years ago by a woman who was huffing and puffing and shuffling around in line because she was mad that she, Queen of the Land of Faux Fur and YSL Bags, had to wait.  She asked me (in a very haughty manner) if she could go ahead of me because she only had 2 items and I had 4.  I gave her my gargoyle stare for many seconds and said nothing.  She slipped back to her place in line, didn't say another word and I'm sure she had nightmares about me that night. 

• If a sales clerk has done nothing to you, or has given you no reason to be a cad, then DON'T.  Trust me, they don't want to wait on you anymore than you would want to wait on them.  This also goes the other way around:  Sales clerks, if I haven't been rude to you, don't be rude to me.  Thank you.

• Lastly...baby strollers that are 6 feet wide.  Ladies, if you can't get a babysitter, and you don't have a small "appropriate for tight quarters" stroller, then stay home and do your shopping online.  I don't mean to offend anyone with children, but the monstrous strollers that could double as freight haulers are not befitting for crowded stores.  I was shopping in a small (and I mean S M A L L) gift shop once, and the owner of the boutique posted a sign just outside the door that said "No Strollers Allowed." Of course, an entitled, rude dragon-woman brought her stroller inside because that sign was clearly for everyone but her, and this stroller was so wide it wouldn't fit down the aisles.  As I was looking at some cards, she stood there waiting for me to move out of her way and when I didn't, she started clearing her throat.  I won't repeat what I said to her, but some of the other patrons actually clapped for me.  Woman and stroller swiftly left the store.  Please don't be rude and expect everyone to work around your rudeness.

That is all.  I hope everyone is having a lovely Christmas season so far!  Stay safe out there, and wear chain maille if necessary!

 

--Fortuitous Observer

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The Best Buy "Game On" Christmas Ad - Disrespecting Santa!

Is anyone else irritated by the "Game On" Best Buy Christmas commercial disrespecting Santa?

Seriously. I am 42 years old and I still want to believe in Santa and this ad annoys me, especially the "mom" haughtily disrespecting Santa!  I want to punch her in her face (wow, there is some Christmas spirit...yikes, I need to cut down out the caffeine).

I'm not even going to bring out my ladder so I can climb up on my soap box because I don't want to get all riled up during the holiday season because I'm in too good a mood for that, but shame on you Best Buy.

This commercial is just one more reminder of our sad pathetic culture, where a company focuses on selling to those "moms" (don't get me started on the ridiculous, mush-for-brains swim moms in our neighborhood...I'll save that for the summer opening of the swim club pool down the street) who are out to "best" everyone else, even Santa.

 

Dear Santa,

I am so sorry you've had to witness this lame excuse for a commercial.  Please don't feel you have to stop at the homes of those "people" who know longer feel you are needed and they can out do you.  I need you Santa!

 

--Fortuitous Observer  

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