Oh dear. I know my semi-regular blogs have been, well, not… What can I say? It’s busy-busy here in Culver City. But then something happens that I just have to write about.
I go to Costco for gas.
And my whole psychological spooky house loses a couple walls…
It’s early, before the big store rolls up the corrugated steel doors and a knot of eager shoppers push in with their giant carts. It’s when the gasoline station is usually, shall we say, mellow.
All the years I’ve been driving my Saturn (yes a Saturn…), I still have to look at the dash to remind myself which side the fuel tank is on. Oh yeah…the right. Plenty of times I pull into the “other” lane and have to thread the gasoline thingy behind the rear antenna across the trunk to reach the hole. As I stand there, babysitting the handle, making sure a passing car doesn’t squash my bottom, it’s obvious to me that I could have thought this through a little better.
So here I am one more time carefully weighing my options, remembering which side is which and divining which line of cars is the shortest. So I hesitate a little before taking aim at the “leftist” lane. JUST AS A GUY IN A BIG BLACK TRUCK RIPS OUT OF NOWHERE AND CUTS IN FRONT OF ME.
Yes in the scheme of things, in a world that is rife with despair and people doing awful things to each other, this burst of mean-spiritedness is a non-starter. But at the picnic of life, it’s not so much the bears that get me. It’s the ants…
Almost immediately he pulls up to a pump. MY PUMP. As I wait MY turn. I glare at him. I want to burn him up with my eyes. I am on fricking fire.
And he is glaring at me too. At ME! I watch him open his door…glare…walk to the pump…glare…do the credit card dance and gas up…glare. I watch my angry mind question his worthiness as a human being. His right to breathe air. But mostly I smash into the wall of my own psychology. My M.O. When I feel wronged, when I feel like someone has treated me in a rude, snarky way, I feel terrible. Terrible, terrible, terrible.
But here’s what usually happens: I back off. I want to make nice. I want everyone to get along. This is my M.O. too. I swallow that mouthful of anger and stuff it into my gut. As if getting it out of my face is my ticket to Happy Land.
Not this time…
I look the guy straight in the eyes and say “you cut in front of me and that was very unkind.”
“I disagree.” He retorts.
I disagreeeeee?
Uh-oh… Was he the star on his college debate team? Was he from a big family where it was dinnertime sport to argue your case over mom’s pot roast and mashed potatoes?
And he’s not done… Now he makes it about me. That I was hesitating and didn’t know which lane I was going to, so of course he drove around me. In other words, it is my fault.
Oh, he’s a spin doctor too? He’s off the hook, by golly, because I made him do it. By now my rational mind is missing in action. My head has turned into a drunk party.
One voice says “yeah, it’s all your fault…bad girl.”
Another interrupts “nuh-uh, he’s a jerk.”
Another chimes in “but the guy has a point.”
“Yeah…maybe…but he won’t even say ‘I’m sorry’.’”
“Shut up.”
“No, YOU shut up…”
The conversation blares on.
If it was possible to lean a microphone against our heads and broadcast the internal conversations we have with ourselves, I think most of us would all be in jail.
At least overnight…
I say nothing more to this man. Continuing our “discussion” would be an exercise in futility but I’m sure my face registers utter dismay. A poker player I am not. I watch him roar out of the parking lot and tear down the street. Maybe he’s late for work. Maybe his kid is in the hospital. Maybe he’s a horse’s ass. His left brake light is out and maybe he’ll get pulled over by a cop and get a ticket. A really expensive ticket…
Maybe today I am taking things too personally.
Towards the end of his life, philosopher Aldous Huxley wrote, “It’s a little embarrassing that after forty-five years of research & study, the best advice I can give people is to be a little kinder to each other.”
Mr. Huxley died in Los Angeles. In 1963. B.C. Before Costco.
How do I respond to this moment…and this one…and this one? How can I know until it happens? How can I know if the answer is kindness? Or fire? Or both? If only I can remember to check in with my heart FIRST.
If only I can remember where the fuel tank is…
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PROGRAM NOTE for our California friends:
My husband Craig and I are doing a mini-ukulele tour (and mini-vacation) through Central California in mid-July:
Friday, July 17, 2015: Morning workshop with the super fun Funstrummers in Modesto. Everyone is welcome.
Saturday, July 18, 2015: Workshop and concert at the house of ukulele love,The Strum Shop, in Roseville.
Monday, July 20, 2015: Workshop and concert in San Jose at Atria Willow Glen. Workshop is 2:00 to 3:00 and Concert from 3:30 to 4:30 P.M. Everyone is welcome (Email me for details).
Please join us. We would LOVE to see you and make music together.
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So I happen to glance at my horoscope for Wednesday, June 24, 2015 in the Los Angeles Times, just as I’m composing this blog and it’s like…really? The comedy just writes itself…
Cali
From V.
I always liked you, now with a Saturn , even more. My 2001 Saturn has 235,000 miles and still strong.
Cali
From Y.
Re rude person who cut in front of you. That would NEVER happen in Japan. They are soooo polite and courteous, it’s a culture shock.
You’ve seen when people are let’s say exiting freeway, people drive alongside the line and cut in cuz they don’t want to wait at the end of the long line. not in Japan. They just wait patiently and if someone needs to get into the flow of traffic, people let you in. As a way of saying thank you, they will give two short toots on their horn. I told my cousin IF he ever drove here in Los Angeles, do not do that. Someone might just shoot you!
