Cantankerously Yours
Shut out, four times in a row
By Wendell Abern
Dear Angerphiles,
As I wrote in a column a few months ago, nothing de-fuses my fury faster than a beautiful woman: the more attractive the woman, the more buffoonish I behave.
I always assumed this lifelong failing would disappear when I reached my dotage. I am now 79. Maddeningly, it occurs just as frequently.
1 – Publix.
I have for years complained about Publix cashiers leaving their station to fetch cigarettes for customers who don’t want to wait in line at the customer service desk.
A few days ago, I’m in line when a woman three carts in front of me sends her cashier, i.e, my cashier, for a pack of Marlboros.
Two shoppers line up behind me. The woman closest to me says, “Where’s the cashier?”
“She went for plastic surgery,” I tell her.
“What?”
“Needs a nose job.”
Suddenly, Tiffany appears. Tiffany. Smoky, seductive eyes. Blonde pony tail down to the waist. A runway model disguised as a store manager.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
Aware of my failings in the presence of a beautiful woman, I quickly try to compose myself.
“Younevercigarettecashiersstandinlineglompindirk!” I shout.
“What?”
Our cashier returns before I can make a bigger fool of myself.
I assume a position of silent stoicism. I pay and leave. Determined to shore up my reputation as an aging crank, I am determined to get in the last word with Tiffany.
“And you,” I shout as loud as I can while wheeling my cart past her station, “NexttimeIcomeI’mgoingtostompnglurkabomble!”
Tiffany chortles.
I hate it when people laugh at my anger.
2 – Publix II.
I’m waiting at the chicken counter. Right next to the deli case. One doesn’t take numbers for chicken – only for the meats and cheeses displayed adjacently.
No one is attending the chicken counter.
A woman with granny glasses sidles up next to me.
“Isn’t there anyone here?” she asks.
“Used to be. They wheeled her out on a gurney.”
“Omygod, is she alright? What happened?”
“Emergency liposuction.”
“What – oh, c’mon, that’s terrible of you.”
“Is there a problem here?”
Tiffany. Again.
I pout. I scowl. I frown. Tiffany smiles pleasantly.
“There’s no one here!” I shout. “Ijustwanttobuysomechickenfriedandthighs anddrumsticksgrompndoodle.”
“It’s okay,” Tiffany says. “Relax. I’ll get someone right away.
“Is he all right?” Granny Glasses asks Tiffany.
“Pay no attention to him. He just likes to vent.”
Stifled again. I hate it when I’m stifled.
3 – Chase (my credit card bank).
Ah. A phone call. No beautiful woman to squelch my anger.
After punching in the 800 number and spending seven minutes on hold, I am finally talking to a human being.
“Good morning, this is Brenda, how may I help you?”
I envision Brenda. I see her as the next linebacker for the Chicago Bears.
“I’d like to talk to your computer.” I tell her.
“Um … sir … our computer doesn’t talk.”
“Really? I think it has a big mouth. It’s charging me an unjust late fee of fifteen dollars.”
“Um, sir, hold on please.”
Three more minutes on hold.
“Sir, our records show your check arrived on the 4th, and was due in on the 3rd.”
“I will not pay a late fee because of the inefficiency of a postal system that took three days to deliver my check to you!”
“Well, you’ll have to take that up with the post office.”
“Their computer is rude.”
Deep sigh. “Sir, I will have your late fee deducted from your next bill.”
Pause.
“That’s all?”
“That’s all, sir. May I help you with something else?”
Mollified again. It’s a conspiracy.
4 – BrandsMart.
Lately, each time I open the door to my stand-up freezer, it shoots out ice chunks at me. Using my warranty, I call Frigidaire for an authorized technician to come figure out what’s wrong.
Jerry comes out, looks things over, then tells me the repairs will cost more than $150, and when that happens, Frigidaire will simply send me a new freezer.
Wonderful!
Frigidaire calls BrandsMart, where I bought my freezer, and Maria, from BrandsMart calls to set up a delivery date.
Maria. Clearly, a female sumo wrestler. Maria and I agree on a delivery day of Tuesday.
At two o’clock on Tuesday, I call BrandsMart.
“Where’s my freezer?” I ask Tony. “You were supposed to be here no later than one o’clock!”
On hold for four minutes.
“I’m sorry, sir, but this order reads Thursday.”
“Maria and I agreed to Tuesday! Today!”
“I’m sorry, sir, Maria’s not here today. Will Thursday be acceptable?”
“No! And if I don’t get my freezer this afternoon, I’m going to sic my Aunt Ruth on you. Believe me, you don’t want to mess with my Aunt Ruth!”
“Thursday,” Tony insists.
“You’re taking kickbacks, aren’t you?”
“Kickbacks! What?”
“You’re doing work on the side for the VP ICOAM, aren’t you?”
“The who?”
“The Vice President In Charge Of Aggravating Me. He’s paying you off, isn’t he?”
Deep sigh. “Sir, you’re down for a delivery on Thursday, between eleven and four. We have many deliveries to – “
“I have a doctor’s appointment on Thursday afternoon! Either deliver the freezer this afternoon or on Thursday morning! I am the customer here! It is not incumbent on me to understand your problems!”
Stanley asks me to hold. I hold. For three more minutes.
“Sir, we’ll have your freezer there within an hour.”
I take a full ten seconds before I answer.
“Within an hour?”
“Right. Within an hour.” He rattles off my address.
After ten seconds, I say, “Tell me the truth, Tony. You called Tiffany,
didn’t you?”
“Who?”
“Never mind. Tell your guys I’ll be waiting for them.”
* * *
Delicious, bottled-up anger, down the drain, four times in a row. It’s humiliating. I have a reputation to uphold! I’m going to call my kids in Chicago and yell at them for no good reason. Can’t have them thinking I’m mellowing.
Cantankerously Yours,
Wendell Abern
Wendell Abern can be reached at dendyabern@comcast.net.