In the arduous process of civilizing our feral offspring, waiting our turn and learning to stand in line are among the most tedious lessons. Yet it’s one of the most useful life skills because life is mostly about waiting - somewhere. Waiting at the doctor’s office, waiting to merge on the freeway, waiting at the grocery store, waiting for someone to call you back. It’s maddening but over the years, I’ve managed to deaden my Type A tics and tremors to a nervous knee bounce or antsy weight shift as I stand in line.
When I’m at Mommy & Me or at the park with my two-year-old, I’m constantly telling him to “wait your turn” on the slide, even as unsupervised kids push and shove in front of him. When he protests, I try to be cool about it and say, “I’m sorry, but we were waiting for a turn” or something to that effect. Inevitably, the kid will ignore us and just go down the slide anyhow, while I earn a glare from the previously inattentive parent, who only seems to notice another parent’s feeble attempts to curtail their offsprings narcissistic behavior.
But it becomes increasingly difficult to extoll the virtues of waiting your turn or standing in line when kids witness grownups who simply refuse to get with the program on a daily basis. I don’t know if it’s a sense of entitlement or a rise in narcissism, but I’ve had countless experiences with people (middle-aged men and little old ladies in particular) who blithely cut in front of me in line. This makes my blood boil. They always act affronted and enraged that I could be so rude to point out their rudeness.
The elderly line cutters are the most frustrating because I almost never say anything to them out of deference for their seniority and for the assumption that it was an unintentional senior moment. But ever since I became a mom, I’ve had my doubts about these so-called frail senior citizens. I’m starting to think it’s a selective feebleness. The average little old lady wearing coke-bottle glasses and pushing a walker can spot a newborn baby across a parking lot and navigate the cars and people with the speed and dexterity of a ninja. In a heartbeat, they’ll show up at your elbow and detain you for a half-hour with unsolicited advice and drool all over your baby.
But anybody under the age of 65 gets called out by me, politely, of course. But inevitably it gets ugly and sometimes I wonder if it’s worth the unpleasantness of the confrontation to save a few minutes of standing in line. Each time it happens, I wage an internal battle over whether to ignore the transgression to preserve the peace or confront the perp? 9 times out of 10, I will say something, especially if my kids are watching. Why? Because in addition to abiding by society’s rules, I also have to demonstrate the necessity to stand up for yourself from time to time - within reason. Of course, I pick my battles. If the person looks crazy or dangerous - what’s the point?
But as long as there are lines, there will be line cutters. It’s as inevitable as death and taxes. And don’t think that just because I’m a tiny person, I’ll be too intimidated to say anything (I know that’s why you always pick me to cut in front of). Think twice before cutting in front of that petite, 5 ft 3 Asian chick with curly hair. I do speak English and I WILL send you to the back of the line - where you belong!