When you purchase an item, they will give you a bag and if you purchase let’s say three or four, they will give you three or four bags cuz they figure you will be giving to three or four different people. You don’t have to ask for extra bags. When I purchased 5 boxes of sees candies for our trip to Japan, the lady put them in large bag but I asked for 5 smaller bags since I was giving a box to 5 different people. Ok, this is getting long.
You just have to take a trip to Japan.
Cali
From G.
God Bless you, Cali! Don’t these things happen. What is the saying –
Seize the moment. Maybe we should carry kazoos in our cars and when a jerk like this sticks it to us cos we are ‘women’. just pull out that kazoo and happily play a song. bwahahahaha.
Cali
From M.
I gat a few laughs & Uh huhs out of your story. It is fun to write
about our emotional experiences and you do it with a sense of humor &
insight.
Cali here:
This one really got me. Such a little thing set me on fire. Welcome to the human race, I guess. It’s been a couple weeks and I can see the guy’s squirrely, self-satisfied face blinking in my head like a tired commercial on cable.
Cali
From K.
You are the best story teller – your way with words captivates me – thoroughly enjoyed reading your Costco experience. Dudes in trucks – don’t get me started!
Cali
From L.
You said it all! I get my gas at Costco, too, and find it’s always an exercise in patience. Haven’t met the ultimate jerk yet–at Cosco–but have elsewhere. Remember the old Fedco store? I still remember pulling up one day to get gas and had the same thing happen to me–except it was a lady–a very large lady. I got out of my car and said “You cut in front of me.” She cussed up a storm. I repeated all the nastiest swear words I knew and said “I know all those words, too, and you were still rude to cut in.” She fumed–visibly–and roared off, adding a few ethnic slurs. A man in the lane across from me smiled and said, “good for you.” so I felt a bit better, but really–not much. Some people! Had to repeat my mantra–almost for the rest of the day. Thanks for sharing, Cali, and hope you got it off your chest. Stay cool.
Cali
From P.
Couldn’t resist writing back to this one with a little tip that my brother helped me out with. He travels a lot for his job so he rents cars all the time. I was traveling with him once and we had to fill up the rental car — I didn’t know what side to fill up on and he showed me this little trick. Most cars have a small triangle on the gas gauge — your Saturn might be the same. That triangle is pointing to which side the fuel door is on. Hope this helps!
Cali here: My car has that icon on the dash. The problem is that after driving this car for 14 years, I still have to look at the the little gas pump picture right in front of my nose to remind myself where the tank is…
Cali
From D.
That was great! We learn as we go along don’t we? Hopefully we keep refining and redefining ourselves. We don’t always have to have a response or the right response, but stating the facts does release the pent up “gas” in our brain so we don’t hurt ourselves or someone else! Thank you for sharing.
Cali
From Anonymous:
It must be something about Costco. The jerks abound in [the hinterlands] too. Not long ago, as I was parking (correctly, within the lines), a man in a huge truck pulling an equally huge trailer came racing right toward me from the passenger side. He stopped just a few inches from my car door, grinning like…I don’t know what. I’ve lost my writing skills; I can’t even come up with a decent comparison. Anyway, having watched this with horrified eyes, I mouthed “Dipshit” at him. He leaped out of his door and flagged me the bird. LIKE HE WAS IN THE RIGHT. I mean, for cryin’ out loud, he was taking up 4 parking spaces because he was parked across them! Not to mention his gleeful near-collision.
Of course, here in the hinterlands, these things are often settle by gunfire. And everybody except me is packin’ heat always. So all I can do is just try NOT to make them any madder than they already are!
Cali
From Sandra C.
I LOVED this one! Honest to God, Cali, you have got to do a book. This was funny, introspective, and quite wise. Always look forward to your blogs.
Cali
From Jill L.
All I can say is maybe you are overdue for a dose of Kauai.
Cali
From Roger M.
Most later cars have a picture of a gas pump on the gas gauge with an arrow pointing to which side of the car the filler is located. That might solve your first problem. Dealing with jerks is a separate issue. I am a big believer in karma. Hopefully he will get his. He is not worth raising your blood pressure. We need you.
At least you have many friends that love you.
And to put the cherry on on top you have a talented loving husband. See you in class.
Cali
From K.D.
Wonderfully written…and I think we have all been “there” in one form or another from time to time.
I just keep reminding myself that, “stuff (however you want to spell it) happens.
Cali’s response:
Oh yeah! Being kind increases my batting average of encountering kindness, but once in a while the jack-asses slip in. Gotta laugh.
Cali
From Mike K,
I’m sure you look at the little arrow
on the gas guage that shows which
side the filler is on. My wife’s car
is opposite of mine so I get confused
all the time and need to look.
And on behalf of all the jerks out there,
I apologize for all of them.
I try to remember to forgive for my sake,
not theirs….
Brenda
heehee….I know exactly what you mean. I don’t know if I can leave a helpful comment or not because I always find myself getting in the wrong line, etc…but recently I found out that under the little gas sign on most cars, there is a little arrow that points to the side of the car that your tank is on. That has helped me many times. But still, ya gotta love Costco.
Cali
Thanks Brenda! I love Costco too and rarely have issues of “civility” in the store or parking lot. But when this stuff happens, it does give me a chance to learn something about myself. Builds character…and all that stuff. And then I think–thanks, I have enough character now. Ha Ha.
Yeah I do use the fuel tank icon on my dash to remind me what side the tank is on, but after writing this blog, it is seared into my brain. Guess I have the jerky guy to thank for that…