I can pick the line that will slow down and die every time.
I get behind the old ladies who want to pay their bill with pennies or write out a check in slow hand.
I pick the people who have coupons they expect to have doubled.
I choose the line where something doesn't ring up correctly and we all get to stand around while a hapless bagboy runs to the back of the store to check on the price.
It's a gift and I've spent a good part of my life waiting in these lines.
Sometimes I gripe and groan which makes my husband and children cringe and hide. Often Marc lectures me on being nice.
So the last time I went to the grocery store and found the lady in front of me buying 175 gift cards I tried to be patient.
"I may be a while," she said, looking at my little pile of groceries on the belt.
|Adell's patient grandma|
Pretty long when the cashier has to hand enter every card.
I waited and read the magazines and rechecked my list to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything.
I started to pack up and leave once but the cashier said, "Oh, we're almost done!"
I smiled, still trying to be nice.
She punched in the 175th number and I started to get excited.
That's when the receipts started to print out, one at a time.
I lost the battle. I sighed. I even groaned.
I just can't be nice that long.
So when my husband and I went to the new Dickey's for lunch the other day, I was interested to see Marc's reaction when the ladies in front of us whipped out their two-page list of orders.
Seems they were ordering for the office of 43 people.
Marc sighed and huffed. He groaned and complained loud enough to be heard.
He wasn't very patient at all, not like he's often advised me to be.
Guess it's my turn to lecture.