I often get ideas for new blogs; today I felt like I could write a series titled, Old Ladies Behaving Badly . "Kids these days!&quo...

Old Ladies Behaving Badly

Tuesday, March 31, 2015 , , ,

I often get ideas for new blogs; today I felt like I could write a series titled, Old Ladies Behaving Badly.

"Kids these days!" you hear it said all the time.

Sander was participating in another one of those paid studies, and this time he not only did the focus group but the people came to our home. I've done more paid studies than he {in fact, just last week I gave Spice Islands my two cents about their new product packaging}, but he always gets the ones where they interview you at home. {And those ones pay twice as much.} Also, we're hosting Easter this weekend and our toilets needed cleaning and here I was, with fancy focus group interviewers coming to our home to talk to us about smart home plumbing and I was fresh out of Clorox wipes.

I don't approach toilets without Clorox wipes. Period.

So I zipped over to Family Dollar because, even though I hate that store, it is the closest thing to us and no busy streets are involved in order to get there.

I popped in, snatched up the Clorox wipes, some Fabuloso and carpet sprinkle for good measure, and got in line.

I was only the second person in line, so you'd think I'd get out of that place quickly, right? Well the lady in front of me was about 65-70 years old and she was rocking the giant, leopard print purse, a perm, and a fresh mani pedi with lots of bling to boot. Yeah...you know the type. Stopping another employee to ask if this bottle of nail polish could be described as "wine colored". {It was brown, like poo! Who wants nails like that?!}

She was only buying three things, and so why it took her about 10 minutes to check out is beyond me. Actually, it isn't beyond me. I understand completely that she had to dig through her purse for exact change while ranting about how she hates big purses. She was the type who, once she had paid in exact change, slowly put her wallet back, zipped up the pocket, zipped up the entire purse, stopped to balance her checkbook, took a moment to freshen up, ate a steak dinner, and was finally on her way so that I could be rung up.

Except not, she doubled back in front of me, after leaving the register, cut me off like I wasn't there and pulled the three-pack Ferrererereo Rocher chocolates out of her bag, sat her purse back down and asked the clerk how much they were because she thought they were only 99 cents, were they actually two dollars?

I look to the display of Ferenenaereirdo Rocher chocolates that sits six inches to her left, right in front of my face, as it clearly and boldly said, $1.40, all while the cashier takes the bag, removes the receipt and scans for the price. A long twenty seconds later, "It was $1.40"

Why didn't I just pipe up and point to the price? I don't know. I was trying to be patient.

Finally, it's my turn to pay and leave. So I do just that, in a timely manner, zipping up my purse while walking back to my car. {It's this new thing called multitasking.}

I back my Volvo out and began to make an beeline for the exit of the parking lot, and who pulls out in front of me? That's right, Miss-It-Takes-Me-An-Hour-To-Buy-A-Pack-Of-Falalalalala-Rocher-Chocolates.

I drive behind her, as she is going -5mph {that's right, negative 5mph} toward the exit. She stops about a car length from the exit onto the street. And just sits there.

Practice your patience, Heather. I'm telling myself. She'll move in just a second...any second now...and I'm imagining smart plumbing people from out of town getting a look at my unclean toilet. And we're still working on potty training with Violet so it ain't pretty.

Old Lady Leopard Print rolls down her window, and out of it she tosses the wrappers to the Fartnado Rocher truffles. Gold foil now rolling around the parking lot like tumbleweed. Heaven forbid this lady have to clean her car, better to litter the local parking lot. Exactly, lady. This is a parking lot for an Ace Hardware, a liquor store, and a Family Dollar, not Downton Abbey. There is no maid who will come sweep up behind you.

I'm stunned. And also angry. Who just litters like that?!

I almost, ALMOST jumped out of my car and ran up to her window, thinking I'd pick up her trash and throw it right back into her car while launching into the lecture I give my kids when they throw trash on the floor, the few times they've dared done it. {Something along the lines of, "Am I raising little piggies or little girls???" "Um...[it always takes them a moment] little girls." "That's right! So I will not have my girls turning my home into a pig sty! Where does trash go?" "In the...trash can?" and so on.}

But I've lost my temper at too many strangers in my youth to know it's usually not worth it to run up to old ladies and rant at them about "piggy behavior" and "entitlement" and "do you know what it's like to clean toilets for a family of five and you just litter right in front of me like toilets and parking lots clean themselves?!"

Also, knowing me I would have probably forgot to put the car in park before leaping out of it.

Here's the thing though, she still wasn't moving. I imagined her gobbling up Ferrari Rocher chocolates, licking her manicured brown nails, smacking her lips, all while being perfectly fine with holding up whoever waited behind her. (Me!) It all made me angry. I briefly consider honking my horn at her to let her know--just like at the cash register at Family Dollar--that I was waiting behind her for, like, a million years.

Instead I punched the gas pedal {thankful for once that Justin had insisted on the V8 model when we were car shopping} and squealed around her still stagnant car toward the exit where a very kind motorist promptly waved me into traffic in front of her. I waved a thank you back, but not before noticing that I was being presented with a nicely manicured, 65-70 year old middle finger in my rear view mirror.

I am laughing now, believe you me.

At the stoplight, I saw Justin had texted me to ask if I could pick up up a burger from McDonalds for him. Fair enough, as we are low on food and time and he'd had a busy day, even though what I really wanted to do was get home and clean toilets. {Said no one ever.}

I rushed through the drive-thru and couldn't help but notice that the two teenage boys who took my money and gave me my order were super polite and friendly.

SO you know, what they say about kids these days isn't always the truth.

I'm mostly just amused, and since I've come to understand that some of my readers will read my rants as more ranty than I mean them to be, please know I'm mostly just shaking my head with a smile and also feeling guilty that I saw trash on the ground but didn't stop to pick it up. Grannies these days...

The interview with the smart plumbing surveyors went well, even if they didn't bother to compliment my sparkling toilet. Also, they purposely set off our Nest fire alarm while Paxton was napping and I didn't kick them out of my house for it. {You're welcome, smart plumbing people.}

What is smart plumbing anyway? Apparently our future holds things like apps for our sprinkler systems as well as shower heads that know if you haven't showered in three days. Tsk tsk tsk! #thereisanappforthat

Finally, and for the record:
1. Littering is disgusting.
2. I really do like all the old ladies I know.
3. I admit that lack of patience is one of my worst flaws.


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  1. This could be a story plot on Modern Family. Not even kidding! I choked on my coffee reading about the perfectly manicured middle finger. Heather, you are hysterical!

    Enjoy your clean toilets :-)


    1. Really!? You're too kind. I'm glad you "get" my type of {nerdy} humor. ;-)

  2. Haha, I can't believe the Old Lady gave you the finger! ;)
    Laughing hard at Ferenenaereirdo Rocher :-D

    Inviting you to share some posts with our Link Up Party - Idea Box:



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