Women are Rude

Before some feminist decides to blast me with this post, let me remind you--I am female. Therefore, if I say women are rude, I'm not being sexist. Duh.

With that out of the way, I can continue on with my story.

I go to a special little HEB hidden away from the large roads in the Pond. I like it because it's less crowded and usually filled with old people on Saturday and Sunday mornings, rather than the larger store on the Road. The Road store is filled with all sorts of issues I'd like to avoid. The first group to avoid is the twenty something roommates and couples filling up their carts with beer, snacks and all the proper ingredients for grilling hamburgers and hot dogs. They tend to stand in the aisle forever, dial their cell phones and ask their mom if jalapenos count as vegetables.

The second group to avoid is the hyperactive mothers dragging their children and husbands behind them with two carts per family screaming, "Get a move on! We've got soccer in 2 hours!" If you see these women coming, duck behind the nearest display quickly. They'd sooner roll over your foot than stop for 6 seconds for you to walk to the next aisle. And avoid the children--they bite. The husbands are harmless--they just oogle.

After dealing with those horrors, I was delighted to find my small HEB. For six months I have enjoyed leisurely steering my cart through elderly couples bickering over the bananas, mothers with well behaved children that don't make me fear the need for a rabies shot when I pass and the occasional bumbling husband and father who is bewilderingly roaming the aisles looking for maxi pads and has gone through the baby section seven times.

That was, until I went to the store Saturday. I had a pleasant experience shopping until I hit the cereal aisle, where the crowds started. There, some overzealous mothers were steering their carts through the aisle like an ocean cruiser on a canal. Still, their lack of etiquette wasn't enough to bother me.

I ignored the woman who shoved me aside in the cheese aisle, and the woman who stared at me until I moved over five inches so she could get the Triskets. In the lotion aisle, however, I had an altercation.

The right side of the aisle was blocked by an older man trying to decide on the proper shaving equipment. Not wanting to make him move, I turned and walked the opposite way down the aisle. Just as I reached the end, a mother and her son pulled their cart in front of a display and blocked the entrance. She began to look at products while the son stood staring in boredom.

I stood waiting patiently. The son saw me and jerked the cart left as far as he could. I moved forward, but still couldn't get through. He looked up at his mother and gestured for her to move. Sighing heavily, she snapped, "God!" and jerked her cart left dramatically.

An isolated incident, I thought as I trotted down the soap aisle. Just a cranky woman. As I reached to get some milk, another woman huffed and slammed the freezer door next to me. I looked into her angry eyes and tried to figure out what I did wrong.

It wasn't over yet. In the checkout aisle, I was placing my items on the conveyor belt when a woman pushed her cart behind me. As I continued to load my stuff on the belt, she began to load her stuff on the end. I raised my eyebrows, but kept loading up. She placed the separator stick between our items, placing it right behind mine. I looked at her in confusion, then moved the stick back and bent down to pick up the gigantic jug of detergent. I stood back up and hoisted the container on the edge as she defiantly shoved the stick towards my items and dared me to contradict her with her stare. That's right--she shoved the stick behind my stuff, piled the rest of her crap behind her, and left me holding a 15 gallon container of detergent.

Fuming, I checked out and loaded my stuff into the car. As I drove through the parking lot, I tried to figure out why she was so rude. Why would all those women have acted that way? Being rude wasn't going to get them out of the store any faster. Seriously--how can people be so pushy and arrogant to think that they are the most important thing in the universe? There were plenty of men in the store, who were all polite as they fought their way through the aisles. Many of them even made a few jokes or smiled as I passed by. Why was the fairer sex being so catty and mean?

Pulling into traffic, I jumped as a horn blared on my right. I turned to look at a woman in a mini-van swerving in front of me, flicking me off as she skidded into the parking lot. It was then I came to the conclusion--women are rude.