Cantankerously Yours
Women, Women, Women. I’ll Never Learn.
By Wendell Abern
Dear Readers,
I have written several columns on my lifelong experiences with women (laughable), and my responses to them (pathetic). I decided to sit down and list all my problems with the opposite sex, and was still going strong when I decided I had to call my editor.
“Can I have more space this month?” I asked
“How much more do you need?”
“Another fifteen pages.”
“That’s funny. Put it in your column.”
Figures. My editor is an attractive woman. The more attractive they are, the more helpless I become. Note this column is its standard length.
And so, the list begins.
1 – Women bridge players.
Women make great bridge players. Charles Goren, one of the best who ever played the game, claimed his favorite partners were women.
Some believe the game of bridge provides an outlet for a competitiveness women rarely get a chance to express. I claim the game gives women license to kill. Most of the women bridge players I know are very sweet ladies, older than I am, who turn into Nurse Ratchett the minute they pick up their cards.
Last week, one of my opponents – a very pleasant elderly woman – turned to me and said, “I really like coming to your table because you’re such a nice guy.”
She really knows which buttons to push.
“I’ve told you before. Nobody calls me a nice guy and gets away with it!”
“See?” she said to her partner. “I told you that would rattle him.”
We played three hands and they demolished us. They got up to leave and the woman smiled at me and said, “You’re sweet.” I almost decked her.
2 – Women writers.
I belong to a writers’ group, which includes a bunch of women who are better writers than I am. Especially two of them.
Jane Ellen Glasser, for example. Jane writes poetry. Superb poetry. She has had five or six volumes of poetry published, and I honestly believe some day she will be named Poet Laureate of the country. Some of her verses have actually moved me to tears. I hate Jane Ellen Glasser.
And Bev Kaufman, who is currently writing an outstanding post-Revolutionary War novel. If I happened to pick up Bev’s book at a bookstore I would think she was a recently-discovered Eighteenth Century novelist. Bev makes me feel like an amateur. I am currently plotting her demise.
And I no longer speak to any of the women in my writers’ group.
3 – Women bankers.
I bank at BB&T, and have since moving to Florida. It used to be Bank Atlantic. Many of the same personnel work there, and I have to admit, this bank has always been good to me.
However, they seem to operate with a minimum of employees. I find this infuriating whenever I want to do my banking at the drive-through and find myself waiting in a line five cars long.
A few days ago, I looked at this line, parked instead and marched into the bank determined to raise hell.
Somehow, whenever I get upset with this bank, they seem to sense it and before I can say or do anything, they sic Priscilla on me. Priscilla is this gorgeous, petite brunette who turns me into a twelve-year old. As soon as I see her, I mumble incoherently.
On this particular day, however, she wasn’t there. Terrific. I look around, searching for someone to rail at.
“Can I help you, sir?”
Kimberley, her badge reads. Another one. Tall. Stunning. Right out of a movie set.
This is not an accident! I decide. Clearly, this bank did some market research that showed beautiful women are superior at quelling disputes with customers, and do all their hiring from modeling agencies. I wonder how many corporations do the same.
I stare at Kimberley. She smiles back.
“Gublombinsump,” I mutter.
“Excuse me?”
I shake my head and leave. Since then, I do all my transactions at the drive-through.
4 – Women super market shoppers.
Okay, I confess to a prejudice here. I don’t run into many men at my local Publix super market, so I can’t honestly draw comparisons. However, biased though it may be, I do believe women do things that a man would not do.
For example, I have never seen a man send a cashier to get cigarettes for him.
I have complained about this scores of times, written about frequently, and it keeps happening. A week ago Wednesday, I confronted a woman who had just sent our cashier to the Customer Service desk.
“You rude, miserable clown!” I said, deliberately loud enough to attract attention. “You don’t want to wait in the Customer Service line for your cigarettes, so you make us wait in line at the check-out!”
“It’ll only take her a minute,” she said.
“And it would have only taken you a minute!” I shouted.
We were nose-to-nose when my next aggravation appeared …
5 – Tiffany.
I hate it when Tiffany shows up. Publix must be part of the beautiful-woman conspiracy. Pony tail and all, Tiffany should be walking down a runway in an Armani dress. Somehow, this branch of Publix knows to send her whenever I’m having some kind of problem.
“Well,” Tiffany says,”I see you’re at it again.”
“This jerk seems to have a problem!” the woman shouts.
“My problem is inconsiderate shoppers!” I yell back.
Tiffany pulls me aside.
“Okay, take a deep breath,” she says. I frown, but comply. “Another one.” I pout. “Now tell me the truth,” Tiffany whispers. “If she were a really pretty woman, would you have said anything?”
I stare at her. She smiles. This confirms it! The hiring of beautiful women is corporate policy at Publix! Next week, I’m shopping at Winn-Dixie.
Cantankerously Yours,
Wendell Abern
Wendell Abern can be reached at dendyabern@gmail.com.