I’m one of those tedious personalities who believes in time management and efficiency. Given the slow pace of life in South Florida, I am usually impatient, but on a bad day I am frantic. This happened recently when I was running late for an afternoon flight and I still had to get my dry cleaning, stop at the drugstore and go to the Vet’s office to pick up some medication for the cat.
The girls at the dry cleaner had been to a party the night before and, while I waited, were detailing the party’s highlights for the owner’s wife, who had not been there. Ignored, I shifted from one foot to the other. I jingled my car keys. I cleared my throat. Finally, I said, “Excuse me?”
The cashier came to the counter in slow motion, got my laundry ticket and went to the conveyer belt. She pushed the button and as the clothes spun around at warp speed, she kept chatting. Eventually she stopped the belt, possibly at random, and told me she could not find my clothes. Eighteen minutes later the owner’s wife said, “Why, they were right here the whole time!”
Next I went to the Vet’s office where the staff was debating the merits of cats versus dogs. This debate was extensive, and I kept looking at my watch and clearing my throat. Grudgingly, the receptionist asked what I needed, and she went to get my cat’s medications. She came back empty handed. “The doctor needs to see you,” she said.
This was not a good sign. It must have been a slow day at the clinic because today the vet tried to sell me complete dental services for our 3 cats, approximate cost $750. I’ve never considered feline dentistry to be an impulse purchase, so I told the vet “maybe later” and fled. I had less than an hour before I had to leave for the airport.
At the drugstore, I only needed travel size toothpaste. The fat lady in line in front of me had a can of Pepsi and a bag of potato chips, but then the clerk said “How’s your boy doing?” and the fat lady launched into a detailed evaluation of her son’s shortcomings, which were plentiful. Eventually, as the people in line began to mutter, the fat lady dug out her wallet and proceeded to count out $2.32 in coin, which she dug of the depths of her purse one dime at a time.
On the road again, it occurred to me that I was starving so I pulled into the drive-thru for a late lunch and, miracle of miracles, there was only 1 car ahead of me.
Unfortunately, the driver had apparently never been to a McDonald’s before and she stared at the reader board for long minutes before she began negotiations. She wanted a coke with no ice and a burger with no catsup. When she was asked if she wanted fries, she got confused and had to call someone to ask. I was about to leave but discovered, too late, that there were cars behind me and I could not get out of the line.
By now my blood pressure was spiking; I ordered a cheeseburger and diet coke but the price was garbled, so I drove to the window and asked, “How much?” and the cashier said “$3.72.” I grabbed 3 singles from my wallet and was digging in the car’s coin holder for 3 quarters when I heard the cashier clear her throat. “I need your money,” she said, “you’re holding up the line.”