Judging Others--Justifiably Unjust?

I very much want to be more generous and good-willed with regards to my acceptance of others. Even though I am making concerted and consistent efforts to let go of my propensity/hobby of making snap judgments about other people, the truth is that I have not yet wrestled this gremlin to the ground. Not to exonerate myself from the blame I know is mostly my own, the fact still remains that I feel my efforts are thwarted by a rather enormous obstacle which frequently blocks my path. This roadblock is that I often meet people who, for one reason or another, make it very difficult for me to like them. And yes, I think they do it on purpose.

Just yesterday, I went to CVS to pick up some essentials, or what my brother loves to call “incidentals.” Whenever we are driving anywhere and the time in the car is estimated to exceed about thirty minutes, he cannot resist stopping at a convenience store in order to pick up these so-called “incidentals.” They invariably entail five to eight different brands of protein/energy bars because he just might, incidentally, find himself stuck in traffic and in need of a snack. He does not like to go hungry, my brother. But anyway, I was at the CVS check-out and was purchasing my version of essentials/incidentals: Trident sugar free gum in original flavor (which every so often, inexplicably, tastes like bananas) and Burt’s Bees (addictive) almond hand lotion.

Unsurprisingly, given the uncomplicated matter at hand, all was going according to plan. I hardly had the opportunity to sniff the snafu wafting in the air, when I abruptly noted that the customer in front of me was raising a rather subdued—but still persistent—stink about the fact that she felt she had a $1 coupon coming her way and the cashier seemed to be incapable of making this coupon appear.

Now, maybe it is just me, but I felt a tad badly for the cashier. She was college-aged, clearly confused, and likely did not give a fat one about the coupon. Still, she feigned (fairly believable) concern and went to find her manager. The reason I feel badly for her is because those automated registers just seem to spew out whatever the heck they want to; I firmly believe that nothing they produce has the remotest thing to do with the person operating the machinery. Evidence to this belief lies in the genuine surprise elicited when a ten foot long receipt comes out and the cashier looks up in shock as he/she delightedly exclaims: “You have COUPONS!” The shock and wonder would be as apt as if a pony had been produced. So this cashier/budding actress takes off, and the woman in front of me tries to engage me in conversation regarding her situation.

Unbeknownst to her, I neither cared about nor wanted to be a part of her drama. Frankly, I felt she was a behaving a bit selfishly, what with the line being about six people deep and incidentals waiting to be bought by all. The problem was that she was one of those people.

You know those people. The ones that want to pull in innocent bystanders (in this case, me) and will not let up until their victim of the moment has uttered some sort of empathetic nugget that assures them that their position is well understood. Now, despite the fact that I have, of course, dealt with incompetent and frustrating sales people at many a check-out counter, and therefore could easily muster up some camaraderie aimed at the man keeping us all down, on principle I refused in that moment to give any cause for team-building. Dollar off would not be pulling me over to her dark side by coaxing me into an admission that I too, have “been there.”

I was not merely being stubborn, although that was a component of my reaction. Moreover, I was making a statement. While I am all for people saving a buck, especially in this economy, I simply will not play any part in perpetuating the unnecessary drama that seems to define the eternally beleaguered in our society. As such, I have not, and will not, as a rule, make CVS check-out clerks run around to managers who are never available. By the way, what do those CVS managers do anyway? Has anyone ever noticed that it takes them an inordinately long time to come to the “front of the house” whenever they are summoned on those crazy microphone telespeaker things? What happens in the back rooms of CVS anyway? It must be so gosh darn BUSY back there.

So the woman/stink-raiser turns to me and says: “Why would I lie? I mean I know I have this coupon coming, right? Why would I lie?” I suppose, at this point, she was looking for validation as to her upstanding character as a non-liar, but as I did not know her from Adam, I just stared dumbly ahead, trying to see which Hollywood star was spotted with (gasp!) cellulite on the cover of the most recent OK! Magazine (speaking of liars, do the people who publish that magazine even have a conscience?). Fortunately, the girl came back, harried-looking manager in tow, and passed off my non-lying, non-friend to her. Even though she was likely now out of my life forever, I could not shake the itching notion that I simply did not like the woman. I really wish she had left me out of it.

All hope was not lost however: by way of cancelling out my dislike for the stink-raising stranger, I was excited about being kind to the cashier, especially since I had worked up some sympathy for her cause during my time serving as a primary witness to the whole coupon debacle. As she started to scan my first incidental, she caught a glimpse of someone she knew. A true multi-tasker, as she checked me out, this was the conversation I witnessed:

Check-out: “OH MY GOD!!!! Britney!!! How are you, hon? Your hair looks AMAZING!!!”

Britney: “I know, right? I love it. What are you doing?!”

Check-out: “Just working.” Eye roll. “You missed the PIRATE party.”

Britney: “Oh my God, I know. But, like, my little brother was in town. I love him, he is just so cute. He was in town with five of his friends. So other than him, there were six of them. Wait, no, I mean there were six of them INCLUDING him. They were just so cute. I love them.”

Check-out: “So what did you do?”

Britney: “Well, oh my God. He was so wasted! He is just so cute. I love him. But when they got here, I was already at a party. So they came and then we were ALL so wasted. They left this morning before I got up. They wrote this note and it was so cute. It was like: ‘We had so much fun and you and your friends are so cool.’ He is just so cute, I love him. So what are you doing?”

Check-out: “Oh, just working” (spoken as if the question had not just been answered 10 seconds ago, but I guess Britney does have a tendency towards repetition, so maybe Check-out was used to it). “Better get back to it. Bye. Love you.”

Britney: “Bye. Love you.”

Check-out then halfheartedly turned her attention to my receipt that was printing (incidentally, with a $1 coupon, but thank goodness the stink-raiser was too busy being a martyr with the frazzled manager to notice). So, all charm now (I am telling you the girl is missing her true calling as a soap opera actress), she directly addresses me for the first time: “A customer survey came up and if you fill it out, that would be great. Just go to the website and it will ask you questions, and you have to rate your experience here on a scale of 1-5. But if you give anything less than a 5, then this store will only get zeros. So could you fill in all fives? Thanks.”

Isn’t she just so cute? And yet, somehow, I do not love her.

Good thing I purchased my incidentals; roadblocks are clearly everywhere.