Socializing in Line

Fucking blogger. Getting rid of arbitrary paragraphs. Ruining my carefully structured flow. Don't worry. I fixed that now.

WARNING: This is a rant. Also, I like the second person. Deal with it.

Socializing in Line

Just because I am in a place with other people does not mean I want to interact with them. Sure, if it's a bar or a sporting event, yeah, I guess human interaction is good, but don't assume it in a place where I don't have a choice. Best example, shopping, especially for something like groceries. I lack the option of shopping there by myself, so I have to be around people at the time. Here's the trick. If I desired to talk to someone, I'd go with someone or possibly be that guy on the phone with no sense of who could hear him.

With this considered, I hate when people try talking to me in the store. I forgive employees up to a point when they ask if they can help me with something. I worked retail. I get that you have to ask that. If I give you a pleasant response, that's not an invitation to give me a scouting report on your whereabouts if I need help or to then, later sneak up on me with conversation on what I'm looking at. It's bad enough someone now knows I'm looking at the "Barbie's Animal Hospital" video game. I don't want to get in a conversation about how Skipper got her name from the designer's bikini waxer.

The worst is when I'm in line at the grocery. You know the scene. You get in that seemingly short line that takes thrice as long to get through because the old lady in front of you is buying individually packaged grapes, has a coupon for everything (all but three are expired), and she signs the electronic pad with a pen. You finally get through that and it's your turn. Next, your cashier goes on break and is replaced by the new guy, who has that soft voice with a southern twang that doesn't make sense for the area and always goes by his full name even though he has an obvious nick-name (William or Jonathan or something like that). Then, a middle aged woman with an energetic smile saunters into your aisle with a cart full of food on top and packed to the brim with cat food below. The perfect storm is complete.

Once you have reached this point, discourse is almost inevitable. However, I have collected a few tips and tricks to help you avoid this:

1) Don't wear anything from any school, colleges especially. No Florida hoodies, UNC hats, or IU t-shirts. I'd recommend taking the Oklahoma fight song off your cell phone or put that thing on vibrate the second you get in that store. I'm not kidding. This woman has kids that just graduated, co-workers with kids who are visiting colleges, and relatives with tenure. It doesn't matter if the school is Chaminade. The janitor at her work has a son who goes there. She will find a way to make a conversation out of this. It will be filled with inane questions, incorrect identifications*, and yes, wistful memories or her youth.
And don't expect William to help you. He called the senior co-worker, an unfortunate woman with a hyphenated first name, to waddle over and help you after he tried to weigh the bananas you're getting and got it to charge $32. You can't even make a run for it because the host of Tales from the Crypt, the bagger, is blocking you path with a cart.

*Example: "You went to Minnesota. One of those cheese heads, I see."

Corollary to rule 1: For the case of the middle-aged man. Avoid anything with a sports logo, no matter what the sport or league. Nothing is safe. You think your Manchester United shirt is safe? Before you know it, you are talking about Pele. The amazing thing is, he will always find a way to make it about his team and his sport. Texas football turns into the Cleveland Indians before you can say "10 cent beer night."

2) Don't look at any magazines. Betty (I gave her a name) watches the CBS soaps. She can't believe Reese Witherspoon had a secret wedding (but with dozens of photographers on staff). She needs to see the first pictures of Jessica Alba's baby. She can't believe the rubbish they are allowed to publish in the tabloids. And, worst of all, she needs to let you know this. Unless you also can't get enough  of Kim Kardashian's diet to lose 10 pounds in 3 weeks (Hint: The method is so obscene, you might have to gag), the you leave no openings for her.

3) This one may be a little cold, but it is necessary. Do not put down the divider when she gets in line. If you didn't do it automatically, then don't do it when she shows up. Even something small like that is too much invitation. You do that. She says "thank you". You say "Your welcome". She says, "You are such a polite young man. Most people don't have such good manners." Boom! Conversation. Those bananas will be expired before you can free yourself.

4) Don't dress nice. You are going to the store. If she even gets a whiff at "you have plans later" she will need to know about the wedding, wake, or walk-a-thon. You need to leave her with the fear that you might be a hobo, or gang member if you have the skin and/or speech* to pull it off.

*She's the racist one, not me.

Myself, I even take extra precautions like never wearing clothes out of season ("I don't know how you can wear shorts in the middle of March like that" or "Unseasonably cold today, isn't it?") and not debating if I want to get a candy bar ("Those are so unhealthy for you. My ex-husband eats those and now he is a fat-ass piece of shit"). It's equally unsafe to talk to the cashier. It won't deflect the woman. It'll encourage her, showing that you are personable. She will jump at the first chance to join in.

If it was up to me, I would have four things said to me the whole time I'm there:
"Watch out. Floor's wet here."
"Free sample?"
"Cash or credit?"
"Have a nice day."
Oh well, maybe in a perfect world.