I'm a pretty reserved person now that I'm a bit older, when I was younger I enjoyed a lot of adventurous activities and events but I've never really been the wild one of the group. Someone commented to me recently that I was always there - but never really in the middle of it. I think I was cautious and I hope, a bit wise during those times. I've always enjoyed migrating to a quiet corner and watching the party happen around me, watching the people around me - people's behaviors fascinate me. There are lots of places I frequent now during the morning of my adulthood where the people watching is fantastic.
For instance - the BMV (or, depending on where you live; the DMV or Secretary of State). Here in Indiana we call it the BMV or Bureau of Motor Vehicles. What ever you call it, you should plan on taking a day off work to get your tags or license renewed. The one thing the BMV is not short on is a line of customers. It never fails and it doesn't matter what state you live in or what time of day you go; the experience is long, boring and almost always frustrating. I urge you to double check that you have everything you could possibly need before you get in line as you'll undoubtedly forget a very important document otherwise and have to make a second trip which will make for an even more miserable experience.
I was at the BMV recently (remember my new car Jackie Blue? I needed to make her legal which meant a trip to the Sheriff's office for a VIN check and then a trip to the BMV for tags n' such), ahead of me in line was a younger guy who's face I couldn't see but I did see his pink-plaid light weight shirt, stone washed jeans with very worn out cuffs and his flip flops (no socks, thank God.) He had light straw yellow hair that was cut in a shaggy "surfer-boy" manner. He was having a very hushed and heated conversation with the attendant, I coulnd't hear what they were saying but the boy abruptly spun on his flops and in a very loud and frustrated voice said; "You should...be... more...*sputter sputter*....Specific!" and with that he stormed off to find the important document he obviously left at home. The attendant gave a highly annoyed stare which ended in her rolling her eyes and dryly calling out "Next!"
When it was my turn at the counter I was happy to discover that I had not forgotten anything (Rick had literally "over-packed" me before I left the house, I had more than I needed.) and so I was scooted along to the next waiting area. The only good thing about the BMV and the long waiting lines is the people watching ends up being pretty good entertainment. While I waited for my name to be called by the cashier I watched a young kid (16 or 17 I assume, I think in IN you have to be 17 to get a license, although he didn't look a day over 14) who was clearly very excited to be getting his drivers license. He bounced around in his seat impatiently and talked excitedly with a young girl I took for his little sister. They both appeared to be in jolly moods which I appreciated.
Across from me sat a middle aged woman who was a kind of mild version of a "biker chick". I noticed that her black tank top had eyelits which peaked through to her rather intricate floral tattoo that crawled around the edges of her chest and shoulder over onto the top of her arm and neck. While I was admiring her tattoo she was chatting up a man wearing a dark tan suit who wore square glasses and thinning hair. He was really more "quiet nerd" than anything else. They were not together but the woman had begun to chat up the man while in line to check in. I think they were from the same town in northern Michigan because they kept talking about Petoskey. The woman's silver bracelets jangled and clanged as she spoke with animation about the weather on the beach in the summer time. I wanted to join in with them as I have spent some wonderful time in Petoskey and could relate to their conversation, I felt it would be rude to butt in so instead I sat listening to them while playing with my phone to appear inconspicuous.
Down the aisle from us was a mid 30's cat with one of those hip paige boy hats on. He wasn't chatting with anyone, reading a book or playing on his phone. He was doing the same thing I was doing - people watching and eaves dropping in on conversations - but he wasn't covering up the evidence by checking his Facebook while sneaking glances around the room and just listening, instead he was just as obvious as can be, staring at everyone. It felt oddly rude to me even though I was engaged in the same activity. I tried not to look at him too much and was thankful my experience was quick and painless and I was out of there in about 25 minutes. Which, by the way, seems like some kind of record to me.
Another place I frequent that has good people watching is the grocery store. I do my grocery shopping every weekend with the occassional trip during the week for either forgotten list items, or random missing ingredients for some new recipe I want to try. Needless to say, I'm there a lot. I have a friend who makes fun of me for the amount of time I spend there. And the worst part is that I really don't enjoy these trips; there's always too many people to manouvre the wiggly-wheeled cart around and the packing (cart) and unpacking (check out) and packing (car) and unpacking (home) of the groceries is a pain in the ass. And for some reason there's always gotta be one item I can't find or have forgotten to grab and I end up wandering from one end of the store to the other trying to find it. But also, I have this horrible urge to peak into other shopper's carts to see what they are buying and then judge their lives accordingly so of course I assume they are doing that to me as well, which in reverse feels like a horrible invasion of privacy which then makes me feel guilty.
