Another Pet Peeve

It’s been a while since I started my list of pet peeves, and since the act of not completing things is one of my pet peeves, I thought I should take another swing at it. The great thing about Pet Peeves is that they are never far from us. Try as we might to rise above them, they have a way of grabbing our ankles and pulling us back down to their level.

So that’s where I find myself, knee deep in an itchy field of peeves, digging under my skin like a nest of irritating chiggers. The old ones are always there, waving at me like that annoying person at the office who always announces my arrival far too loudly. New peeves show up unexpectedly, a constant reminder that the world enjoys tormenting me.

Recently I was at Wal-Mart, where I parked in the back forty and dodged SUVs’ and mini-vans on my way to the door. As I approached the entrance, I was attacked by six or eight high school cheerleaders. It was tough to tell exactly how many there were because they all moved very fast, and laughed in the same high pitched giggle. They were all in their official cheerleader outfits and adorned with one single ponytail which seemed to bounce on the back of their heads as if stuck on a permanent spring.

As a pair of mothers watched from lawn chairs, the girls attempted to block my path and excitedly begged for a donation to their cause. When I asked what their “cause” might be, they all responded with overlapping chatter about “cheerleader camps” and expenses, etc., etc., etc. I stopped listening after the first five words.

Now, I don’t mind giving to a worthy cause. I have a hard time passing a Salvation Army kettle at Christmas time without dropping some change or bills in the slot. I’ve also been on the other side of the requesting. As a parent of Girl Scouts, I’ve done my time at the cookie booth. The difference with that was that we were selling something. People love Girl Scout cookies. They don’t mind paying a ridiculously high amount for a box of fourteen cookies that you can’t get any other time of year.

What bugged me about the cheerleaders was the fact that they weren’t selling anything. They wanted me to give them money because they were high spirited. They didn’t know who they were talking to.

I’ve seen the “Bring it On” movies, so I know the kind of shallow, self-importance that girls in matching short skirts can easily develop. I was also the guy that their predecessors ignored in high school. I’m the guy who remembers the “popular kids” table…and how there was never a seat for me. No, I had little sympathy for their plight.


My money stayed in my pocket as I lied to them and said “sorry, no change.” Their smiles collapsed and their shoulders dropped. I’m pretty sure I saw their ponytails deflate a bit too. It was obvious that they were not used to rejection. It’s a tough lesson for ones so young, but they were in my world now. Rejection is a fact of life.


So anyway, back to my point about pet peeves. I go in and grab a gallon of milk and a loaf of bread, and when I approached the express lane, this crazy lady rushed in front of me with thrity two items in her cart. That's right, thirty two! She didn't barely go over the twenty item limit, she went far enough to lose points on her license and increase the price of her insurance.


Needless to say, I was peeved.


I checked out quickly once she made it through the line and then hurried to beat her to the outer door. As I passed through the bouncing gauntlet of cheeleaders, I pointed behind me and said "she paid in cash...lots of change." The girls clapped and pounced on her like lions on a limping wildebeest.

Sometimes, it takes very little to make me smile.