So here I am standing in line at Tropical Smoothie, ordering my usual (Pomegranate Plunge with no sweeteners) where “Mildred” (names have been changed to protect the idiotic) plants herself no less than eight inches behind me.
What happened to “personal space”? All I want to do is hand the seventeen year old cashier my credit card, get my receipt and move to the “pick up” line, but I can’t even move. Now, usually I’m not one much for “personal space” but this was just uncalled for. I’m certainly not claustrophobic, but I couldn’t breath over the stench of Mildred’s moth ball perfume and recent perm odor.
Obviously her mother never taught her that there are a few places when you are NEVER to stand as close to someone as possible:
1. Any check-out line (grocery store, the Post Office, amusement parks, etc)
2. The line for the ATM (it’s just common courtesy)
3. The salad bar line
Some people just don’t care where you are, they will be right behind you. As if that extra foot will help them get to the beginning of the line any quicker.
Whenever I feel someone too close to me in line, my automatic reaction is to back up, which usually leads to me stepping on toes…but that’s the price you pay for basically sniffing the back of my neck.
The next time you’re behind someone in line, take note of how close you stand to them because I promise you that they’re taking note themselves.
That just blows my skirt up.