We’re all the same at the grocery store, aren’t we? I always thought so, until…
I gathered a week’s worth of groceries in my shopping cart and headed for the only line that was open in my neighborhood store. Oh, sure, there was the 10-items-or-less line off to my left, but my cart was full.
A tall woman in her fifties was in line ahead of me, and one other person was ahead of her. The cashier appeared to know what he was doing so the wait wouldn’t be too awfully long. When I got home I could-
“You can go to that line,” the tall woman in front of me said, interrupting my thought. I looked to the left where she pointed but could only see the crowded 10-items-or-less line.
“I’m fine here, thank you,” I said.
I got out my list to double-check I hadn’t forgotten any items. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the woman studying me, so I did what any normal human would do. I looked up at her.
“You should move to that line,” she said firmly, again pointing to the 10-items-or-less line.
“Can’t,” I replied, pointing to my cart. “I have too many items.”
“Do it anyway,” she insisted, “it’ll be fine. I know the manager.”
“I wouldn’t be comfortable.”
“You should go!”
“I’m staying here. You go if you want.”
The tall woman turned away from me for several seconds, moved her cart a few inches further in line, then, her voice dripping with disgust and frustration, turned back to me to say, “This line is for housewives only!”
From that moment on her back was a wall, straight and stiff. But unlike most walls this one radiated a deep and disturbing disapproval.
I have no clue who or what she thought I was, except that she had decided it was her responsibility to let me know how unwelcome I was.
People can be very strange, can’t they?