One of the main things hubby and I disagree about on the regular is how long it takes to get somewhere.
And I think I've figured out why.
Way way WAY back in the day I was in marching band, and that time in my life shaped a lot about me. But one of the main things it taught me was to be "on time". And the line my director always used was...
"To be early is to be on time, to be on time is to be late, and to be late is to be in big BIG trouble."
So I plan to arrive anywhere between ten to fifteen minutes early to any appointment. And the grace period I keep increases the further I have to drive. My idea of when to leave varies a LOT from my husband's time.
But today I was reminded why, I keep this goal.
I had a couple errands to run. Run to one bank, withdraw money, head to another bank, deposit money, and bring hubby a fountain drink because his special palette prefers fountain drinks. *sigh*
And I think I've figured out why.
Way way WAY back in the day I was in marching band, and that time in my life shaped a lot about me. But one of the main things it taught me was to be "on time". And the line my director always used was...
"To be early is to be on time, to be on time is to be late, and to be late is to be in big BIG trouble."
So I plan to arrive anywhere between ten to fifteen minutes early to any appointment. And the grace period I keep increases the further I have to drive. My idea of when to leave varies a LOT from my husband's time.
But today I was reminded why, I keep this goal.
I had a couple errands to run. Run to one bank, withdraw money, head to another bank, deposit money, and bring hubby a fountain drink because his special palette prefers fountain drinks. *sigh*
There is a reason hubby often gets his own food. Everything he likes requires extra people interaction. But before I get grumpy, back to the reason I feel justified in allowing extra time.
On the way to the first bank, I get stuck behind someone trying to turn left...into traffic...not at a light. There may have been some cursing involved.
After that, I have to pause for a few people who had problems reading stop signs and understanding the theory of "right of way" and general traffic rules.
At this point, I am fifteen minutes into a five minute drive. When I notice someone directing traffic around an accident. The weather today is sunny. No rain. No snow. No ice. So my only conclusion is that the people who cut me off by running a stop sign sped ahead and ran each other off the road.
At least that's what happened in my grumpy fantasy. Don't tell me the cars were different. In my mind, these were the assholes getting their due.
I finally make it to the superstore with a bank inside. Where I can grab hubby a fancy fucking fountain drink after I use the in-store ATM to deposit the cash.
The ATM decides to reject some of the bills and I have to do three transactions to accomplish what should have been done in one. Of course this all goes down with a teller watching me from a few feet away. But I didn't trust myself not to snap at humans.
After the money finally goes through, I realize in order to buy a fountain drink, I have to go through the register first. But not the "you scan your own shit" lines. Oh no. I have to go through the check out lines with humans.
You know. The lines where all the people afraid of technology, or using 8 million coupons, or writing checks go.
Sure enough, I get behind a woman who has a broken chip on her card. But plot twist, not only does the customer not know what to do, the cashier also doesn't have a clue how to handle this common issue. (I'm also a cashier. I know this shit has a procedure. Chips fail all the damn time.)
On the way to the first bank, I get stuck behind someone trying to turn left...into traffic...not at a light. There may have been some cursing involved.
After that, I have to pause for a few people who had problems reading stop signs and understanding the theory of "right of way" and general traffic rules.
At this point, I am fifteen minutes into a five minute drive. When I notice someone directing traffic around an accident. The weather today is sunny. No rain. No snow. No ice. So my only conclusion is that the people who cut me off by running a stop sign sped ahead and ran each other off the road.
At least that's what happened in my grumpy fantasy. Don't tell me the cars were different. In my mind, these were the assholes getting their due.
I finally make it to the superstore with a bank inside. Where I can grab hubby a fancy fucking fountain drink after I use the in-store ATM to deposit the cash.
The ATM decides to reject some of the bills and I have to do three transactions to accomplish what should have been done in one. Of course this all goes down with a teller watching me from a few feet away. But I didn't trust myself not to snap at humans.
After the money finally goes through, I realize in order to buy a fountain drink, I have to go through the register first. But not the "you scan your own shit" lines. Oh no. I have to go through the check out lines with humans.
