| Mrs. Murfreesboro: Petty annoyances end with ‘let peace begin with me’ |
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Posted: Sunday, February 1, 2009 7:15 am
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It takes a lot to make me mad. A whole lot. In fact, I have a very high tolerance level.
But a couple of things lately have triggered the ugly inner-self in me.
Recently I was in a grocery store (in another city) in a regular checkout line. A clerk approached me, eyed my basket and said, “I can take you in the express lane.” I said, “I’m not in a hurry,” but he led me to his 15-item or less station. He was efficient and pleasant, and I handed him coupons just before he tallied up my (16-item) order.
I am very frugal but I am not generally a coupon shopper. I learned long ago that coupons cost me more than the savings I reap. For example: My daughter Beth requested a Baskin-Robbins ice cream cake for her birthday. I read the sale ads religiously and two days before buying it spotted a $3 off coupon in the newspaper. I remembered to take the coupon into the store, but the clerks were so pleasant and accommodating that I forgot to use it. I didn’t remember it until I found it two days later. That's why I don’t bother. However, that big brother in the sky who monitors my frequent shopper card (hate them) “sensed” that I hadn't been to his store in a while and mailed me coupons on things I habitually buy to lure me back. I had carried them around for three months and they expired in three days.
Only two of the 25 or so coupons actually applied. I got $1 off my fresh produce (had to buy two extra apples to quality for that) and $1 off soft drinks. I could have had a free bunch of Alstroemeria, but there were none in the store (surprise, surprise). And on this date I uncharacteristically remembered to use them.
As I pulled my card out to swipe my payment, this clerk said “Coupons. I hate coupons. Not only did you have over 15 items, but you used coupons, too.”
Well, I don’t need to tell you that I wanted to jump over the counter and wrap my fingers around his neck. I was minding my own business when HE came along to “help” and then INSULTED me for – well, basically – not honoring his “rules.”
I didn’t jump over the counter. I smiled and didn’t say a thing. I wanted to complain to the manager but when you’re married to the mayor, you don’t make waves (even in another city). You just smile and act nice.
In retrospect I think he was trying to be cute and make chit chat. He did not accomplish that goal.
On another occasion I lingered in a seafood aisle, trying to decide whether or not to purchase king crab legs for a son-in-law who loves them. Even on sale, they are very expensive, so after having debated for about 10 minutes I bit the bullet and put them in my cart. When I checked out the clerk said to me, “I can’t believe you’re paying that much for those.”
I wanted to choke her, too, but I didn’t say a thing.
I’ve thought about both instances a lot lately, and I’ve decided that it’s me who needs to change. People are people, and we’ll never all fit in the same mold. I need to stop letting petty things like these make me mad. One person’s insult is another’s conversation.
So I pledge to be more tolerant and practice what I sing at church, “… and let it (peace) begin with me.”
‘Til next week
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