NTKOG #3: The kind of girl who elbows past someone in line, cruelly and without remorse.
I am: polite and hesitant in ordering-etiquette situations. I’m the kind of girl who will silently skulk around the tail of a messy, scattered line and doesn’t complain if some self-important jerk muscles his way in front of me.
I am not: that self-important jerk.
The Scene: Bruegger’s Bagels, Sunday morning, near my sister‘s apartment. I sneaked out while she was still sleeping to pick up breakfast, then was confronted with a winding mile-long line. I work my way to the front and order a half-dozen assortment. In front of me are an older Asian woman, ordering an egg sandwich, and a cute blonde wearing last night’s party dress who apparently decided to interrupt her 1pm walk o’ shame for a turkey bagelwich.
The bagelista hands me my bag well before the women before me have received their sandwiches. The line is long enough that their sandwiches absolutely will be made by the time they make it to the register. Clearly line etiquette declares I should wait. But instead, I stride past both women and take their places in line, standing a bit too close to the person in front of me, so my ill-gained position cannot be usurped.
After a moment, the Asian woman receives her sandwich, then looks at the line. Without even pausing, she steps to my side, wedges her elbow in front of me and thrusts it back and forth, jimmying me out of line. Well played, madam.
The walk-of-shamer, on the other hand, looks at me standing in front of her and sighs audibly two or three times, venting an icy jet of angst-sigh all over the back of my neck. I stand firm and choose a tub of cream cheese.
The Verdict: It all went to hell. First, while the Asian woman was ordering her coffee, between her uncontrollable stutter and aggressive facial tics, it became clear that she had some form of Tourette’s. Nice job, dude, cutting in line in front of someone with a disability!
Then, once I’m done with my interaction, I’m trying to jam my change back into my wallet while figuring out how to juggle a full bag of bagels, tub of cream cheese, vitamin water and large soda with no lid. It’s time for walk-of-shamer to ring up her turkey sammie, but I can’t get my stuff together to clear off the counter.
Walk-of-shame: “Maybe you should be more prepared next time, huh?”
Ouch. My fuckin’ heart. Zero stars, F minus minus minus, WOULD NOT CUT AGAIN. Clearly the amoral jerkery cannot be worth saving like thirty seconds in your morning.
On top of which, I was so flustered that I ended up grabbing the wrong flavor of cream cheese.
{ 1 trackback }
{ 2 comments… read them below or add one }
That *would* have to happen to you, that the one time you try this dastardly deed, you get zinged into destruction. I guess it was doomed to failure since you were still The Kind of Girl Who Cares What Strangers Say About Her.
Dude, babe, you sell me short! Caring what people say about me I could take or leave. What I really am is The Kind of Girl Who Doesn’t Want to Be an Outright Bastard With A Sparsely Attended Funeral. Which rules shenans like line-cutting right out.