The Lady at Lowes Doesn't Like Me

When Jason was five I bought a home on Old Mill Court in a subdivision on the southwest side of Indy that was built in a weekend.  Tiny thousand-square-foot houses were sprouting up overnight in a cornfield off Mills and Mann Roads that my ex-husband J.J. used to farm.  With just twelve feet separating the homes on our cozy little cul-de-sac, being a considerate neighbor was key; it was also important to not tick off your neighbors.  I see that now in retrospect.

Ticking off my neighbors (and people in general) was not something I set out to do.  It was a side-effect of my self-absorbed cluelessness.  For example, when it was hot, I wore a bikini to cut the grass.  It never occurred to me that would upset all of the married women on the court.  It also never crossed my mind that I should not have blown all the grass clippings into the street and my neighbors' yards. And, when Jason spent Halloweens with his father, I would turn out all the lights in the house, and put "NO TRESPASSING" signs* all over my yard.  In my defense, I was a first-time homeowner.  I didn't know better.  Eventually, I figured it out but by then it was too late.

You know how sometimes when you meet someone new, you instantly don't like them?  No?  That's never happened to you?  Really?  Well,  it's never happened to me either.  I like everyone, especially you.  Who wouldn't like you? I know how wonderful you can be when you try really hard. Sometimes, though, it happens to me in reverse.  For some reason that I have never been able to understand, I am, on occasion, disliked immediately.  This happens before I've had a chance to show people how wonderful I have the potential to be.

Just the other day, while shopping at our new Super Wal Mart in Franklin, my cell phone rang while I was in line checking out.  Not wanting to be rude to the person calling me, I took the call and since I was concerned my caller couldn't hear me, I raised my voice ten decibels.  "HELLO.  OH, HI CINDY!  YES I DID SEE THE BACHELOR LAST NIGHT! OMG! IT WAS UNBELIEVABLE!  CAN YOU BELIEVE SHE DID THAT? WHAT?  SORRY, CINDY! YOU'RE CUTTING OUT.  I'LL CALL YOU LATER!  OKAY! BYE."  

As I was leaving Wal Mart, I thought about how the cashier appeared to dislike me.  Was I imagining it? She didn't even know me.  How could she not like me?  She didn't know how wonderful I have the potential to be. She was nice and chatty to the person who checked out before me, but she was cold, unresponsive, and the smile she showed the previous customer was now gone.

After leaving Wal Mart, I called Cindy back to talk about the latest disgusting behavior on Bridezilla, Toddlers and Tiaras, and The Kardashians.  I was so engrossed in our conversation that I inadvertently ran a red light and pulled out in front of an older couple in a Cadillac while turning left onto Highway 64 on my way to Lowes.  They pulled up beside me, rolled down their window, and yelled mean, hurtful things.  It was obvious they didn't know about my potential.

The lady at Lowes doesn't like me. When she encounters me at the checkout, I always say the same thing, "What?  How could it be that much?  Could you check to see if there has been a mistake?"  Every time she checks, the receipt is correct, but I went in to buy only one box of nails and a few other miscellaneous items,  and the bill is always over $50.  How could that be?

I'm sitting in the drive-thru line at McDonalds and the girl behind Window #1 doesn't like me.  I don't get it.  I'm a nice person.  I'm busy.  I have things to do.  McDonalds has WiFi, which means I can check my emails and write my blog while ordering lunch.  Ever heard of multi-tasking?  My computer is in my lap leaning against the steering wheel, and I am rummaging through the ash tray for all the quarters I can find to pay the bill.  All I need is $.57 more and the only coins left are pennies.  One, two, three, four...just fifty-three pennies to go and I'll be out of her hair.  If only she knew how wonderful I have the potential to be.

five, six, seven, just fifty more pennies to go.  Ping... Oh, hold on, I have a text message.

*Okay,  I didn't really put the signs in the yard.  I used yellow "Do Not Cross" tape.