Today I was at Jewel downtown buying a loaf of bread, waiting in line for one of the self-checkout registers to become available. This young, petite woman rushes up to me and says, "Excuse me, I'm in a hurry. Can I go in front of you?"
Sure, I'm waiting in the self-checkout line just because I prefer to do the checkout clerk's job myself for zero compensation. Why would I be in that line if I wasn't in a freaking hurry myself?
"I'm in a hurry, too," I said as I strode past her to an available checkout. I didn't look at her face, but I got the feeling she's used to getting her way and was probably upset. Maybe she even thought I was a racist bastard since she was black.
But I wasn't just being a dick (this time) -- I really was in a hurry. I had just enough time to catch the train and get home in time for a TV show*. I wasn't going to let some rude little P.Y.T. make me miss a train. As it turned out, I got lucky transferring at Fullerton and made it home four minutes early.
* We don't have a DVR so I watch TV the old-fashioned way, live over the air.