Okay, before I launch into this story I need y’all to understand somethings. I’m bat shit crazy, but I’m bat shit in a super loving sort of way, not a ‘cut your ass’ sort of way. I’m generally pretty mellow about most things unless you hurt one of my loved one. I also genuinely believe in trying my hardest to be a good person. I believe being a good person is the most important thing I can do in life. I may never write anything that sells a single copy or doing anything remotely interesting or considered important by other people’s standards, but I do want to leave this place better than when I slid into it angry and covered in ick.
This belief generally means trying my best to be kind. I catch myself thinking unkind things all the damn time, but then I go back and correct myself in my head. Our thoughts become our words, and our words affect our world. It also means meeting a lot of bullshit with a smile and kindness. I know when I’m in a bad mood its because I’m tired, hurting, or sick, and so when I run into a person who is being totally foul, I try to react with empathy. A lot of times a smile and a compliment can do a lot to lift someone’s mood. It’s not always easy, and sometimes the best I can muster is just ignoring the person. Sometimes, when the person’s attitude is really terrible I go even further to be kind. Disney movies have taught me that nasty people are often the most wounded. A lot of times it works.
Sometimes, though, I really learn how bad of a person I truly am.
Tonight, I drove into town to pick up things for my sick mother. I decided to pick up food on my way home. The Viking wanted food from one place and a drink from another. I didn’t agree to go to both places because I’m a good person; I agreed because it’s his birthday weekend and I want to store up points for a day when I need some soft serve from OnCue and want him to pick it up for me. The line at the first place was ridiculous, but I survived it relatively unscathed.
The line at the second place it stupid long and slow. I’m waiting through it just to get a $1.09 Coke. (I really wanted some salted caramel pretzel frozen yogurt karma points.) This place had two lanes, and one lane had a shorter line. I gave the Range Rover in front of me about 4 minutes to take the place then I pulled up. I try to be nice and not get competitive about inconsequential things but not moving into a shorter line is just wasteful. I got to the speaker minutes before the Range Rover and order my soda.
Normally, one lane orders and that car goes first, then the next lane orders and they stack like that. Tonight, the procedure was messed up because of some sort of massive delay, and my order was in about 3 minutes before the Range Rover, making me in line before her, so I pulled forward and continued to wait a crazy amount of time. Somewhere in there, the Range Rover lady decides to start screaming at me.
RR- “Your going to get my order.”
Me (desperately trying to stay calm because this shit really doesn’t matter)- No, I ordered a while before you, so my order is next.
RR- No, that’s not how it works! They take one lane then the other!
At this point I bite my tongue. I know if I try to explain to her staggering only works if orders are taken in the same time frame, my voice will sound super condescending causing her to claw my eyeballs out. Seriously, screaming at someone at a drive through about who cut who in line is not exactly rational behavior. RR then yells something at me and makes a hand gesture. I inform her I would move if I could but I can’t because of the person behind me.
While I’m waiting for my turn to give the person my one dollar and nine cents for the single soda I have ordered, I think about why someone would act that way. I decide she is probably having a horrible night, so when I get up to the window, and guess what, it was my order *GASP*, and I pay for the woman’s order, all like $26 dollars of it. While I pick up my soda, I hear the woman bitching about how I probably got her order then I see her bitching out the kid at the second window. I pull forward, lean out my door, and yell at the top of my lungs, “I paid for your dinner because you seem to be having a bad night. Merry Christmas.”
Let me interpret that with subtext: I bought your fucking dinner because you are being such a raging bitch that you must be having a bad night. Merry FUCKING Christmas, you miserable hag!
I fail at being a good person AND not getting into yelling matches in fast food parking lots. At least I came away with a funnier story than her.