Priorities

I've decided my priorities are cookies. Yep, that's right, round, little, doughy, sugary, chocolaty, fresh out of the oven, morsels from heaven. Or any gesture that resembles cookies.

This week hasn't been the best of weeks. Some truck drivers don't make the best company in the world. Some are just mean, others are dirty, smelly jackoffs who don't deserve the right to be out in public. I feel okay saying that because I saw a driver on Monday who apparently repeatedly shit his pants and didn't feel weird about walking into a store to make a few purchases, smell the place up, and leave in the same condition in which he entered. The stores I call on offer showers for drivers. I feel that if you are going to shit your pants and are stopping in a place where you can shower, you should most definitely take advantage. That's just me though. That also has nothing to do with what I am writing about now but I just wanted someone else to feel my horror. Hopefully some of you will read this and be almost as repulsed as I was. I figure you can't be completely repulsed, because you weren't there to see first hand just how thoroughly one's poo can saturate one's pants.

Back to mean drivers, the whole point of my story. I do not work for the stores I call on. I service product lines in stores I call on for an outside company. When things aren't happening as a driver would like, it's not always the fault of the people who work for the store. I can promise you that it is most definitely not my fault unless you are really offended by the looks of a cell phone display or I lose it someday and physically attack someone.

As of Tuesday I hated my job. Three drivers in two days decided that they were not happy enough screaming and throwing temper tantrums that rival that of a three year old who lost his lollipop, so they brought me, the outsider, into the loop by taking advantage of my accessibility and throwing things at me. Granted, they all threw like sissies, and it only consisted of a bottle cap, a wadded up piece of paper, and a pack of socks, but it was rude.

Near the end of the second day, in NJ, I am near the checkout yet again as another punk who sounded like minnie mouse decided to go off, which of course, involved throwing something my way. I, at that point felt like a smart ass, and said to the girl behind the counter, let me know when he gets really mad...oh, wait he is...they all seem to think it's ok to throw things at me this week when they get mad. A few drivers in line behind him were appalled as I was telling her about it, one told me I should have thrown things back at them (I should have!) In any case, the punk apparently wasn't strong enough to handle the glares of other drivers so he yelled some more before running out of the store and I went about servicing my product.

Some time had passed, and I was focused on getting done when out of nowhere one of those drivers that had been in line found me and handed me a pack of cookies. Said something to the effect that he wanted to make sure I had some good point in my week and not everyone throws things. The gesture as much as the many, many chocolate chips made my day. And if things keep going like they have been, most likely my week. He was smiling, I was smiling. It was a very nice thing to do.

Don't be like the minnie punk people, hand out cookies. You might just remind a person that not everyone they come in contact with aren't worthy to be the funk you get all over your shoes in the park.