SOMETIMES OLD PEOPLE SUCK


I respect old people, but the rude ones are hard to like. I'd rather get hit by a train than turn into a rude, miserable OLD person. 

I was at the supermarket buying a pint of strawberries. As I walked toward the checkout line I noticed only one lane was open. There were five people ahead of me. UGH. This was going to take a while. I grabbed a magazine and started flipping through it. Ten minutes passed. Why isn't the "12 items or less" lane open? Four more shoppers stepped in line behind me. One of them was an old woman with coupons and a checkbook and a carriage full of shit. 

The woman was talking out loud to anyone who would listen. "Where did I put the Palmolive coupon? It's a double coupon!"

She was frantic about the damn coupon. She blamed a little boy for stealing it. He started crying and looked all over the floor for the coupon but couldn't find it.  The boy's mother politely explained to the old woman that her son did not steal her coupon. I looked at my watch and realized ten more minutes had passed. The old woman started complaining about the long line. She wanted to get home in time to watch "Oprah." The sound of her voice was so irritating it made me want to puke on her. She started yelling at the cashier to call a manager to open another register. The cashier ignored her so she told the man behind her to find someone to open another lane. Suddenly I felt a push from behind. The old woman was pushing her carriage into me! As usual, when someone bumps into me I end up apologizing to them. (Don't ask.) I said, "I'm sorry! I must be in the way." I tried to move forward but I couldn't. The person in front of me was still unloading her items. The old hag pretended she didn't hear me. She continued to complain out loud about her stolen coupon. I felt like telling her to drop dead. Maybe she'd find her coupon in Heaven. My anxiety was building. I became claustrophobic and started sweating. "This SUCKS," I thought to myself. Was my craving for strawberries worth this SHIT? Not to mention the price! Six bucks for 12 strawberries. (I counted them) Five of them (the bottom ones, of course) were mushy, in the "pre-mold" stage. The carriage bumped into me again. It took HEROIC effort on my part not to SHOVE THE OLD LADY INTO THE CANDY DISPLAY. The thought of it made me laugh, then feel guilty. Was it normal to have thoughts like that? I made a mental note to ask my therapist during our next session. 

"May I help the NEXT person in line please?"

THANK GOD! A new cashier appeared two lanes over. Everyone with half a brain KNEW I was the next person in line, and surprisingly, no one tried to jump ahead of me. Except THE OLD BITCH. She looked like an Olympic gymnast the way she HURLED herself over the line of people to get there first.

I was PISSED. 

All I had was a pint of strawberries, dammit! She was already unloading her groceries on the counter.  "NO WAY, BITCH!" I thought to myself. It's possible I said it out loud. I was too angry to know the difference. I was NOT GOING TO ALLOW THIS TO HAPPEN. The fumes coming out of my head could've burned a hole through STEEL. Trying to maintain my composure, I gently touched her shoulder and said, "I'm sorry ma'am. I believe I was the next person in line." As I said this, I tried to squeeze by her. She moved her carriage over to block me. (I'm not kidding!) "This is RIDICULOUS!" I thought to myself. "Why do simple things always turn into a nightmare???" At this point, I should've given up and let her go ahead of me. After all, she was an old lady. But she had a MILLION items in her cart! With COUPONS! I'd be here all day! My blood pressure was rising and the sweat was about to overflow from my eyebrows and I knew I was about to BLOW. "I have S.F.I." I blurted out loud. She pretended not to hear me. I repeated, "Hey lady- I just told you, I have SERIOUS FUCKING ISSUES. You'd better get out of my way." She pushed me with her bony little fingers and said, "I was here before you. Wait your turn."

I could feel the veins popping out of my neck and forehead. I fantasized about grabbing her coupon book and lighting it on fire. Instead, I SHOVED HER HEAD INTO THE CASH REGISTER. 

I'm kidding I'm kidding (although the thought came to mind)

I grabbed the handle of her carriage and pulled it backwards so I could squeeze by. She pushed it forward again. I pulled it back. This went on several times.

A little girl behind us said, "Mommy, why is that girl being mean to Grandma?"

I almost shit my pants.

Life's a BITCH.

I stifled my RAGE and waited another ten minutes to check out.  

Sometimes old people really SUCK.