In a Hurry

In a Hurry

“Oh no, she did not just yell at me.” It took a moment to comprehend what she had said. Then I told my husband that I had to let him go. I had called him just a moment ago to tell him about this rude lady who was in front of me at the ATM. Pulling up a few minutes earlier as usual I was in a hurry. I felt like I had given this person the common courtesy I would expect. I didn’t pull up on her bumper. I left plenty of distance and I had even waited patiently for a few minutes. “Maybe she didn’t know I was back here.” It’s possible she didn’t see me.” I observed the car for a moment and realized that she had just been sitting there. There was no movement. Her arm never even came out of the window. “What in the world is she doing? I don’t have time for this.”

I impatiently gave the horn just a little friendly toot, always remembering my polite southern heritage. Moving back down to the south after living in the north for 14 years, I feel that I have two angels on my shoulder. My southern angel, who was raised with sweet southern hospitality and my northern angel who is outspoken and impatient. I consider myself a half-breed, a mutt. I was no longer southern but I really wasn’t northern either. Lost in thought for a moment I didn' hear the words that she yelled at me, I just heard the ugly tone of her voice. I stuck my head out of my window and yelled some rude comment back to the lady. I honestly don’t know what I said. Adrenaline was flowing through my veins from my anger and acting totally out of character. To my disbelief I heard “well if you come up here and help me I can get done faster”.

Stepping out of my car with extreme irritation reflected in my face I marched up to the car. “What do you need help with?” When I looked in her window my anger deflated like a hot air balloon. How could I be rude to her, she reminded me of my own mother when I was trying to teach her how to use an ATM. That older generation that seem to struggle with the fast pace of technology, always afraid they are going to push the wrong button. As I was standing beside this unknown ladies car I felt ashamed of myself. My mother raised me better then that. I would pay my penitence by teaching her how to use the ATM. Verbally I gave her instructions politely looking away when she entered her PIN. Finally, after the third try I swallowed my impatience and sweetly asked her for her PIN. Yes ma’me automatically came out of my mouth punching the keys, trying to tamper down my impatience. I went through the steps which I could probably have completed blindfolded and out popped the money.

As I turned to leave I heard her say, "I'm sorry for being ugly to you." Of course I said that I was sorry too. Then she siad "the next time we meet let's be friends". My respons was just a "yes ma'me". Chuckling as I walked back to my car I realized that in the end I was born and bred southern. You may go and live somewhere else for a while but you never really lose your southern values. It just must be a southern thang.