Respect your elders!?

I was raised to respect my elders. And I do. I offer elderly people my seat and I hold the door for them. I even like some of them, LOL. They have so much life experience. They have wonderful stories to tell (even if they do tell them over and over and over). They can offer sage advice on just about anything. I admire that. I hope to be like them someday.

But I would rather visit the gynecologist for an exam than be in the same grocery store as an old person. I would rather iron a mountain of clothes than follow an old person down a grocery aisle - and those of you who know me, know how much I detest ironing. And I would rather go without Starbucks sweetened black iced tea than be behind an old person in the grocery checkout lane.

Why do they think it's okay for them to drive their carts down the center of each aisle, making it impossible for anyone to pass them? There's Marge, walking soooooo slowly. I get it - she's old, she moves slowly - and that's okay. But could she just pick a side? Noooo - she shuffles her way down the center of the aisle, causing a major traffic flow problem. She's totally oblivious to everyone else in the store. Maybe it's a vision & hearing thing. Maybe she has no idea that of the ruckus she's causing...and who is going to tell her? Not me. Because I respect my elders.

When they need to look at items on the shelf, why do they park their cart right smack dab in the center of the aisle? There's Herb - and you can't get around him. He can't hear you saying "Excuse me" over and over again. And don't even think about moving his cart on your own. That just pisses him off and now he thinks you're a punk trying to steal his groceries. It doesn't matter that you're 48 years old and have a cart full of your own groceries - you're a punk & he's Clint Eastwood asking you if you feel lucky. Well, do ya, punk?

Apparently the elderly lose sphincter control along with their sense of smell. You know what I'm talking about - don't pretend otherwise. But since they didn't hear it, feel it, or smell it - it didn't happen. Never mind that you've been following Fred throughout the store & he rips one with every step he takes - he's right, you're wrong, punk. You just try to get into the next aisle and pray that no one thinks you're the one who left the vapor trail.

And they always pay for their groceries with cash. I have no problem with that. But they insist upon paying for it with exact change - and Ethel knows that she has a nickle and two pennies somewhere in her purse. Just hold on a minute while she takes everything out so she can find the change in the bottom. No, no - she doesn't want to use that dime - she has the exact change. Just hold your horses, sonny! And after she pays the cashier, she will stand there in that same spot until she puts everything back into her bottomless purse. "Oh, look! There's the TV remote! I wondered where I put that!" Then she launches into a story about how she was watching JAG reruns - isn't that Harm just the cutest thing? - then she went into the kitchen during a commercial and that was the last she saw of the remote. Until now. You've been such a help. She's glad she came to the store today. Meanwhile, all of my frozen foods are dripping onto the floor & I've developed a tic in my right eye.

But I'm smiling. Because I was taught to respect my elders. And someday I'll be elderly, God willing. But you won't see me in the grocery store, because my kids have already informed me that I won't be allowed to go there. They also say I won't be allowed to drive. Ppfffsssttt. That's what they think. Punks. Now where did I put that remote??