Common courtesy not so common
I don’t think it’s me. Needing a bottle of hair shampoo, I recently walked into one of our local variety stores to find the cheapest they offered. I won’t spend a lot of money on soaps, shampoos, etc., simply because if they get me squeaky clean, I’m happy. I don’t need added vitamins or conditioners or tonics. And I especially don’t want anything with some artificial flowery or herbal scent. I like to be odor neutral.
I generally purchase the largest bottle I can find, again going for value and convenience. The bigger the bottle, the less often I have to replenish the supply. So, I end up getting shampoo maybe twice a year. If they sold it in gallon containers, it would be even less often.
The shelves were full of all kinds of bottles, different bottles, bearing such appellations as “Naturally scented with balsam and violets,” or “A delightful mix of fruity wonders.” I searched and searched for a bottle that just said “shampoo, unscented.” I walked further down the aisle but the bottles just got more costly.
Turning back, my path was blocked by a woman with a shopping cart. She was looking at the cheaper shampoos, too. Only instead of reading the labels, she was opening each one and sniffing it.
I waited. And I waited. I waited some more. She went through bottle after bottle, unscrewing the caps. As I waited, I saw the type I wanted on a shelf right above the woman’s head. I had no idea if she was going to open every bottle on display or not. I excused myself and carefully reached over her head. I don’t think she even noticed or heard me.
Part of my shopping that evening included picking up some lunchmeat. And, naturally, the refrigerated case containing the lunchmeat also held hot dogs. There was a man, standing in front of the case, reading a hot dog package. Trying to be polite and not pushy, I waited, figuring he would notice me standing there.
He didn’t. In fact, he opened the cooler door and took out another pack of wieners. He placed two packs into his shopping cart before reaching in and taking out another two packs. They were the same brand of hot dog, but he had to read the label again. I cleared my throat. He kept reading. Then he reached in and took out two more packages of hot dogs and stacked them in his shopping cart. He stood, peering into the case, closed the door, turned and restacked the half-dozen packages of hot dogs he had in his cart.
By this time I was curious to see how long it would take before he noticed me standing there. After a moment or two more, he turned, said, “Excuse me,” and walked down the aisle. But he left his shopping cart directly in front of the cooler door where the hot dogs and lunchmeat were kept.
It was very humid in the store and I was sweating profusely, partly because of the dampness in the air, but I think more because my blood pressure was rising.
Truculently, I heaved his cart out of the way, reached into the cooler, took out a lone package of lunchmeat and stalked off to the checkout line.
I thought I had seen everything. Until, in a semi-public restroom, I found I hadn’t.
Entering a stall to take care of a natural event, I couldn’t help but overhear someone speaking in the next cubicle. At first I thought he was talking to me. Before I could respond, I noticed there were pauses in his conversation. He was talking on a cell phone. In a stall in a restroom while seated upon a toilet.
Okay. I’m as avante garde as the next person. But I don’t want to carry on a telephone conversation from the bathroom. I mean, putting it delicately, there are sounds we humans emit during certain times that, frankly, are better kept private.
I wondered if it would be polite to flush the toilet as I started to leave. I couldn’t believe I was thinking that. Polite to flush the toilet? How polite is it to involve some innocent passerby in a phone conversation from the bathroom? Did I flush? You bet I did.
Am I complaining? Yes. Do I have a lot of patience? Up to a point.
When it comes down to common sense and showing good manners, it seems more people of all ages are missing the point.
Maybe we just need a little reminder that there are millions of other people on this planet.
Have a good day.
James Pletcher Jr. is Herald-Standard business editor. He can be reached at 724-439-7571 or by e-mail at jpletcher@heraldstandard.com.