Rant time. Sorry, it has to be done.
So I’m at Walgreens today (it’s like Eckerds or CVS, if you’re Walgreens-less), and I’m getting some water and some other thing or other (not the point), and I get in line behind this woman who is clearly not from this country.
Now, let me just pause here and do a side rant . . . my wonderful friend Tally has been waiting AGES to get approved to come to the U. S.; she’s been questioned and scrutinized and been all but autopsied and shelled out who knows how much money, and still she waits. And you know why? Because she wants to come here legally. As it should be done.
Actually, I have no idea how this in line woman at Walgreens came to be here, so that’s not really the point (actually, there IS no point, it’s a rant, after all.). She’s got coupons, and I don’t really mind that as using coupons is just good sense, especially with everything being so expensive. And her English is poor, and I don’t have a problem with that because at least she was trying to speak English, and I admire that. What drove me buggy was that she left her little blue plastic carry basket on the floor at my feet (where she had placed it to empty out her items onto the counter) and proceeded to pick up her bags and I guess walk out the door.
So I said, “Excuse me. Are you just going to leave this here? Right in front of me?” and raised my eyebrow at her quizzically (did I mention I’ve been a bit bitchy lately?). She picked it up and walked the four steps over to where the giant stacks of blue plastic baskets were and placed hers with the others.
Where it belonged.
Now this Walgreens I go to is a clean, organized store; there are not things flung about the aisles or on the floor, and there were certainly not any blue plastic baskets cluttering up the check out lines, so what on earth made this woman think she could and should just leave hers there? On the floor, at my feet? I would literally have had to either pick it up or step over it to get to the register counter.
Grrrr. When in Rome . . . put your friggin’ blue plastic basket back where you found it, k?
The pic is of Filene’s Basement’s annual “Running of the Brides” and is the only store and occasion of which I am aware (though there must be more because Friends had an episode of a similar thing in NYC) that one can expect to find stuff littered all over the aisles. See how she digs through those dresses on the floor? It’s a tradition. It is NOT how we regularly shop in this country, though.