Smile though your cart is aching

Late entry for July 25th, 2009

This would be the true test: I would drive to the North Seattle Costco, BBQ shopping list in hand on a busy summer Saturday. I would be patient, kind, friendly, polite, and most of all completely pleasant with a capital “P,” practicing all the skills I’d learned during my first 7 months in North Carolina. Could it work? Would it work?

The first thing that happened is that somebody pulled into the parking space I had been sitting waiting for, baking in the car during the hottest heat wave the city of Seattle has ever seen. Really. It got up to 103 degrees. If that is not evidence of global warming, I don’t know what is. Anyhow, I smiled a broad genuine smile as the driver looked at me while pretending not to see me. No problem. I’m bigger than that. I’m not going to get sucked into a hostility vortex so early in my experiment. I found another spot and walked towards the entrance, people cutting me off right and left in their rush to get in before me. I just breathed calmly and kept a slight Mona Lisa smile on my face. The first surprised response of got was when I warmly greeted the card checker at the door. “How are you holding up today?” The African American woman looked at me quizzically before venturing a response, “uh, fine, I guess.”

I started out in the produce area which is essentially a walk-in cooler. It’s got to be 30 degrees in there but certainly no colder than frigid expressions on the other shoppers faces as they scowled at prices, looking for the best deal. I hummed to myself and selected a few items for my cart. Then, it was off to the freezer section for burgers – beef, salmon & black bean. This is Seattle after all. As I ambled towards the glass doors, a man parked his cart directly in my path and walked a short distance away towards the quesadilla samples being given out. “Excuse me, sir,” I called out cheerily, “would you mind if I moved your cart just a bit?” He tilted his head ever so slightly in my direction and blinked slowly as if to say, “I didn’t hear anything, did I?” When he did not move his cart, I stood there calmly waiting, gazing patiently towards the sample cart with what I hoped was an understanding look on my face. When he came back, I smiled. “Looks good. Maybe I should try one.” He completely ignored me but did move his cart. I loaded up on burgers. The detour to the bun area was mostly uneventful (although I did manage to squeeze in a few smiles, nods and "how are you today"'s) so I headed towards the check out area. As I did, a tiny Asian woman speeding along with a loaded cart at about 40 miles per hour literally crashed right into me. “Oh,” I uttered with genuine surprise, “I’m so sorry, are you ok?” even though it was obviously and totally her fault. She back up a couple of inches, changed her trajectory and headed off towards the dietary supplements. I shook my head in disbelief but quickly regained my composure, determined to stay in character for my social experiment. Just as I got in line, an older man wearing a Hawaiian shirt came scurrying over to me. “I saw that whole thing – people are just so rude, especially those Orientals. I think they should go back to where they came from, don’t you?” This was a stretch for me. I wanted to call him a racist pig and tell him to mind his own damned business. What came out of my mouth surprised even me. I said, “oh, that’s ok, she’s probably got a lot on her mind; it’s no problem.” He stared at me, incredulously. “Are you nuts? She rammed right into you and didn’t say a word!” I just smiled stupidly, nodding. At that point, he turned on his heel and stomped off with frustration at not having found someone to collude with for his racial stereotyping. I stood in the check out line, chatting with the checker and making small talk with the person in line behind me. Then, I was out the door to the car, loading my groceries, proud of myself for keeping my promise, feeling somewhat holier-than-thou. I was also emotionally and physically exhausted from being so darned nice.

Does it count as truly “pleasant” with a capital “P” if one is smug with a capital “S” upon accomplishing one’s pleasantries?? Nope, probably not. Just goes to show, you can take the girl out of the city but you can’t take the city out of the girl. Still, my North Carolina friends would have been proud of me I think. I drove home, tailgating as many cars as I could get away with.