Let’s flashback to my amazing journey this past weekend:
To my neighborhood grocery store.
The place was mobbed, but I’d managed to deftly cruise the aisles, and was stocked up like a boss. I had the usual staples, featuring satiating and nutritious fare for me and my best little buddy at home.
Sorry, Maple. We do have to watch our cholesterol.
I navigated toward the front of the store with my cart. As I approached the jammed-up exit lines, I somehow found myself in a spontaneous race-to-the-register with another shopper. She seemed to be in a big hurry.
I backed off, and did the, “no, you go ahead” head-nod-thing, and she responded with the, “thank you for not being a jerk” head-nod-thing. Which I took as a kindness, and then made the very unfortunate mistake of saying something. You know, just to pass the time. Just to be social.
What a dope. I said:
“Sure is crowded today. I remember just a few years ago, you couldn’t buy groceries on a – “
She finished the sentence for me.
“You couldn’t buy groceries on a Sunday. Yeah, I remember. We should go back to that. It was the start of it all.”
Now, here’s a handy field-survival-guide tip for y’all: When someone ends a sentence with, “the start of it all,” it’s a really great time to run the other way. Or, in this particular situation: at least surveil the other checkout lines, and identify as practical an escape route as possible. But logistics were not on my side, and I was stuck.
“The start of it all. All of it. When I was a girl, we went to church on a Sunday. We didn’t waste the day at the the Shop-And-Go.”
“And what’s with the sports, sports, and more sports? It’s unnecessary.”
This shouldn’t be relevant, but I know that some of you are picturing our protagonist as an older Boomer. Not the case. She was perhaps in her mid-thirties. She continued:
“And not having Sunday dinner together? We use to have Sunday dinner together. Not any more, I’ll tell you. Those days are gone.”
And now, faithful readers: Let’s take a quick moment to play America’s fastest growing board game:
Select one of the following options:
- A: She was sad and generally having a bad day.
- B: She was bemoaning the loss of a traditional Sunday, and wistful for a simpler time
- C: She was a bit “off,” and just itchin’ to start a loud and random debate of a political nature with a total stranger who was just trying to buy oat milk.
“More context,” you ask? Sure. Her next sentence:
“And this election? If that woman gets in, it will get a LOT worse.”
I know. It’s a real shocker in 2024.
And she continued, referencing ersatz statistics and alternative facts that a middle-schooler could refute without looking up from their game of Animal Crossing.
The crowd of shoppers were starting to become engaged. It was perversely glorious.
A few are starting to comment under their breath. One or two agreed with the woman, a few didn’t… but mostly, people seem tired – and annoyed.
This all happened in the space of under a minute. She made another weird point or two, and with a self-satisfied look, delivered a line that sounded rehearsed for the moment:
“You have to ask yourself: “What is it that you really want?”
I suddenly realized:
- Irrespective of our audience, she was still talking directly to me.
- She actually expects a response.
- The other shoppers are waiting for my reply.
I generally like participating in spirited and cogent discussions, but I was too tired.
- Too tired to come up with a snappy comeback
- Too tired to engage in any of this
- Too tired of being involved in the constant, tedious and pointless exercise that we see so much of these days
Tired of the insipid back and forth with people who just want to argue for the sport of it. It accomplishes nothing, and wears everyone down.
So while it was not among my most eloquent or cleverest of comebacks, I spoke from my heart.
“I want you to leave me alone.”
And as quickly as it had all started, it was over. She didn’t say another word, or turn my way.
The others shoppers got back to their business.
I couldn’t put my finger on exactly why I felt bad about what had happened. If I’d had the mental bandwidth, I might have done the right thing, and attempted a civil back-and-forth with the woman. I told myself that it was OK that I took the easy way out.
When it came her turn to pay, she silently loaded her groceries on the conveyor belt.
I glanced at her purchases. And I then realized:
Even after such a bizarre interaction, sometimes, you just have to have a bit of patience…
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I know why you feel bad. She’s in desperate need of an intervention, and that wasn’t the time or place for one. You’re not the person to do it, either. It will have to be her family. She’s going to continue to walk among us fixated on complaining, and complaining about things that aren’t real. Everyone she meets will have to deal with her, too. You feel bad for them, and her.
I am a people pleaser by nature, and if I had responded as you did, I would have undoubtedly felt bad about it, but I disagree that you didn’t do the right thing. You did what I seem to never be able to do when confronted with an unsolicited, unwanted socio-political “discussion” that’s actually a monologue. You put a stop to it by simply being honest. I just keep my mouth shut and grumble about it later. You have a right to choose if you want to hear what a total stranger has to say about the state of the world. From where I sit, she crossed a boundary of what is considered basic social etiquette and you simply reset the boundary.
To me, our discussions here about music, books, and entertainment are my “oat milk”. It is a bonding experience to discuss something that is a shared passion. I do sometimes feel guilt that the world around me is on fire and I’m talking about great bongo tracks, but it keeps me sane and is my chosen refuge from the more sobering and difficult things in life that we all face. In my perfect world, I would not know where any of you stand on political issues and it is why I don’t tend to participate in discussions here on politics, even if the case may be that I agree with what is being said.
The difference is that I can easily make that choice when it comes to electronic media and just opt out when I want. It is much harder to do so when confronted IRL. You made the choice you felt was best for your mental health in that moment, mt, and I say “good on you!”
I agree that you did the right thing in that moment. At least with respect to setting a boundary.
I will say that your opening line about how people couldn’t shop on a Sunday…that is something my very-religious parents used to say, right before complaining about encroaching secularism.
So it could be that she simply thought you were onboard with her “brand of oat milk,” so to speak, from the get-go.
I’d say start with a line about the weather instead, but even that’s supposedly controlled by nefarious forces these days. Maybe best to just mutter random song lyrics.
“I remember when
I remember, I remember when I lost my mind…”
“Please allow me to introduce myself, I’m a man of wealth and taste…”
“Those cats were fast as lightning…“
“You are here and warm, but I could look away and you’d be gone” (Sorry, first thing that came to mind for some reason.)
“Qu’est-ce que c’est? Fa-fa-fa-fa, fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-fa…”
“DISHES! DISHES! DISHES! All you the love of you…”
“Now this is a story all about how, my life got flipped turned upside down…”
Sounds like she was expecting validation of her views and a way of absolving herself of doing anything to change things.
If going shopping on a Sunday, missing church and not having dinner together is a problem then do something about it instead of blaming society. Those are all things she could take personal responsibility to do something about. The sports less so but that’s just personal Al preference. My grandma was complaining 40 years ago there was too much sport on TV, getting in the way of the real programmes.
Not every interaction will end positively. While having a reasoned debate may be the ideal sometimes life just means you don’t have the energy to engage.
In terms of sports, the big change here is that kids’ sports used to not take place on Sunday mornings. That time was sacrosanct. That is most certainly no longer the case. I’m guessing that is probably what she was talking about based on what started the conversation.
I wonder if it was the same woman I sat next to on my last plane trip? (It was not based on the general age you gave.)
My answers ended up being “I agree” if I agreed and “that is interesting” if I did not. I could not tell if she understood where I stood but she kept talking for a while…
“I’m just here to buy some milk and bread.”
There’s a time and a place to have these conversations. With random strangers in line at a grocery store, for me, isn’t it.
Good on you, mt.
You made the right call. Never fight with a pig in the mud — it’s the pig’s home turf, and besides, he likes it. You may feel funky about it, but I can’t think of anything you could have done that would have given a better result.