Dear Space non-Invader,
I like you . . . sometimes. I like that when i am in store at the register, your cart is not parked up my ass waiting for me to finish. I appreciate the freedom to be able to get back to the ATM and pay and not feel rushed. It warms my heart to know there are people out there who respect personal space. Please don't take what i am about to say next as an insult that infringes on your kind and generous etiquette, but really we need to come to a happy medium.
I was in Starbucks behind you. I can tell how perky and cute you are, even from behind. You waited patiently while the lady at the counter finished ordering her vanilla no fat double soy latte half dry extra hot. You didn't even bat an eye while I grew increasingly annoyed by her abuse of adjectives and disregard for my time. You see, it was Friday and it was time for my reward. After a long hard work week toiling away at a computer, I reward myself with a $4.86 cup of coffee. I do not need it, I simply want it and driving up High Ridge Road is a ritual to get it. For I know my reward is near and it's officially Friday.
But you, Missy. You! You were being your usual space non-invading self waiting patiently, not putting any pressure on Miss Soy whip to step on it and get her shit together and walk away. My problem with you is not that you were being patient and waiting your turn. Bless your little heart. That is actually a welcome pleasantry in this day and and age of grab, swipe and go. But you were standing so far away from Miss Soy Whip that I wasn't even sure you were in line or just hanging around looking blankly at the board. Like I said, a happy medium. There comes a time when some space is too much and you have to close the gap to avoid the cutters or the questions, "are you in line?" Because you know you are in line and you'll just want to sneer at the poor questioning soul and just say, "no, I just enjoy standing here." You are much too sweet for that no matter how much I think their question was totally warranted.
I used to be you. But now I am the anti-you because of what happened last week. Last week, i was in line at marshal's, which any bargain shopper knows is hell on earth no matter how many people they have working the registers. What good is having every cashier on when 99% of them have to stop what they are doing to get a price on something? And, as you know, most of the crap in Marshal's has no price.
Anyway, i was standing there with two pairs of pants that I wanted. It was my second attempt at buying the brown pair. The first time I tried to buy them, the line was too long and I had PMS. Not a good combination. This time I was determined and saw them still being there nearly two weeks later as a sign that they were meant to go home with me. I get in line and some little boy (whose mom was MIA) got in line behind me. I made the fatal mistake of making eye contact with him. He said, "Hi" and I said, "hello." The line moved amazingly slow like it usually does but I was in a good mood so I didn't mind. I had a $1 movie rental in my purse and new pants that looked great on me draped over my arm. I was at a fair distance behind another customer but apparently, not far enough. The boy started inching his way up, looking at the socks that were along side of me. I inched up. Any closer and the lady in front of me would have been buying my clothes. He inched up too, pretending to read the gift cards that were displayed on the register putting him right in front of me but not directly because I was still close behind. I figured once he was done, he would venture back to his place in line. But he did not. I contemplated saying something but the kid didn't look like he was playing with a full deck and I thought how it might look if i got into a fight with a kid who was not mentally all there ifyaknowwhatImean. The womyn in front of me (who he was now behind) made eye contact with him and he said, "Hi." She did not speak English so she just nodded and turned around. So that was his hook. I let him go because it wasn't worth a scene over but if his mom were there, I'd let her have it.
That is why I am not you anymore, Miss space non-invader. So, the next time you feel rushed at a register or feel the sharp, cold metal of a carriage grazing your ass, it's me. And I wouldn't turn around if I were you.