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And now to play Santa's advocate:

Let's say this mixer woman has a mother. Let's say her mother has spent this woman's entire life critizing every little thing she did, said, and purchased. And let's say this woman's mother asked for a licorice-colored mixer for Christmas because she just re-did her kitchen and NOTHING ELSE WOULD DO except the exact color for which she was asking.

Let's say the woman's mother said to her, "Now, Kitchenaid makes the only licorice mixer in existence, and it's the ONLY THING THAT WILL MATCH in my new kitchen, so it has to be licorice." Let's say that while she is saying those words, her grown daughter feels about 5 years old, because her mother's pursed lips show that she doesn't believe her daughter is going to be able to get her this ONE SIMPLE THING, EVEN THOUGH IT'S ALL SHE ASKED FOR, without screwing it up.

Let's say this grown daughter would rather strangle her mother than go out to a damned mall a couple of days before Christmas and look for this fucking mixer, and why can't it just be black, for fuck's sake? But if she gets ANYTHING that doesn't have "licorice" on the side of the goddamned box, she am going to hear about it until approximately Memorial Day.

And so, imagine her frustration at having to have this inane fucking conversation with the store clerk about onyx versus licorice, while her face gets hot with shame because everyone behind her is impatient and she knows she's holding up the line and she is going to KILL her mother for this.

Not that I have a mother like that or anything. Nope, just a hypothetical...

Happy Merry, Charlie. :)


Catherine -

Nice try. And possibly true.

And in that case, what she should buy her mother is commitment papers. And possibly some for heself as well.


Merry Christmas Charlie!


LOL...great story. I fucking hate this time of year. I love being with loved ones and exchanging gifts and having dinner at your house, etc. But it seems to me that people's neuroses and fears and tics get magnified 400X around now...nobody acts nicer; they act more insane! I almost got rear-ended by an 80-yr old handicapped woman who couldn't wait 30 fucking seconds to get into her handicapped parking spot. I almost got rear-ended by an SUV whose driver decided I wasn't rushing to the red light fast enough.
What is the fucking hurry, people?
Phew...thanks for letting me share. I was out this morning, can you tell?


Trust me, Catherine, there was no pathology involved with purchasing the mixer. First off, she was 900 years old, so I assume her mother is dead. Secondly, she had a stack of things she was going to "purchase" that she abandoned because of the mixer.

As someone who's spent more than her fair share of time in retail, I'll tell you what it is: entitlement and wanting attention. Really.


I don't know why I feel so obstinate about this - maybe because I spent so much of my life judging people - but I feel compelled to say something more. WE JUST DON'T KNOW. We don't know if her husband just died and her brain is addled, or if she has a granddaughter in the hospital. And even if your theory is correct, Cec, how sad is it that this woman gets so little attention in her life that she must get it from a store clerk about a mixer? How sorry for her that makes me feel. I am so lucky to have a life where I have friends and family who will talk to me and spend time with me, particularly since most of my life I was so disagreeable. I'm glad I don't have to monopolize a clerk's time just to get attention.

I managed a record store for 10 years and worked retail for 3 years before that. Right there with ya babe. :)

A final story: one time I was in the grocery story in Delaware, right before a big storm was coming. On the coast, Nor'Easters coming mean that everyone goes to the store and buys everything, much like a snowstorm up here. So anyway, I was in the dairy section and this well-dressed wealthy woman was PITCHING A FIT because they didn't stock the flavor of yogurt she wanted. She so obviously had that huge sense of entitlement, like the world OWED her. I was standing there watching as she went up one side of the dairy manager and down the other. He was keeping his cool really well, considering she was actually calling him names and being really nasty. "Only strawberry (or whatever) will do!"

I stood there thinking, there's a woman who has never had any real problems, who has had everything handed to her her whole life, and I was kind of bitter, like, how can she be such a raving bitch when she has nothing to worry about in her life, and I don't know how I'm going to pay my rent this month?

Then the woman just started sobbing. Like a switch was thrown, from screaming to sobbing. The manager, who apparently has had some experience with emotional women, patted her arm and asked if everything was all right. She said, "I am so sorry. I am so sorry. My son is only 16 and he has leukemia. He's so sick from the chemo that the only thing he can eat is this one kind of yogurt, and I have to have it in the house for him, or he doesn't eat, and he's so sick." Oh god. I felt so fucking horrible for everything I had thought about this woman, for my judgement. And ever since then, I've tried to remember that I probably don't know the whole story.

And even if everything I've said is complete bullshit and this woman was just a damned old bitch, imagine how unhappy her life is, and how few people want to hang out with her. I'd rather have my life, wouldn't you?

Sorry to be so preachy, I think it's a combination of the PMS and the holiday season. Merry Christmas. :)


That's very sad. But that lady with the blender was just being a pain for the fun of it. She wasn't upset or angry; just whiny and demanding. Very different.

I won't stop judging people until the day I die. It's too much fun!

Besides, I'd just spent the day with the woman in my store that called artists "stupid".

Some people are just assholes.


Catherine -
Ah the old leukemia ploy. Not buyin' it. I had a buddy who found a wheelchair and used it to panhandle on the corner, claiming he was a Viet Nam vet.

By the way, you don't don't hafta agree with every post. And I don't hafta recant my position. That's the beauty.

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