I’m not in a very good mood right now. David and Cameron seem hell-bent on self-destructing for the remainder of the school year. Every time I see a 556 phone prefix on the caller ID, or an e-mail pop up from someone at their school I want to just close my eyes and ears and say “Nuhnuhnuhnuhnuh…I can’t hear you, I can’t hear you.”
My conversation with David about doing some more reading to bring up his Accelerated Reader (AR) points went something like this. David is all, “Mom, there are NO more good books on the list, I’ve read them ALL,” And I go, “The list is like 20 pages long, there has to be something on there you can read.” And he’s like, “No, everything on there is STUPID, there’s nothing interesting. Plus we don’t even have library time today.” So I’m just, “Well, I guess you’ll have to read something that’s not interesting from your classroom.” Then David goes, “I don’t want to read something that’s BORING! Next year we don’t even have AR, we just do book reports.” And I’m like, “So you’ll still have to READ the book to do a book report. It won’t be the last time in life you have to read something that you don’t want to read.” And he’s all, “There aren’t AR points in life.”
Glad the message got through to him.
And when I picked up Cameron from school (Yeah, he was suspended from the bus for a week for trying to be cool like the big kids and running his mouth.), I wasn’t too thrilled to have to discuss with him yet another e-mail I’d received from his teacher about him being distracted and unfocused, and what measures we’re going to take to solve the problem.
Needless to say when the seemingly fruitless conversation spilled over into our trip to the grocery store, and after listening to Cameron whine because I wouldn’t buy freeze pops, fig newtons, or neon-colored yogurt, by the time I got to the checkout I wasn’t maybe as chipper as the cashier thought I should be. Don’t get me wrong, I was polite. I’m always polite, just maybe not too smiley or feeling very chatty. I’m not sure if he sensed this and was trying to go the extra mile to please me or if he’s just always this annoying.Cashier: “Good afternoon, ma’am.” Me: “Hi.” Cashier: “How are you today?” Me: “Good, thanks.” Cashier: “Find everything you needed today?” Me: “Yep.” Cashier: “Do you have any coupons?” Me: “Yes, here you go.”
I started to bag my items while trying to monitor Cameron, who was off exploring the lottery ticket machine, the Chanhassen Storm merchandise, the bin of play balls, and the Rug Doctor rentals. I didn’t know I was about to play an excruciatingly painful game of Twenty Questions.Cashier: “Do you have any items under your cart that you need me to ring up?” Me: “What? Oh. No.” Cashier: “Do you have any coupons?” Me: “Uh, I think I already gave them to you.” Cashier: “Oh, oops, you’re right. I’m not paying attention. Was everything satisfactory today?” Me: “Yeah, fine.” Cashier: “Are there any other items you need?” Me: “I don’t think so.” Cashier: “Are these yours?” Me: “No.” (They’re behind the grocery spacer. Duh. No one violates the sovereignty of a grocery spacer border.) Cashier: “Do you have any concerns or complaints?” Me: “Um…no?” (Specific to groceries? Or just in general? If so, how much time do you have? If about our little interaction here, other than the fact that you won’t shut the fuck up and let me pack up my grapes and hot dogs in peace, no.) Cashier: “So none of these items here are yours?” Me: “No, those aren’t mine.” (No means no, pal.) Cashier: “Did you find everything you needed?” Me: “Yes.” (Haven’t we been over this already?) Cashier: “I’ll need you to sign.” Me: “Ok.” (That’s why I’m standing here with the stylus in my hand.) Cashier: “That will be $89.04. Does that sound right?” Me: “Uh, I guess so.” (What am I, Rainman?) Cashier: “Thank you, Mrs. Weiner.” (Deduct 500 points. I despise being called ‘Mrs. Weiner.’) Me: “Sure.” Cashier: “Have a wonderful day.” Me: “You too.” Cashier: “Thank you. Come again.”
I’ve never been so irritated by someone being trying to be helpful.
© Jennifer Alys Windholz, 2011