The Off-Putting, Self-Important Entitlement Of 40-Something Men

Excuse me. Could somebody give my ample rumpus a boost as I climb upon my soapbox? Hey, now! Don't go getting handsy! There's plenty o' rumpus to go around.

My speech is not about a quantity of 40-something men. It's only about TWO of them. Men in their 40s. I encountered them while out and about in Hillmomba on Saturday.

Even Steven is such a prankster.

The first 40-S walked into the Gas Station Chicken Store while I was fourth in line. A man was getting cigarettes and paying with a card at the counter. That takes so long! (Says the gal who cashes in scratchers ever day!)

The next customer was a woman whose husband was pumping gas. They had already paid, but had somehow locked themselves out of their fancy ride, which has keyless entry. I don't understand how those things work. The Pony has it for his Rogue. But the lady said they live 90 minutes away, and would have to borrow a car to drive home for the actual key to get it started. Man Owner suggested Triple A to unlock the car, but she didn't know if they could start it for her. She was just apologizing for blocking the pump for so long.

The next customer was the guy ahead of me, paying for gas and a 32 oz beverage (lightweight!) with cash. I knew I was next. I'd been standing behind him for quite a while, and had seen the 40-S in the red T-shirt come through the door as it made the DING sound. He had been standing on the other side of the aisle, behind where the stalled car woman waited.

As the cigarette buyer left, I stepped up to pay for my magical elixir, and of course trade in my scratchers. As I set my 44 oz Diet Coke on the counter, 40-S pierced my brain with his dagger-eyes. So blatant was he that I back-talked him. You know I rarely do such a thing in public. I don't like to cause a scene.

"I've been waiting for a while. I saw you come in while I was in line. So don't think I'm butting ahead of you."

40-S remained silent, which was the smartest thing he could do. Nobody ever needed a tourniquet for a dagger-eye incident. Surely 40-S knew that he hadn't seen me enter the store since he'd parked himself behind the car locker-outer. Obviously I was there before him.

My next stop was Country Mart. I was third in line there. Ahead of me were two guys who'd been sent to pick up some canning supplies. Some special kind of salt or something. I was shopping near them on the olive aisle. They were waiting on a customer who'd already paid, but had some malfunction. Something had not been charged right, and it involved cigarettes. A manager had to come over with a special card, and it didn't work. So back she went to the service desk.

A 40-Something guy in a faded blue T-shirt was in line behind me. I was leaning on my cart/walker, waving my ample rumpus around, because me right knee was stiffening up from the standing. The cigarette buyer looked at all of us, and said, "Sorry, guys." I'm pretty sure he included me as a guy. I don't blame him for the wait. Cigarette buyers are people, too. We all have our vices.

Anyhoo... a tall blond clerk came out of the service area, and said, "I can help somebody over on 4."

40-S2 shot in that direction as if out of Olympic starting blocks in the 100-meter dash! He was taking no chance on those of us ahead of him getting to that check-out lane before him! Heh, heh! Those Canning Dudes went around the FRONT of the check-out lanes, and came up the wrong way to the register, and BEAT 40-S2! I think I chortled.

As this scenario was playing out, as soon as 40-S2 took off, I muttered, "Sure! Hurry up and get there before the people ahead of you IN LINE get a chance!" I'm pretty sure he heard me. Because as the two Canning Dudes were paying, 40-S2 came slinking back down the main aisle. He went past me. As if he'd forgotten something. Which maybe he had. Serves him right! As I was loading my groceries in the cart, he pulled into line behind me.

Thanks, Even Steven, for helping me be more assertive...