What's an "asshole"?
There are many things that drive me nuts. Lack of sleep. Sarah Palin. Stupidity in all (un-comedic) forms. But what really sets me off are Things That Don't Make Sense. Many things fall into this category (jars that won't open, logic puzzles) but what really chaps my hide is idiocy. Take, for example, yesterday's trip to the post office. It seemed uneventful enough - I needed stamps, they have them - until I tried to pay. The large, bespectacled woman sat behind the counter, eyeballing my credit card.
"I can't read this," she said, examining the signature with the intensity of a border guard.
I apologized, assuming that my signature had rubbed off, but it was fine.
"Your handwriting, miss. I can't read it. I need another piece of ID with your signature on it."
I should have just left. I should have turned around and taken Will to another post office or come back when she was off duty. But... no.
"Um, I don't have anything else with me. Can I just write my signature on a piece of paper so you can compare the two?"
"Miss, I need to see another piece of information with your signature. This signature is not legible."
"Um, I don't know what to tell you. That's my signature. It's never legible."
"I understand that, miss. But since I can't read it I'm not allowed to accept this."
That's when things started to get ugly. I have a very short fuse with Things That Don't Make Sense. Pair a Thing That Doesn't Make Sense with a Person Who Refuses To Listen, and you've got a recipe for world class shit fit.
"What do you mean you're not going to accept it?"
"If I can't read it, I don't have to take it."
"It's a SIGNATURE."
"Yes, and it isn't legible."
Another thing about Things That Don't Make Sense - I feel an intense need to make the person understand why it doesn't make sense. And if that fails - if, say, they simply refuse to use the one brain cell God gave them... Well then. Make way for Superbitch.
"Let me explain", I said, warming up. "Signatures aren't like printing. They're called 'signatures' because they're unique to the individual. Often they are hard to read which is why they have you print AND sign -"
"I know what a signature is, miss."
"Mmm, apparently you don't." (Superbitch was on a roll.) "If I produce another piece of ID it will be just as difficult to read as the one in your hand because my signature doesn't change from card to card. You understand that, right? Because I'd be happy to explain it again."
Seriously, don't mess with Superbitch. She don't play.
I could have gone on (Superbitch has been known to make hour-long appearances in drug stores. Matt calls my temper tantrums "Rite Aid moments") but then I remembered that Will was in the stroller. Not to go all Afterschool Special, but it definitely gave me pause. This kid is going to learn how to be a human by modeling himself on me. Petty, shallow, grumpy me.
So I apologized. I apologized for losing my temper and arguing when she was just doing her job. I ate that proverbial crow and it tasted like butt - but I did it. And if I have to, I'll do it again.
Or maybe next time I'll just leave the kid at home.
Anybody else lost it in front of your kid? Care to tell the tale?