The Algae at the Bottom of the Gene Pool

Okay, first off, I hate going to our local super-duper market.  It’s very nice, with every kind of product known to man, but they intentionally keep the aisles very narrow to trap you in the store so the odds of your buying something on impulse are high.

Compounding that, people invariably leave their carts in the middle of an aisle and wander off.  Or they stop in the aisle for an “Old Home Week” conversation with a neighbor they just haven’t seen for ages.  If you try to politely go around them, you get a dirty look.  Gah.

But, I went today in what I thought would be a “touch and go” operation to pick up my prescription of happy pills estrogen.  Was I wrong.

I don’t know if it was because it was a Saturday or what, but the store was loaded with what appeared to be extras straight out of “Deliverance.”

And then the large woman behind the pharmacy counter greeted me with a glare. Maybe she just suffered from RBF or “resting bitchy face.”  Whatevah.  I made my purchase and gratefully exited the store.

I’d left my car in an area off to the side of the drive-thru pharmacy where there were a lot of empty spaces around me.  Of course, when I came out, there was a car next to the driver’s side of my car.

The woman driver and her hulking lout of a teenager were farting around with their doors wide open.  The teenager was leaning against a small dirt bike, with which he effectively blocked my approach. His back was to me, so as I was walking toward him I pressed the unlock button on my key, hoping the beeps and the flashing lights would wake him up to the fact that I needed to get past him to get into my car.

Just as I was behind him he made this godawful hawking noise, drawing from deep down in his sinuses and the back of his throat. I knew what was coming and I was powerless to stop it.

He spat an enormous, thick yellow loogie right in front of me on the ground!

I froze in my tracks.  He languidly turned around and mumbled “Sorry.”

As quickly as I could, I dodged around him and practically fell into my car.  I fervently hoped that I didn’t step in the gross blob, and I don’t think I did, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to check the bottom of my shoes because at that moment I just wanted to step on the gas and flee.

I think we need a little more chlorine in the gene pool.


12 thoughts on “The Algae at the Bottom of the Gene Pool

  1. I hate shopping in narrow aisles, as I can guarantee that someone will be blocking the exact shelf where I want to go, and do they GLARE at you if you ask them politely to move. At least you got an apology from the lad, even if it was mumbled. Better still was he didn’t land that gob on your car! As for the pharmacist, it was probably constipation. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I have never consciously left any of my DNA in the street, aside from the airborne effects of a sudden sneeze or cough, but something of pooling substance: God no and never. About 45 years ago, my brother, Axel, and I were looking over a railing at an empty college campus playing field. On impulse Axel started spitting over the railing. I said, “Why are you doing that? What’s wrong with you?” Sheepishly, he said, “Guys spit!” I said, “Yeah, and they tug at their balls and scratch their butts. Are you going to start that crap, too? Dad doesn’t.” That effectively ended Axel’s spitting. We were not raised to be crude people. What amazes me is that what was once common lower class male behavior, is that women in present day NYC have begun doing the same. Some might say this reflects the equality of the sexes. At the risk of sounding like an advocate of Emily Post or Miss Manners, I think this is just a further reflection of the decline of Western Civilization.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. We used to refer to the “me generation” . It is now the me me me generation S.
    I miss kindness and thoughtfulness. I hate it that people are more interested in their phones than their friends when in a group. It spills over into the way people drive etc.
    Sad to see this happening. The ugly American is plural now.

    Liked by 1 person

    • The “ugly American” indeed. Reminds me of when my late father-in-law and his wife went to Europe as part of a very expensive tour group. All they could do when they returned was bitch about the “foreigners” over there and how nobody made a good cup of coffee.


  4. I was once called an asshole in a grocery store for politely stepping around someone who was blocking the peanut butter because they’d stopped to browse the coupons for three and a half days. I’ve never intentionally hawked up anything in public, but if I’d known what they were driving I would have taken a big swig of eggnog and left a little something on their windshield. Or maybe the door handle.

    I’m just saying there are times when it’s acceptable. Right in the middle of the pavement where someone else needs to go is not one of those times. And anyone who doesn’t understand the difference definitely needs to be stuck behind the lifeguard’s chair in the gene pool.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Agree there are times people deserve it.
      Nothing is more annoying than two friends or neighbors side by side chatting, blocking the lane and then give me THE LOOK when I say “Excuse me please”. There is more I want to say but bite my tongue.

      Liked by 2 people

    • Ha! My husband does most of our shopping at this store and he would agree with you about the three and a half day coupon browser. Too funny, but too true.

      The thing that got me about this kid was his mother (I’m presuming) said nothing. Maybe she horked up her own loogie on the pavement after I left.

      Liked by 1 person

  5. Oh! Narrow aisles in stores: hate ’em. Also, hate when they make the store purposely confusing and hide stuff (like the old milk at the back of the supermarket) and the exits and the escalators (in department stores) to keep you in the store longer. One time (of many) I put my foot in my mouth, but it was on this subject and I ended up being glad I did. It was years ago and I was interviewing a store designer for an article about how to maximize profits through store design. I blurted out, “But that’s like the Bloomingdale’s here in New York. God, I hate that store and avoid it at all costs.”

    There was silence on the line. Then she said, “I designed that store.”

    Hee hee.

    Liked by 1 person

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