Friday, November 03, 2006

An irritable sort of morning thus far.

Friday is sort of my favourite day of the week, or rather is should be, but here I am, cranky as cat with a clothes peg on her tail.
You know what I dislike? Rude people and girls who spit.
I really for the life of me this morning cannot decide which of them I would axe kick in the forehead faster.
Dunne Stores in Rathmines-where I was this morning buying fleecy hoodies and slippers- has a stupid system for queueing. It has one long cordened off line directly in front of five checkouts-also in a line. What it needs is a little sign say 'queue starts here' on one side or the other.
Today I reached one end of the line just as a girl reached the other end. We both looked at each other but she smiled and then came down behind me.
'Sorry' says I, 'but you could have been right, I'm not sure which side is the start.'
'That's okay,' says she and we did that polite smile strangers do and waited for the SINGLE Cashier to finish up with his customer.
As soon as he had finished I was about to step forwards when lo, some woman and her lumpy teenage daughter appear from nowhere and wander down the line. The cashier -who is clearly a moron- looks like he might indeed serve them instead of pointing out that a small, yet orderly queue has already formed.
So I did.
'Excuse me, we were queueing here.'I call out politely.
The teenager gives me a dismissive look, the mother pretends like she can't hear me. Maybe I'll give up.
HAH!
'Excuse me! WE were here first!' I say in a very loud and firm voice, a voice that brooks no nonsense and will not be ignored. For good measure I step forward and plonk myself to the right of the cashier.
A stand off.
The mother gives me the eye. My nostrils flare. My eyebrow is acting imperious.
The cashier looks like the bar owner in one of those Westerns when the gun slinger rolls into town and pushes open his swing doors.
The Pianeeeeee stops playing.
Go ahead bitch, make my day.
Her fingers inch closer to the counter, mine tighten on my pink fleece slipper booties, I will use them if necessary.
The tension is palpable.
Then...
'Next there please.'
A second till has been opened, it is behind me. I won't be the one to turn. Oh NO, as God is my witness I won't.
By rights that till belongs to the wooman who was behind me, but I know her type, she won't make a move, and if she doesn't want to defend herself against rustlers that's her look out. Meanwhile more gringos are lining up, their hands bulging with control panal knickers and cheap leather gloves they will lose on buses.
What's it to be Lady? You like that teenager daughter of yours? Will you still like her when I plant one of my heels into the bridge of her shoddily clad feet? Your call.
'Next there!"
She called it. Gathering her things closer to her chest she bustles past me and on to the next till.
Triumphantly I fling my goods onto to the MDF counter.
Victory is mine.
Victory is short lived as the clown working behind the till takes forever to ring up my few items and I wait furiously as little miss queue jumper and her mother clear their things and toddle off.
Argh.
Finally I am free. I mutter grumpy thanks and snatch the brown paper bag from his clumsy fingers. I wander around the Swan Centre for a few brief moments before pushing out into the frigid air...
'Whahahahchchchhchc thweet.'
I stop, stunned as a girl in a brown tracksuit spits on the pavement inches from my feet.
'That's disgusting!" I say.
'So?' she says, giving me the eye.
There's a new gun slinger in town, and this town is only big enough for one of us. I take my pearl handled derringer from my bustier and shoot her in her minging face.
Well, in my head I did.
In reality returned to my home and ate a sausage and a slice of toast.
One battle at a time.

16 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

I occasionally kill people in my head too. And mostly not even for the big things - it's the stuff you described, rudeness and that. Grrr.

1:32 p.m.  
Blogger fatmammycat said...

I think rudeness and bad manners piss me off more than it used too, but the spitting is a very close second. I really really ahte it, and it is so much worse to see a girl do it.
Men who blow snot rockets as they walk along are VERY disgusting too.

1:57 p.m.  
Blogger Andraste said...

Absolutely! Bad customer service, idiots, rude people, and spitting...three things that will sour even the best of Friday mornings. But no matter! The weekend is here, almost, and some lovely plonk is chilling in the fridge. I just have to get through a few hours of this pesky work thing...

2:32 p.m.  
Blogger Andraste said...

Four...FOUR things.

2:32 p.m.  
Blogger fatmammycat said...

