Today I had to pick up a package at the post office. Per usual, the line was long. We waited.
In front of us was an old man talking about bunions and gall stones and peripheral artery diseases. He was talking to another old man, who, believe it or not, was a stranger he just happened to meet in line. And they talked about rupturing cysts and festering wounds like a normal person would make small talk about the weather.
"Oh, yer wouldn't believe it! This one time in Arizoner I gat bit by this big spider, whoo-ee! My skin shriveled an' fell off. And the smell! It smelt rotten! Just plain rotten!"
I tried to give the lady behind me a conspiratorial look that said, "Are you hearing what I'm hearing? Is this really happening?"
Only she wasn't having any of that. She scowled at me. And at Oliver, who just happened to be saying "Cah! Cah!" at every car driving past the window. Sorry lady, didn't mean to disturb your festering unhappiness at waiting in line.
When I got up to the window, the man looked at the clock and announced, "Cheryl! It's 15 past! Break time!" He put up a "lane closed" sign, sending me back to the front of the line.
I thought the woman behind me might knife me for reclaiming my spot in line. She whipped out her (smart) phone and started complaining about me and my kid to her friend. Like we couldn't even hear her. Like maybe that would make her wait in line any more pleasant. We weren't even doing anything!
At that point, (because I am a vengeful, rude person) I decided to take it upon myself to give her the best waiting experience possible. I put Oliver down so he could walk around with his obnoxious squeaky shoes. She loved that. Squeak squeak squeak, with every step! Delightful!
I played a game with the hood on his coat that made him squeal with laughter. Ms. Smart Phone was even more disturbed.
Some old ladies in line flirted with Oliver, which only encouraged him more. He stomped his feet to squeak as hard as he could, loudly snorting/laughing.
It was too much for Cell Lady to handle. So much that she left in a huff without buying her stamps or whatever it was she set out to do.
Lesson of the day learned?
Yes, I will use my child as a weapon.