You know. The lines where all the people afraid of technology, or using 8 million coupons, or writing checks go.
Sure enough, I get behind a woman who has a broken chip on her card. But plot twist, not only does the customer not know what to do, the cashier also doesn't have a clue how to handle this common issue. (I'm also a cashier. I know this shit has a procedure. Chips fail all the damn time.)
After cashier and customer work for a solid two minutes inserting and swiping. No one can figure it out. Cashier suspends the transaction and the customer grumbles to the service desk to pay for her purchases. Which, honestly, props to the honest customer who didn't just walk the fuck out.
My turn. I ask for two drinks, because at this point, I deserve one too. Cashier only has one cup. And before I can tell her I'll just take one, she hurries off, half the fucking way to Siberia and has a conversation with another cashier to get me a second cup.
Finally she treks back and I have the cups that I now have to fill.
But while I was working through the endless lines to get my cups, which my cashier had her hands all inside of...ew...another customer was at the drink counter. Reorganizing her entire fucking purse before she could push her cart out of the fucking way.
My turn. I ask for two drinks, because at this point, I deserve one too. Cashier only has one cup. And before I can tell her I'll just take one, she hurries off, half the fucking way to Siberia and has a conversation with another cashier to get me a second cup.
Finally she treks back and I have the cups that I now have to fill.
But while I was working through the endless lines to get my cups, which my cashier had her hands all inside of...ew...another customer was at the drink counter. Reorganizing her entire fucking purse before she could push her cart out of the fucking way.
I finally ask the woman if I can squeeze in behind her and use the one and only fountain station. After putting three or four more things back in her purse, throwing away her straw wrapper, and dropping shit, she finally moved.
Then it was the machine's turn to fuck with me.
A bit of foam is normal. Soda gives some head when coming out of a machine. But this was one of those touch screen bitches and the screen reset before the foam would settle. So I would fill the cup, let the foam settle, then go through the three menus to get my hubby's drink back on the screen.
Finally, I'm done. All the To Do boxes are checked, and I can head home.
I'm in my car, and settled, and turn the key to look for people. Because OF COURSE THERE ARE PEOPLE TAKING THEIR SWEET ASS TIME BEHIND MY CAR.
I have to wait for a teenager doing the shoe-ruining shuffle of pout to make it out of my way, and then, I could FINALLY get out of my parking spot and move.
...so I could get cut off again by a woman jumping across traffic to get in the drive thru pharmacy lane.
At this point, I turned on an audio book because I needed a soothing voice in my hear to combat the rage concert in my head.
I make it home, forty-five minutes later. And all of these businesses are within a two mile radius of my house...
And this...this inevitable shit storm of traffic and stupidity...this is why I leave early. Because it seems to happen every time I have to go somewhere.
Then it was the machine's turn to fuck with me.
A bit of foam is normal. Soda gives some head when coming out of a machine. But this was one of those touch screen bitches and the screen reset before the foam would settle. So I would fill the cup, let the foam settle, then go through the three menus to get my hubby's drink back on the screen.
Finally, I'm done. All the To Do boxes are checked, and I can head home.
I'm in my car, and settled, and turn the key to look for people. Because OF COURSE THERE ARE PEOPLE TAKING THEIR SWEET ASS TIME BEHIND MY CAR.
I have to wait for a teenager doing the shoe-ruining shuffle of pout to make it out of my way, and then, I could FINALLY get out of my parking spot and move.
...so I could get cut off again by a woman jumping across traffic to get in the drive thru pharmacy lane.
At this point, I turned on an audio book because I needed a soothing voice in my hear to combat the rage concert in my head.
I make it home, forty-five minutes later. And all of these businesses are within a two mile radius of my house...
And this...this inevitable shit storm of traffic and stupidity...this is why I leave early. Because it seems to happen every time I have to go somewhere.
Are you always early to things? Or always late? Has Murphy's Law been wrecking havoc in your life lately too? Tell me about it so I don't feel so alone.
~Roxy
~Roxy
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