Once, years ago, when I was checking out and the bag boy said; "wow, can I have dinner at your place?", I started to wonder about the food I was buying and what other people insinuated about my life based on those items. Was I buying an overabundance of child-like foods that would make this young pimpley-faced kid want to join me for a meal? That was mildly worrisome. This event sparked my curiosity about what people shop for and what this says about their lives, and I find I'm unable to help myself from sneaking peaks as shoppers pass by me in the aisles.
I stopped by the store on my way home from work the other day because we were going to have hamburgers for dinner and we needed bacon for the burgers and my husband had a craving for corn on the cob so I got some of that as well. While I was checking out in the "Express Lane" a couple pulled their cart in behind me and I glanced over to see what they were buying. They must have had about nine 6-packs of Diet Pepsi, they were in bottles and hung all the way around the side of the cart. It was hard to see what else was in the cart but I saw some green foliage so they must have been buying plants or flowers in the small flowershop the grocery store has. I wondered if it was someone's birthday party they were stocking up for. I wondered who the plants were for. I wondered what their house was like, would that plant hang from their front portch? I wondered if the paint was pealing on their front portch. I wondered if they had kids. I wondered why they were arguing about whether they could stay in the Express Lane or not. I wondered if the Pepsi was on sale.
Recently I had an opportunity to observe what women are like while at a home party. You know the kind - Lia Sophia, Party Light, Pampered Chef etc. There's a certain etiquette involved with these parties. An air of politeness hovers all around. Everyone smiles, laughs at the jokes, plays the games and participates in the "ooohs" and "ahhhhs" where appropriate. While I was at this party, playing the role I have learned to play, I witnessed one woman who refused to have a good time. Every suggestion that was made to her by the Consultant was shot down with a rude interpretation of the product. I began to wonder why this person came at all, and why the hell she was sitting next to me. If you don't like the type of stuff the woman is selling - why are you here? The better question was why did this woman feel the need to be so vocal about her dislike? Wouldn't the more prudent thing be to sit quietly and enjoy the free food until this apparent inconvenience was over? I'm just saying. If there's one thing we learn as we grow, it's how to interpret events and determine the best behavior for the situation.
Socially acceptable behavior is what I'm talking about. I haven't always agreed with the notion, but the older I get the more I see it's uses. The party would have been a much better time had the Debbie Downer not showed up is all I'm saying. It's a shame really; the girl was a pretty thing with silky brown hair and big round eyes but her rudeness was so abundant that she appeared ugly to me. I tried to help the Consultant out by making my own suggestions to Debbie Downer, but it was a useless effort. She was dead set on having a miserable time and taking the rest of us down with her. I guess this one life lesson was lost on her.
I don't know what any of this blog means. I don't know if any of us are doing it right, but I sure am enjoying watching y'all go through it with me.
The grocery store stories here make me think of a couple of things:
ReplyDeleteCart Judging: I know what you mean.
Yes, people are looking at your cart and judging... maybe not your life, but at least your choices, and when I say, "people", I mean me. I am. Husband and I try to eat fairly healthy and we're always delighted when our efforts are affirmed by the cart near us in line that's full of Hungry Man frozen dinners, Pop Tarts and six pack after six pack of pop. We can't help but feel proud of ourselves that we "know better".
But then, yeah, we start to feel bad. Who the hell knows if that's how that person shops all the time? Maybe that week those are the food choices that make sense because a stove isn't functioning or a kitchen is being remodeled and frozen dinners are what is settled on because doing anything else would be a royal pain in the ass. Maybe the pop tarts and pop are for an annual camping trip (camping trips were the only time my mother would buy pop tarts).
Where we REALLY start to judge people and feel justifiably snooty is when we're in line and watch two people with a full cart who just stand there and let the cashier do all the bagging, which is a forever taking process. We can't understand why these people don't help or do ALL the bagging while the cashier is scanning. Don't visits to the grocery store suck? Haven't these people ever been in line behind other people like them humming and hawing because it's taking so long? Wouldn't they rather just get out of there? Don't they have places to go???
Drives us NUTS. So we always help bag, and the cashier always gives a "Thanks for bagging," in a tone of voice that is at the same time relieved and surprised, like, "Seriously? You did that for me?"
Yeah, Cashier, I did that for you. Because I've had your job and scanning AND bagging for bitches who stand around doing nothing while I did it made me want to punch a baby (speaking of which, mothers with young children were always, always exempt from this sort of rage, I genuinely wanted to serve them).
We sometimes play a game with ourselves by silently picking another shopper to "race" to paid for and bagged grocery freedom. Especially if that shopper was behind us, wouldn't wait, and picked a "better line" next to us. We make a point of it to be speedy and be out of there before that person as a silent expression of, "Yeah, what up? How you like me now? Yeah, our cart was full, but we are effin' efficient, yo!"
Why do we do this? Because grocery shopping sucks. You've got to make of it what you can. :)