Falling Down

Last night at the neighborhood grocery store, I couldn't find the price tag on a loaf of bread initially, so I turned to an old lady behind the deli counter and said, "Excuse me, do you know what the price is for this loaf of bread?" When she turned around, I was a bit startled because her face was really wrinkled and her huge, thick glasses magnified and distorted her eyes to such an extent that she looked like she was wearing a pair of those gag glasses with the fake eyes that pop out at you.

She yelled at me, her voice a mixture of impatience and plain old surliness, "WHY DON'T YOU JUST LOOK ON THE BAG? THE PRICE IS RIGHT ON THERE!! I DON'T KNOW WHAT IT IS!!"

I consider myself a mellow person and I can usually brush off a lot of abuse and move on with a smile. However, when that cranky old hag yelled at me, I felt like I was going to blow up. I had a long day at work because I went to bed at almost 3 am the night before. Of course I slept past my station on the way home, too. And I guess the rudeness and impatience that I endure on a daily basis in this city finally wore out all the laidbackness I had accumulated from living in California for the past 4 years.

I yelled back, "LOOK, IF YOU DON'T KNOW THE PRICE THAT'S FINE. YOU DON'T NEED TO YELL AT ME!!"

She mumbled, "I wasn't yelling at you. I was just saying that I just got here and I don't know what the price is. You can find the price on the bag."

I looked at the bag again and final saw the 99-cent price tag. After I walked out of the store, I had a big, stupid grin on my face. That felt good. Really good.