My Biggest Flaw
Today I mentally reshuffled my list of flaws to put lack of patience at the top. My husband would most likely argue that I shouldn’t single this one out as the worst of the lot, but I think my kids would agree with me.
This reorganization started because of my errand running this morning. I resent errands. I get so little free time for myself that I resent giving one extra minute to something like picking up the dry cleaning. I have exactly 2 hours, 3 days a week to do whatever I want. Today I wanted to watch television. Yes, unashamedly watch television. (Don’t judge, I could have lied and said I wanted to read a book.) But first, I had to earn this right by going to the grocery store and post office.
First stop, the grocery store, only a few items to buy, in and out. I get to the dairy section for my son’s yogurt smoothies and don’t you know there are no vanilla flavored ones which are the only ones he will drink. I peer around strawberry and peach, but no vanilla. I find someone donning a store apron and ask if he would mind checking in the back to a reply of “I don’t work in dairy.” I’m thinking, “Really? Do you have to be dairy certified to look in the back?” I decide to skip it before I start working myself up. My son’s complaining later about not having any smoothies will be worth the time I’m going to lose trying to find the dairy expert.
Next stop, the deli counter. Yea, only one customer ahead of me, but she was apparently ordering for her seemingly 27 family members. "Anything else ma'am?" "Yes, can I have a pound of smoked turkey?" "Anything else ma’am?" "Yes, can I have ¾ lb. of yellow American?", etc, etc… The lone deli worker was shockingly moving like she just woke up from a coma. I could already feel my eye beginning to twitch as I casually glanced at my watch. Finally, Genoa in hand I head for the check-out, grabbing apples and ketchup along the way. One line open, but it’s my lucky day as there is only one person in front of me (not that that worked out at the deli, but I’m trying to stay positive). As I get closer my hopes sink as I hear, "Hi Helen, how you doin’?" "Good, good and you?" "Great, how are the kids?" "They’re fine, and yours?" blahblahblahblah, ARE YOU KIDDING ME? The lady behind the register is yakking it up with this customer which would be fine if her hands were moving at the same rate as her mouth. And just as expected a price check, of course a price check. To cap it off, the customer pulls out a checkbook. Who in 2010 carries their checkbook around? Seriously? Didn’t AmEx replace the checkbook? As I run from the store I check the time and realize I am definitely behind schedule and my anxiety is mounting. It’s now 9:32am but the post office opened at 9:30am so how many people can be there? I’ll surely make up some time.
The words "post office" and "make up some time" should not be used in the same sentence. At exactly 9:36am I was 10th in line and it is immediately apparent to me that they work from the same handbook as the grocery store because there was one woman behind the counter. AGGGHHH!!! TV time slipping away, slipping, slipping I tell you. I am then subjected to the monotony of the postal customers with their postal problems. "I’m here to pick up my package." "Do you have the slip that was left in your mailbox?" Have the slip lady, please have the slip!! "Yes." YEA, she has the slip!!! The postal worker goes to the package closet, as if in slow motion, and pulls out a keychain with about, oh, let’s say 300 keys on it and tries about 10 before she gets to the one that opens the closet. It’s like I’m in a reality show. It’s now 9:43 and the customer glut hasn’t even been reduced by one. I can feel the hair on my neck starting to raise. I’m SURE at this point that if I crawl over the counter I can figure out in less than 2 minutes how to run the postage meter and crank out the rest of the customers and then serve myself as well, but the likelihood of my getting arrested if I do this are keeping me from it. Although, if I got arrested I’d have a better chance of watching TV in my jail cell than standing here, so I’m not going to take it off the table just yet. The next few customers mercifully have relatively simple postal needs until the one right before me. All my hopes and dreams of mindlessly watching my DVR’d "The View" and "Live with Regis and Kelly" are dashed as I listen to this most annoying of all exchanges…potentially in my life.
Postal worker: "How do you want to send this package?"
Annoying postal customer keeping me from TV (APCKMFTV): "In the mail."
Postal worker: "No, I mean standard first class mail, express mail, overnight?"
APCKMFTV: "I need it to get there quickly."
Postal worker: "How quickly? Express mail will get it there in two or three day."
APCKMFTV: "I pick two days."
Postal worker: "We can’t guarantee it will get there in two days. That’s why we say two or three days."
APCKMFTV: "But you said two or three days, so two is one of the choices. I pick two."
Postal worker: "No, I’m sorry, it’s not really two OR three, it’s two to three. It can take up to three days."
APCKMFTV: "So why don’t you say up to three days instead of two or three days?"
Postal worker: "It’s sort of implied because it could get there in two days, but it can take three days."
This can’t be a real conversation, you tell yourself. It was. I am sparing you the end of this exchange mainly because the details are fuzzy after I heard a snap at the center of my cranium. I made my escape at 10:04am a completely defeated errand running victim. By the time I got home, I was left with well less than an hour before I had to get back in the car and retrieve my youngest from pre-school.
Two freaking errands which should have taken 15 minutes total stole my morning and put more than a few grey hairs on my head. In the car on the way out of the post office parking lot, I was conscious enough to laugh at myself because these situations seem to happen to me all too frequently. Huh, that’s it, they happen to me all too frequently. Yes they do because, it’s called life and that’s what happens. And it’s not the other people it’s how I react to the other people, right? Doesn’t that sound easy? Why can't I just let things roll off my back? Why can’t I just say, "isn't that nice that the grocery clerk and Helen are friends and they’re taking a few extra minutes to chat" instead of it literally giving me an ulcer? Why does the deli lady at the counter make me want to throw something at her instead of me thinking how lucky I am to be at the deli counter without my kids hanging on me which would be far more annoying?
I had a friend say to me once that she was waiting for her real life to start. I swear I've thought of that quotation almost every day since then. I'm not really a gushy person, but isn’t that the crux of it? If you're like me (and I am so sorry if you are), you probably have little patience because you’re too busy looking forward to what’s happening next instead of focusing on what's happening now. It's my life's torture and it’s only my fault.
My best example of this for me is getting a massage. When I win the lottery my treat to myself will be to have a massage every week. But for now, I do it a couple of times a year. I look forward to it like I can't tell you and every single time I ruin it just a little bit. The whole time I spend thinking about other things instead of how awesome the experience is all the while telling myself to stop thinking about other things and enjoy. Then when I realize the massage is almost over I obsess about how little time is left and how it’s going to be a long time before I get another one and so on and so forth. Why can’t I just enjoy the now?
As I write this, I look over at my almost three year-old laughing while he's watching SpongeBob (ok, don't lecture, again I could have lied and said he was looking at a book) and I realize I need to learn from him and his brother and sister. I know none of this is new information to anyone, but it sort of comes into focus for a minute when I really watch him cracking him up at Squidward and he's so into it. Kids live in the moment every single moment. When do we lose this ability? Is it when we get the mortgage? Is it when we have the kids? It's so enviable to see kid's innocence in not letting things get in the way of their lives, but letting the things be their lives. That same innocence is going to allow me to bribe him with an Oreo so I can sneak in "host chat" and it’ll be a win-win for us both.
Author: Shari Dabby
