I stared down the exceptionally long Christmas aisle in the market wondering where the hell the Jewish section was amongst the yard art, plastic santa’s, candy canes and reindeer.
“Excuse me,” I asked one of the clerks. “Where is your Jewish section?” “Huh?” she asked blankly staring into thin air. “Your Jewish section,” I signed, raising my voice while performing a little Yiddish dance.
A friend of mine who was in the next aisle heard my voice and peaked over to see what was going on, why I always have witnesses at times like these I do not know. “I hate to give Jews a bad rap by making a scene in a place that seems in denial that Jews actually exist, ” I said “but this is ridiculous.”
The Jew section turned out to be a sorry two foot square area in an obscure section of the store offering strange items like salted soft fishlike crackers but no Gelt, candles or anything else that had to do with Chanukah. I couldn’t imagine that they weren’t getting hell from all the other Jews in the Valley because one thing was for certain, none of my fellow Jewish friends would put up with this.
As I put the groceries on the belt the check out girl admired and commented on my grocery selection. I met her years back when her mother volunteered for an organization that I was the Volunteer Coordinator for. I have never learned which disease she has but she moves slower than most and her face is physically marred. I have seen her at different stages of her life, as a child and than pregnant with her own child. Who the father is, I do not know.
She told me that her daughter would not be with her over Christmas for the first time in eleven years because she was in an all girl’s boarding school in Oregon and I asked her if she was okay with that. She said she was.
As she checked out my items she studied each one, “Ohhh”, she exclaimed, “I’ve never seen this natural kind of ice cream before,” and “ooohhh, I just love Swiss chocolate but ohhhh look at the price.”
The fact is, I buy Swiss chocolate for Wade and the children because it is the only chocolate bar in the Market that doesn’t have high fructose corn syrup in it, but I didn’t have the energy to explain the psychology behind my grocery selections.
I was growing more irritated by the second but I smiled because that is my new thing, to smile when I feel like shredding something or someone to pieces, and not just present a fake smile, as there is nothing worse than a fake smile, but to really smile so that I actually can feel the warmth of the smile radiate within me and change my attitude.
I ran my debit card through and, as usual, the magnetic strip was not working. “It never works. You have to punch it in yourself,” I said apologetically. Not accepting this she came around to try it herself with her own special touch. She slid it slowly a few times, going slower with each try and then wrapped it in plastic to slide it a few times more.
She shook her head and said, “Your card doesn’t work.” “No! Get out, really?” She got on the phone all in a huff to call for help. So now we both were irritated and I realized that I had started it by giving her back half of the groceries from my cart when I saw that I had overdone the shopping again with grandiose ideas for holiday meals.
“I can give you a check,” I pleaded. “No, no, its ok,” she sighed. By the time she decided that she could punch in the numbers without the help of her superiors, my smile was bringing tears to my eyes. When I read, “NOT APPROVED,” I forced back the real tears from flowing. At times like these I can’t help but step outside myself and feel as though I am watching my own Woody Allen film.
“Your card isn’t working,” she said again holding the card out for me to take it back but when I tried to grab it she wouldn’t let it go. Finally, after a staring match and a small tug of war, I asked her in a sugar coated bitter tone, “Are you going to give me the card back or what?” She broke out laughing at her inability to let go, and so did I. It was a real hysterical, nervous breakdown sort of laughter but nevertheless it felt good and when I glanced back at the people who were patiently waiting in line behind me I saw that they too were laughing.
When I left, still winding down with my uncontrollable giggles, I should have felt sad for her but I didn’t. I felt happy, and thankful, that I wasn’t too absorbed in myself to appreciate this woman and her struggles, happy that I had been given the gift of laughter and happy that I didn’t make a scene, for once in my life.
It’s nice to know I am not the only one who tends to have great ideas only to unload them from my cart after I quickly guesstimate at what the price might be. As for the smile to keep from exploding…I am a pro at this. The only thing I have found is that if the smile doesn’t change my attitude or more likely my children’s attitude the explosion may be 10 times worse. I will say it’s always worth a try and tends to work more times than not.
I wonder why it is so gratifying for me to read things that are equivalent to my own life? Thanks once again!! Peace to you and hope your boys are getting along this fine Monday of winter break.
Love this one!!!
Thanks Gretch!
Kristy,
I think we moms are all in this together!
I was looking for Hanakah candles at wal Mart and asked 2 different Latino woman where the hanakah section was they sounded it out and ahd obviously never heard of Hanakah before, it was pretty comical but I gave up, Carls is the palce to go..or Amen wardy if you feel like spending a ton of money…I know the exact teller at City market, she has talked to me about her daughter at boarding school and ive always been so curious about her and felt sad for her, she’s so painfully slow, but if I don’t avoid her line, I work on smiling too and listening to her critique my groceries and talk about her daughter, I’m glad you made her laugh..
Reading this, I could feel your changing energy as you walked through the experience at the store. I’m sort of thankful it ended like it did, and you had me feeling tremendously grateful for my life, my good health, and my own ability to smile through tough times.
My best to you, Jillian! Your blog is always a joy to read.
Great post Jillian! You had me on edge there for a second waiting for the blowup. I loved how you described how the smile would radiate on the inside to warm you up. I need to try that more often. Counting to 10 doesn’t really work for me… maybe a little warmth will?
Hi Jillian!
This was great – like mentioned above I could feel the energy shifting in the story – fabulous writing! And let’s all have a drink! Witchy woman CAN control herself! haha!
Holiday Hugs
suZen
Hi Hilary, so glad to hear that I am not alone in this world!!!
Hello Vivianne,
I must say that you are partially responsible for my vivid writing as you provided great inspiration for me from your posts.
Counting to ten does not work for me either!
Hello SuZen,
Yes, let’s all have a drink!
You’re right, I can control myself can’t I? I guess I’ll have to practice it more at home.
Hi Megan,
Yes, we all need to be thankful for what we have and give what we can to the others that are less fortunate!
Thanks for visiting.
Yeah, I’m not sure why, but it always annoys me when the cashier starts commenting on my grocery selection.
You are spot on that smiling makes us feel better! I don’t smile anywhere near enough. Or rather, I don’t smile when I most need to smile. Am I too dependent on outside sources? I don’t know. I am not a sad person. I think I just get down on myself because in a moment like this that you describe, my face would NOT be one of good cheer – I would look annoyed. So INCREDIBLY annoyed – which I totally realize does NOT help the situation or fix the wrongs. Hmm. Lots to think about here.
Thanks.
I tend to lug a kid around with me when I am frustrated. Whenever I feel that I am on the brink, I talk to them. I play with them. I distract myself. I have never been able to force tears BACK…if they start coming and touch the corners of my eyes, I’m done for. They flow. Therefore, I need distractions from my emotions.
I am amazed that you’re able to smile, truly. Finding ways to “get through” is a feat we all must surpass. What exhaustion it will be.
It’s so funny that you are saying that Jessica because I sometimes wonder if I am using my children as a crutch too much to escape from the social world.
Glad that I got you thinking Sarah. Sometimes we get trapped in the struggles of our life when really all it takes is a little levity, or at least that is what my mother says.
I really like this post, lady. Good for you for not punching the girl in the neck. I don’t know if I could have restrained myself…
Grumble Girl, anytime you need some valium just let me know!!
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