Spare Change Can Buy You Rage

I like to believe I am a tolerant person. In fact, I am . Race, religion, level of physical ability...all these things fade into the gorgeous, grand mosaic of humanity. I'm like Ghandi. However. BIG however. I do not consider douchebaggery to be something we as a people need to accept, all willy-nilly like, as if it's just a cross some people have to bear, like a heart murmur, or a club foot. So when that very special person comes along who makes me wish I were in the second circle of hell instead of in his presence, I'm going to tell you. Yay! I have a blog.

The other day I was in Safeway, picking up a few essentials, and chose the shortest express line in an already fairly empty store. The woman in front of me was questioning her bill, but I had already emptied my basket, and figured she didn't have too many things, so how long could this possibly take to resolve? She insisted on viewing a printout of her receipt BEFORE she would pay, and finally agreed on a total. I'm not sure when Safeway switched to the barter system, but next time I'll bring my crazy skills for debating the relative merits of shaved turkey.

As this woman made a move for her wallet, I breathed a sigh of relief, because someone had at this point put his things on the belt behind mine, so I really couldn't switch lanes without being disruptive and annoying, which, as a rule, I try not to be. Okay, so I at least try not to be annoying. But I digress. As she proceeded to count out 54 pennies toward her $11.54 total, I grimaced with my face down and bit my lip a little. You know, to distract myself from the psychic pain with the physical. Great, 54 pennies counted. Now things will move along.

Only they didn't, internet. I am not making it up when I tell you she then counted out $4 in dimes, with no signs of urgency or of switching to bills at any time in the future. And all this in the EXPRESS LANE.

Yes, I do realize that coins are legal tender. Yes, I realize that people are on fixed budgets and sometimes, every cent counts. In fact, I am also on a budget. Money is often on my mind, and I think very carefully about what I buy. But that doesn't give me the right to be a COMPLETE JACKHOLE and hold up everyone else for (no exaggeration) 10 minutes while spelunking in a backpack for cash. Maybe it was less the incessant counting than the complete disregard for the people behind her, but at this point I wanted to reach over and count out the damn money myself. Ripping the coins out of her hands would have been very satisfying in a very mean spirited way, but I would have savoured it like I do a particularly 80's episode of Glee.

Sadly, I hadn't the time for counting, as at this point I realized I was about to miss my bus, so I rather loudly pushed past her, telling the cashier I didn't have time to keep waiting and would have to leave my items on the belt. The crazy counter did not even acknowledge me, but the cashier did say sorry, though in a voice that suggested I was the bitch in this situation. WTF? Seriously? I'M the crazy one in this waiting for Godot to learn how to count scenario? If there's a look I've perfected in my time on earth, it's definitely my WTF? look, and I gave it mightily as a small consolation.

The moral of the story is this: I'm an impatient bitch and get yourself to a mother f*%^ing bank with your goddamn coins before hitting the store. The End.

p.s. If she had been an elderly woman this whole post would be moot, as I would have dissolved in tears and offered to pay for her, but that's a whole other rant.