I have a South African White chilling in the fridge right this second, and everynow and then I wander in and go 'coo' at it. But like you I'm stuck sober for at lest another three hours. THREE HOURS. Wah.
OH and people in shops who slap your change down on the counter and then start talking to someone else with out even saying thanks get on my very last nerve too. I'm a bitch about it, I always pull them up about it. I'm not expecting an ass kissing, just basic polite behaviour.

2:58 p.m.  
Anonymous Bonnie said...

Call me old-fashioned and a bit of a fuss budget (don't you dare, actually) but I cannot stand having my change, both the paper money and coins, AND the receipt just shoved into my hand! I can almost bear not having the money counted back to you, but pretty soon they'll just start throwing your change into the bag with your purchases!! Arggh!!

4:55 p.m.  
Anonymous eva said...

HAHAHAHA that post had me laughing out loud, I soooo recognized the scenario!! And YES I'm glad to hear somebody else thinking that the check-out set-up at Dunnes Stores' is STUPID. Which eejit came up with that idea!? Good on you girl for standing your ground hahaha!

But as for rudeness in Dublin... well I lived nearly 3 years in Rome and I could tell you some horror stories about rudeness. Italians seem to be genetically incapable of queuing and forget anybody being polite! Aaargh, don't get me started. I desperately need a drink now, nearly the weekend...

5:24 p.m.  
Blogger fatmammycat said...

Bonnie I wouldn't dare cross you.
Jesus roll on indeed. Is anybody else finding this day intolerably long?

5:40 p.m.  
Blogger fatmammycat said...

Oh Rome, Oh Barcelona, them bleedin' latin types bring rudeness up to a whole other level. Especially the old ladies with their shopping trollies, I nearly lost an ankle several times.

5:42 p.m.  
Blogger Dr Maroon said...

“Footie, I have sent you an email. Do have a look at it whenever you get a chance.”
5:46 AM


I think I should be told.

Devastated, of Tunbridge Wells.

9:01 p.m.  
Blogger fatmammycat said...

Sigh, do you want me to send you an email too? Want me to describe to you in detail what I wrote to Footie? And more importantly what he wrote back. It wasn't pleasant, but I can assure you I would do it for you dear heart.

9:11 p.m.  
Blogger Dr Maroon said...

yes

9:39 p.m.  
Anonymous Pinkie said...

That has to be the funniest piece of blogging I have read in ages!

11:14 p.m.  
Blogger Foot Eater said...

Should we include Maroon in the experiment, FMC? Your call.

What the heck is an 'axe kick', by the way? Sounds right up my street.

12:54 a.m.  
Blogger Fat Sparrow said...

"The Kids In The Hall" was a bad influence on me. I still go around pretending to pinch people's heads, while muttering "I'm pinching your head!" It may look crazy, but whatever, it keeps people from bugging me.

Rude is standard here. The sales girls give you dirty looks if you interrupt their important conversations about hair design to (God forbid!) try and purchase something.

Don't even get me started on fast food workers. They just stand there, with their backs to the cash registers, in the hope that you'll go away.

And then there's my neighbor. He actually comes outside of his fucking house, the house that he was just in, to cough and snort and hawk up a big loogie and other assorted phlegmy bodily fluids into his fucking bushes. Right across the drive from my house. Has he not heard of a tissue, or a toilet? Both of which are in his own damned house?! Yuck-o-rama.

3:49 a.m.  
Blogger fatmammycat said...

Fat Sparrow, that is really disgusting. I would hate that man so much. Snot rockets are disgusting. I would be shouting 'Want a fucking bag for that?" at him, and then it might get ugly.
Mornie Pinkie.
I don't know Footie, I had to sleep on it. He seems a romantic sort and I am fond of him, but in truth I don't think he'd handle it the same way you do. Really, to protect Docky, I feel we should shield him and his delicate sensiblilities from such horror. Anyway, I don't really want him thinking I'm that sort of gal, you know?
An axe kick is when you bring your foot straight up and then drop it -like an axe- onto your opposition. Rather OTT really, when a good elbow would probably be more accurate, but sometimes style over substance wins out.

9:21 a.m.  

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