Last week, I was in line at the grocery store. I had just finished a hardcore workout at the gym and was starving, so I popped in to pick up a few things. Meanwhile, my Blackberry was going off … emails, questions, work to be done. My mom was calling. My friends were texting about plans for the evening. And most unfortunately, the old woman in front of me was hell-bent on saving $1 on six cans of chicken broth with an expired coupon. Of course the checkout girl wouldn’t let her use the coupon—she smacked her gum and rolled her eyes instead. The old woman persisted in broken English: “One dollar off chicken broth! It say one dollar off chicken broth!” This scene went on like a broken record until finally the checker had to leave her station and get the manager. This process took no less than 20 minutes and the line continued to multiply. The voice inside my head started screaming, until finally I blurted out, “There are other people waiting here! F**k the soup!” It was the F-bomb heard ‘round the grocery store. I immediately felt ashamed as I looked around at all the other seemingly calm shoppers. What happened to me? Why did I fly into a rage? Keep reading »
