When the Men Ahead of You in the Check Out Line Make You a Little Crazy

I got in the wrong line at the discount grocery store a few days back.  First, the man who was at the front of the line, the one who was checking out? He was rude. He did not help the cashier bag his groceries! He just stood there and smiled and waited as the cashier finished ringing up his items and then waited as she bagged everything. Everyone knows that you help bag your groceries at this store.  What was wrong with him?

The woman checking out in the line next to me, the only other check out line that was open, the line that I avoided because she had a lot of items? She helped bag her groceries. That check out line moved right along. Patron after patron gathered their groceries and left the store. All I could do was stand and watch as my cashier did all the work.

Then there was the man standing in front of me, the one who was next in line to check out. He leaned lazily on his cart, blocking access to the check out belt. I waited behind him in the aisle, clutching my milk and ice cream. There was plenty of room on the check out belt.  He just didn’t move. I finally reached around, said “excuse me” in a slightly less than polite manner, grabbed a divider, and put my milk up. He never even looked at me! He didn’t say, “Oh! Sorry! I didn’t see you there, waiting for a million years, holding your heavy, heavy milk while I stood here taking up all the space.”

I then made room for the lady in line behind me, so she could put her groceries up. See how I am polite like that?  The lady and I exchanged glances, as the man with the empty cart continued to stand there.  Like, “Can you believe this?” A woman would never have stood there, blocking the path. Most men wouldn’t either.

The worst thing? After his friend returned to buy the groceries, he sauntered away and LEFT his cart in the line, completely blocking the way! I had to move it back to the cart area. As if I don’t have enough to do already? As if I don’t take care of so many things for so many people in my home? Now I have to move random carts that strangers leave behind at the grocery store? Just so I can check out?

As I waited for my turn at the check out, I created 100 stories in my head, things I knew about these men. They were Trump supporters! They hate women! They expect women to do all the work (bag the groceries! Move the cart!) They hate me!

God showed up for me today at the grocery store, though.

Because somehow, in the middle of my angry reverie, I realized that I actually didn’t know anything about those men at all.  That was a grace. Maybe the first man, the one who who didn’t help bag his groceries? Maybe he didn’t know that it was OK to do that. Maybe he was afraid it would be rude. Maybe the man in front of me? Maybe he was in pain and had to lean on the cart for support. Maybe he couldn’t stand one moment longer and didn’t have the strength to push the cart out of the way.

Truth is, I don’t know anything about them, their stories, or their motivations.

Richard Rohr says that he prays for one good humiliation a day. He then says that he watches his reaction to it. “I have no other way or spotting both my denied shadow self and my idealized persona.”

I think that Rohr would also agree that it’s not a bad idea to pray for one extremely frustrating interaction a day. Because these help me see that I am not always the kind, caring person that I like to think I am. There’s my “idealized persona” for you.

At least I wasn’t the other evening in the check out line. It was a good reality check for me.

Did I really get in the wrong line?

No. I was right where I was supposed to be.