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Things that bugged me

Story ID:6623
Written by:Monte Leon Manka (bio, contact, other stories)
Story type:Story
Location:Hemet CA. USA
Person:Fuming Chelsea Kansas Kid
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Things that bugged me
(When younger)

Standing in line:

Bank—Have you ever stood in line at the bank and follow some old lady, some old man or some one of foreign decent be ahead of you in line????
The little old lady has a bundle of papers in her hand. As she approaches the window, she is fumbling with the string that ties the papers together. The purse she has is a couple rags sewed together, Gucci no doubt, and when she opens it, the junk falls out on the counter. The papers have her deposit, her withdrawal slips and various other papers.
She looks the teller in the eye and says “Hello Honey,” in a high falsetto voice, followed by the weather, stories of her kids, grandkids, family and other subjects. Never has she told the teller what she wants to do. While shuffling through her papers the window next to her is going to be free in seconds. You now are ready to charge to the teller and get your withdrawal and leave. Two minutes and you can be gone. The person leaves and the teller closes her window and goes on “break.” (Total frustration)
The little old man goes to the window and says to the teller in a squeaky voice says “Hi Sweetheart” and proceeds to tell her about his day. Bran in the morning, prunes for lunch and at the tender age of 74 is ready for the world. He tries in subtle ways to prove to the teller (who could care less) that he is a man and a “smooth talker.” The teller smiles through all the bragging and finally gets down to business. I see the window next to him being opened so I am ready to charge, get my withdrawal and get out of there. When the window is opened the teller calls to someone sitting in a chair to come to the window to discuss something about her account, who has also been patiently waiting. The little old man is about ready to go and as he leaves the window is closed and the teller goes on “break.”
The Mexican lady is ahead of you and says something to you that sounds like Bono dea, never having much to do with Spanish I nod and hope she didn’t ask for a favor. When she gets to the window, they call a teller to the window from another window to translate for her. Now two windows are occupied out of three and I am next. The Mexican lady has the bank employee look up her account for the last fifty years and the read out is fifteen pages long. As they discuss the transactions, the person at the second window is about to go. As you are ready to charge the window, the teller closes the window and goes on “break.”
I am almost 75 and these things don’t bother me anymore, in fact the young kids behind me now have to suffer. (Sweet revenge)

Grocery Lines
Express Line:

I used to smoke (I’ve quit fifteen years ago) and I remember when there were about four major brands of cigarettes. Now there are so many brands you can’t count them. Lights, Longs, Shorts, Filtered, Non Filtered, Menthol, just to name a few. I love to get in the express line with my one article and have some woman order Queen Ann Longs, Nonfiltered, Nicotine plus, purple tipped lites with automatic snuffers if left ten seconds in a tray without an inhale. The clerk looks frantically through her display and finding none goes to the fifteen ft. by six ft. locked cabinet for the Queen Anne Longs. She has to call the manager for the key but he is out for his smoke break and can’t be found. She gets on the loud speaker, pages him and finally he appears and fills the order of one pack. She pays her four dollars and goes on her way, fifteen minutes lost.
The Express line is for cash only, no more than ten articles.
The little old man has a basket filled to capacity and is ahead of me in the express line. I have two articles and could be out of there in a couple minutes. I smile to myself thinking the checker will tell him to move to one of the other lines and I will be next. To my complete, utter dismay the checker takes him through anyway. Finally, he is ready to move on and he writes a check, remember cash only, now he has to borrow a pen from the checker. Everyone is groaning, including me but the little old man is oblivious of our frustration and takes an hour just to make out the check. When the checker takes the check, she notices that the date is wrong and the little old man writes another. There is teeth gnashing, tearing of hair in the line and killing is on everyone’s mind.
I am now there and I can get by with a lot of things I couldn’t before- just because the checker feels sorry for me. (Sweet revenge)
I am behind a well-dressed lady with two kids dressed nicely in the express line. This lady is from the East; Dark skinned thin build extra pretty with a basket full of groceries. She turns to me and smiles as the checker is totaling up her order and I nod my head. (Thinking what a beauty) {Only thinking} The bill comes to something short of 100 dollars. The well-dressed lady pays with food stamps. I can’t believe this, I am thinking dressed so well and on food stamps, oh well. She leaves the store and I stop to talk to the checker, holding up the line. As I go out of the store, I notice the well dressed lady loading her groceries into the trunk of a Mercedes Benz. She loaded the groceries jumped into the driver’s seat and tooled off into the unknown. (She is getting her revenge)
Baseball Game Food Line

I went to an “Angel” ball game, between the innings, you go fetch whatever the Wife, and Grandson wants. Two hot dogs, one nothing but catsup, one with everything one with whatever you want. The hot dogs are higher than a cats back but you say it’s only money. You want a hot dog and a beer, wups I forgot two cokes one diet and one original. You stand patiently in line while the waitress takes her time taking one order at a time and takes her time filling the order. A sudden roar from the crowd lets you know that someone hit a big one and you are missing the start of the new inning.
You are standing behind a young muscular, stocky man that you know is going to order a beer and then move on letting you get to the window, get your order in and get back to the game.
Just as the superman in front of you is ready to take his order a teenager runs up to him and says, “ten hotdogs, seven beers, three cokes, 10 packages of nachos with cheese Dad.” Every hotdog is differently adorned with the condiments. This is no great thing because the condiments are on another table across from the walk up window. Another roar is heard with a bunch of yelling and clapping and you have just missed another great play. Your turn comes and when you place your order you are told that they are out of hot dogs, but in a few minutes they will have some delivered from the basement cooler, four floors down.
At this point, I am not giving up my place in line if I have to wait until midnight. Finally the hot dogs arrive but have to be heated and this takes another ten minutes. Finally when you have your order, $24.00 later, you return to your seat and are told by your wife-“honey you missed two home runs, a triple and a three out play that was great. Thank goodness she couldn’t read my mind because I cannot print what I was thinking. How do I get revenge?

Monte 1999