Dear Little Old Lady
I mean, do you all take a course in looking like you've never figured out how to stand in a line? Like line-ups are a new fangled invention like thongs or MSN Messenger? Because I'm amazed at the one little old lady who knew enough to find the customer service desk at The Bay, to find it in the basement, at the back of the store. Yet at that point of discovery to suddenly become confused at how to stand in the line-up with the rest of us. She then just stood off to the side at an angle much closer than we were, and she waited. And yes, the woman ahead of me shot me a knowing look as this fraile confused wandering little old lady SOMEHOW distractedly managed to meander right up to the next available cashier.
But at the airport with Julia earlier this month, I saw that whole scene play out in a different manner. See, the one ticket attendant noticed the skipping of the line and walking right up to try and stand ahead of Julia. And the ticket goddess then walked right up to Julia and clearly said she'd help HER at the end counter. Little Old Lady DENIED!
*sigh* And now you've made me take glee in your downfall. And here is the kicker. I am so nice. I am nice to a fault. If you were to ever indicate that you were not feeling well and needed to leave the store rather quickly, I'd gladly help out. I'd get you a chair if you needed to sit a moment. I'd give you my spot in line if you smiled nicely and asked. But if you can have the brain power to pick out patterns, convert the measurements to metric and back again, subtract centimetres to account for a shortened torso on the dress, calculated the requirements for thread, metred out the seam bindings... you can figure out what it means to help the *next* in line. So don't play me lady, Okay? Sheesh!

