Waiting for Covid-Free Christmas
Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash
Tis the season to be impatient.
2020 brought back an ancient custom, that was nearly extinct—waiting. The psychology of waiting isn’t the wait itself, but the boredom in doing so.
With information a mere click away, waiting seems quite foreign. Like, an old tradition to gawk at in 1950s movies. Surely not something to endure in the digital age.
Lockdown in the United States started in March 2020. Like so many other Americans, I thought it would only last a couple weeks—fourteen days to be exact. Fourteen days extended into a month and ballooned into nine months and counting.
As of December, Covid19 numbers in the United States are exploding with Los Angeles evolving as the new pandemic epicenter.
Now, the world continues to wait. Wait for a vaccination. Wait for herd immunity. Wait for the pandemic to run its course, which can take up to two years.
Living in a world with immediate gratification has made waiting so much harder, especially during the busy Christmas shopping season.
Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash
Every line in the grocery store extended into the food aisles. I had already been waiting for fifteen minutes in the express lane, but fortunately, I was next. At least, that’s what I thought until an old woman cut ahead of me. I blinked with confusion.
“These lines are soooooooooo loooooooooong,” she blustered.
She overtly leaned on her parked cart, as if she were some decrepit old lady. She showed no indication that she was simply passing by.
“Yes. Me, and all of these people behind me, are actually waiting in this line,” I offered.
She glanced at all the people behind me, though I suspected she knew they were already there. Hence her initial observation that would suggest she was firing on all cylinders.
“Oh,” she responded curtly.
She did not appear to be in any kind of distress nor did she say anything to the effect of, “I’m having a very hard day. Do you mind if I go ahead of you?” That would be a completely different matter.
Instead, she blatantly stared, like we were in a Mexican stand-off. She tapped her fingers while waiting for me to “kindly offer” to let her go ahead.
“Um…do you need to get through?” I asked, but her cart didn’t budge an inch. She huffed at my question.
“Well, where’s the old lady line?” she protested as if to suggest the express lane, for ten items or less, was known to the underground as “the old lady line.”
Photo by Markus Spiske on Unsplash
First of all, if you’re going to play a part, have the dedication to go all the way. Second, there’s a time and place to play the “old lady” card.
First in line for the Covid19 vaccination? Absolutely. First in line to board a plane? Totally get it. Cutting in line because you don’t feel like waiting at Trader Joe’s? Not so much. We continued to eyeball one another.
Forget the fact that I only had three items vs. her cart, which had considerably more than ten. If her best argument for cutting, is that she’s old and may not have much time left on this planet, who’s to say that she has less time than me?
I could leave the store and get hit by a bus for all anyone knows. That same logic also suggests she’s already had more time here. And, since I’m younger with less time on the clock, isn’t my time just as valuable, if not even more so now? Just making the counterargument.
The communication studies scientist inside of me was DYING to see how this would play out if I denied her. My money was on her making a second attempt, but with more mindful target selection.
“I’m sure if you keep walking, you’ll find that line,” I suggested.
She pierced her eyes at me before she pushed her cart towards the next line. Sure enough, she performed the EXACT same move only this time, she picked someone highly unsuspecting, and with greater appreciation for societal etiquette.
Photo by Erin Mckenna on Unsplash
I even overheard the old lady talk smack with her new buddy, for she referred to me as “some damn kid who doesn’t understand.”
I wonder if her little tactic works during the senior shopping hour? Sadly, I’ll never know.
A kind Christmas gesture goes a long way, but only when freely given, out of the goodness of your heart. Whereas if it’s thrust upon you, and you’re made to feel like a jerk for not obliging, not so much. Especially, when it inconveniences at least a dozen other people who didn’t need to wait any longer themselves.
Hopefully, she did (not) have to wait (too long). Have a safe and happy holiday!
“When that morning comes, we can count our blessings. It was worth it all along, waiting for Christmas with you.”
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