Speak Softly and Carry a Big Shopping Bag

Yesterday I was running some errands in the early evening and popped into TJ Maxx (weird) to partake of their new selection of Nine West jeans, which I love. While waiting to check out, I noticed there was quite a line forming, but knowing they usually move quickly I took my place in the line.

As one minute turned into three and four and five and the line wasn't moving, I found myself in the age old conflict of should I stay or should I go. Like you are pretty frustrated and think "Frig this, I don't need this stuff that bad" but then part of you is like "Well you've already been waiting for a while" and while you hem and haw you stay in the very line that is causing this sense of self conflict.

Well this particular line limbo was brought about by the first sign of the apocalypse: only one employee was on the registers. When you are 5 or 6 people deep in line, this is never a good sign. Neither is when the person being helped decides to ruin everyone's lives and apply for a store credit card. But not before asking several detailed questions about the APR, and what her limit might be, and what bonuses she might get. I agree as a somewhat financially competent person these are important questions to ask but really? Now? When you can hear the ten people behind you grumbling? This is clearly a case for the customer service desk.

In any case we waited.

And waited.

And waited.

The grumbling grew from a faint murmur of chorused sighs to a din of "This is insane" and "Why can't they get someone else to ring?". Finally, summoning my inner Suburban Line Vigilante , I spoke up. "Excuse me, can you please get someone else to ring?". The clerk looked at me for a minute, casting a withering gaze, and said she was busy with a customer and could not call someone else to ring.

I was a little incredulous. Really? You can't take 2 seconds to make one of those "Rebecca up front to ring" announcements?

And what's even more shocking is when I looked to my fellow shoppers for a little commiseration I felt a distinct shifting in the people around me to take one step away from me. Could it be? A simple voicing of a concern everyone felt had me dubbed the Line Bitch?

I turned around and the woman in front of me was giving me the dirtiest of looks, as if instead of suggesting they call someone else to ring I had suggested we fashion a shiv out of a plastic hanger and take control of the registers.

In any case my attempts to get the line moving dubbed a "Fail", and knowing I could definitely not leave now without looking like even more of a dolt. I stayed put and some ten minutes later (about TWENTY MINUTES TOTAL) I left the store with some swank new jeans, and a somewhat dented sense of justice.