Ramble

     I beg your pardon if this sounds like I'm rambling, but I've been surprised by the number of crotchety old women I've interacted with today.  Where is that tipping point that causes some women to cross the line from holding a snotty comment in and letting it go?  Is it at a particular age or maybe a traumatic life point in the sand?  Maybe you just get fed up living with some sense of propriety in public, and one day, the switch flips and you just decide to tell it like it is.   
     At home, my mother rarely held her true feelings inside her head.  While in public or in front of friends and family, she held it all in check.  She used to tell the three of us, I don't care what you do to each other when we're at home, but I swear to God you better never do anything to embarrass me when we're in public.  Then one day, her switch flipped and everyone was privy to everything.  My sister and I used to think that some of it was related to her first mini-stroke and the rest of it was reaching an age at which she stopped giving a fuck.  It was like her crotchety could no longer be contained. 
     Today, it was like a containment field broke, because one little old lady after another was throwing shade, muttering, sighing, making sarcastic comments ... the list goes on.  During the early morning rush, as I asked how I could help several customers, two in a row suggested I stop talking to them and get behind a register.  Later in the day, another one had to wait 15 minutes to sit with my co-worker to resolve her issue, not bad considering there was someone waiting before her.  Halfway through, her grandson appeared out of nowhere to check on her progress.  She loudly proclaimed that she wasn't ready yet and had been waiting 45 minutes.  You have to laugh.
     On a side note, after a long day of dealing with said crotchety old ladies, I found comfort in driving to Boston Market to get dinner for the family.  I flipped through various mix-CD's in the car, and I was performing - just belting it out with my alter-ego diva.  The music was loud, and I was driving as though I was driving something other than a 10 year old, rusted mini-van.  I'm working on keeping my switch in the upright position.