The oppressive heat of the past month has put a damper on Mrs. HM's sunny Pollyanna outlook on life. I have been a bit cranky(er). I do not suffer fools (Farmer H) nor rumpusholes (everyone else in Hillmomba, apparently, save The Pony and Fave and OT) gladly. While I have been able to refrain cutting them with my sharp tongue, they still bear the slices of my honed typing fingers.
Monday it was 101 actual degrees, with a 115 heat index. Stepping out of T-Hoe was like stepping into an oven. Of course there were rumpusholes illegally parked in my rightful handicap spaces at both places I went. Can't say I was shocked...
At the Gas Station Chicken Store, it was a white minivan. I have no idea who was in it, bereft of handicap plate and placard. I did not notice a specific person in the store, though there were a couple milling around in the back by the coolers. No, my attention was not on this specific rumpushole, but the one who garnered more ire.
I had to park in front of the FREE AIR hose. The sun beating down on that blacktop parking lot was intense as I hobbled around the corner of the building and under the roof over the gas pumps. A man was screwing on his gas cap at a pump. I only noticed him out of the corner of my eye. He was heading towards the door, but I got there first. He was a couple steps behind, as the door I shoved open behind me for him as a favor was not grasped at the time I entered.
I stepped over to stack of beer cases that hold the red-ticket box for the weekly gas drawing, and faced the counter. Obviously waiting my turn. A man was putting his card away after paying.
Rumpushole came through the door. He looked like that actor in Fast Times at Ridgemont High. The customer who wants a refund because it was not the best breakfast he ever ate. The customer who gets Brad fired from his job. (YouTube 1:46). Except he wasn't wearing a suit, just jeans and a t-shirt.
Other Checker looked up to help whoever was next. I pointed to a guy standing by the counter with two sodas sitting in front of him. "He was next." The guy said, no, he was waiting on someone. As I took a step to get to the counter, RUMPUSHOE DASHED IN FRONT OF ME!
"I'm just going to pay for my gas."
He looked at me like, "What are YOU gonna do about it?" Just that kind of challenging look. I gave him the teacher stinkeye, left eyebrow raised. Like, "Seriously, dude? That's a dick move, butting in front of a crippled-up old lady." But neither of us mouthed what our eyes were saying. I shrugged. Not a "Whatever" shrug, but a resigned shrug. A "Can't fight The Man" kind of shrug. Though I would have loved to smack Rumpushole up the side of his balding head.
Rumpushole then turned to belly up to the counter. I was disappointed in Other Checker for serving him. I've seen her put plenty of people in their place, by saying, "There are other people ahead of you, you'll have to wait." Even though she's never done it for ME. Perhaps she mistook my shrug as agreement for Rumpushole to go ahead. Rumpushole paid for his gas and left. He had some kind of accent. Maybe German.
Wow. He must be SO important. IN HIS OWN MIND! Important enough not to wait his turn like a normal person. It's not like there's an express lane for gas only. When you do business at a convenience store, you sometimes get inconvenienced. Unless you make your own rules, of course. He is a prime example of what Genius calls an Antisocial Monster.
I hate it when people say, "I'm JUST going to pay for my gas." (Or ice cream or soda or hemorrhoid cream, heh, heh!) Why not just say what you're ACTUALLY doing! "I'm just going to cut line."
You know, just in case somebody else might think they had permission. Which I would have granted, had he only asked. I've done it for other people even when they DIDN'T ask. I don't like self-important men taking advantage of old ladies.
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