The Beautiful Sheeple

Yesterday, I headed to Target and Toys R Us to do some shopping for my nieces and nephew after determining it's cheaper for me to buy locally and ship their gifts via the good ol' USPS. (Plus, Aunt Angie loves to wrap the gifts in festive metallic paper with equally-fetching tags. What kid wants to see dull Amazon giftwrap?)

Of course, on a Friday night, everyone else had the same idea of shopping after work. So, all roads leading to and from Portland resembled a string of lights on a Christmas tree - beads of headlights equidistant from one vehicle to the next. Having worked retail from my senior year of high school to the end of my college days, I expected long lines and was aptly prepared - I park the farthest away all of the time to get "extra steps" in when I shop anyway, so I was not raising my fist to the high heavens if someone nabbed "my" parking spot because no one wants to walk more than 100 feet to the mall and my space is always a helluva farther than that.

Pulling into the parking lot at Toys R Us, I realized that not everyone understands the basic concept of patience - flashing your high beams at people to hurry it up, or speeding into a space to ensure that "other fellow" doesn't get it, or doing the "parking lot stalker" routine (where you follow someone holding keys).

Driving in a parking lot becomes an Olympic sport around the holidays.

Inside the store, toys are strewn everywhere - as if Godzilla took a detour from downtown Tokyo and decided to visit Geoffrey and his pals. Harried associates answer questions, grip walkie talkies, and patiently walk people to their destination. The aftermath of a day of holiday shopping for these employees is like afterbirth - it comes out after you think the pain is gone and it's a bloody mess.

Two frazzled parents, each gripping their obligatory Starbucks coffees while the mom fingered a massive Coach bag, demanded to know where the Wii was and wanted to know now as her son "had to have one." A group of shoppers knocked toys off the shelf and showed no desire to pick up the mess they left in the wake of their shopping tsunami.

However, most of the people I encountered in my quest for a Leapster game for my niece, Tonka truck for my nephew, and Melissa and Doug puzzle for my other niece, were rude and downright idiotic. Elbows reaching in front of people's faces without thinking they might hit someone in the face; an Accord speeding in the parking lot to nab a space with children and elderly walking in plain sight; couples arguing over the "best" PS3 game at a level deemed appropriate for talking at a concert; and customers telling cashiers to "hurry it up."

After making my purchase, I got into my car, drove the speed limit (yes, even in my car), and settled home to a quiet evening of Thelonius Monk and Auto Week with some Pad Kee Mao for dinner.

Sure, I was one of the sheeple for the night, but this gal knows when to say, "Baaah" and be the black sheep by actually respecting people and not doing "what everyone else is doing (i.e., being rude and disrespectful)" simply because it's expected this time of year.