Previously undiscovered levels of inappropriateness...PART TWO!

Welcome to Part Two of Gwen Has a Stupid Morning Theatre!

I escape the previously mentioned awkward crotch-sniffing situation and head off to Target, feeling pretty good. It isn't as though the day is going to get worse, right?

Of course it can.

I pull into the Target parking lot. It's empty but for what seems like the few cars of the people who work at the stores in the plaza. There is a car ahead of me which is going slow. PAINFULLY slow. Walking speed slow. If memory serves, average walking speed is 2.5 feet per second (I told you I was a nerd!). 2.5 feet per second slow.

Since this car is sort of wavering along the curb line, going CRAZY slow, I assume that either they are dropping somebody off, or, because it is 8 am, trying to see if Staples was open. So I drive around them and go to park.

I get out of my car, and the car I had passed pulls up to me, a woman leans out, and says the following:

"I realize you must be in a rush, but you do realize that after you passed me, you ran two stop signs?" In a condescending I-must-teach-you-a-lesson voice.

Now, I'll remind you, the parking lot was dead except for me and this woman, and like most people, instead of stopping at the eighty bajillion stop signs in the lot, I sort of slowed down to make sure nobody was coming and no cops were in sight.

"I - I'm covered in gas and I need to buy new clothes." I stammer like a dork. I am inadequately telling her that I have had a rough morning, am in a rush to get back to work, and would appreciate it if she could cut me some slack. No such luck.

"Well I'm sorry about that, but I don't want anyone to get hurt!" The woman replies, still using her most superior tone.

At this point I am so stunned and angry I just walk into the store. I don't know about many of the other ladies (or dudes) out there, but when I get angry, I cry. And the fact that I can't control my emotions makes me angrier, which in turn makes me cry harder.

So here I am in Target, soaked, trying to find the cheapest clothes I can, trying to pull myself together as all my eye makeup runs down my cheeks. I get to the cashier and ask if she has a tissue, and she is sweet enough to find me a napkin, and tells me that she hopes my day will get better.

So thanks, lady, for making a bad day even worse. People like you give me a harsh reminder of why I like my baby bird, mochi more than people.

Not a jerk

In all seriousness, though, to the cashier at Target, you are amazing. Thanks for being so nice to me!

So you think it's over, don't you? HA!

I get to work, still crying. I tell everyone there that I'll tell them what happened after I've changed. I go in there and Stella, another woman I work with, makes me laugh and feel better, but as soon as she leave I feel like crap again.

So who should come in the bathroom just as I start crying again? The same woman who sniffed me! She gives me an up-down every day and gives my outfits disapproving looks! Yay! Just who I wanted to see!

But of course she's not there to see if I'm okay. Oh no. She is there to see what clothes I bought. I'll repeat that gem of sensitivity for you in case it was too awful to really sink in the first time:

I am standing in the bathroom crying, and this woman comes in to SEE WHAT I'M WEARING!

Am I in Bizarro World? Some strange alternate universe where being rude to strangers, being completely inappropriate, and totally insensitive is acceptable? NYARGH!!!1! I knew I shouldn't have screwed around with the time-space continuum!