A Call to Armless Struggle

.
How old are you?

Really, how old are you? And if you don't mind my asking, Why do you fucking have to have exact change when paying for everything? Is there some kind of fucking union that forces you to first, COLLECT coin, and then DISTRIBUTE coin? I mean, why do you ALL fucking do it! Men, women, old kids, do it. They are compelled to go up to cashiers with a bag full of change. Have you ever noticed it. They never come up with cold, hard cash and peel some lettuce. Those that do, are not all that old. I'm talking about the elderly.



I don't know if you noticed it, but I've noticed it all over. When I was in Florida,  when I was in North Carolina, Massa- chusetts, California, and in New York. Old people have this trembling, confused way about them. When they come up to the counter, like I've said before, it seems as if they are under the impression that the cashier is going to literally give them the items that they've brought to the counter. They have their purses closed, their money bag tied tight an stare at the cash register total as if it's in Chinese.

AND THEN THE FUCKING FUN BEGINS.


NOW, they reach for their purses. The old men too...they have change purses. And they have to search for them at first. This is a two pronged attack. First, they go for the cash if need be, and then the coin. The cash is always crumpled up, and has to be meticulously un-crumpled to check it's denomination. The funny thing is that as they un-crumple each bill and lay it out, they do so ever so slowly and carefully, until they've finished all of the cash that they have. Now it's time to go rooting through their pockets or purses again.


And then after retrieving their change purses, they upend them on the counter, spilling change all over. With care they pull the coins back towards them, then with a finger, slide a coin up to the center of the counter, followed by another, and another. But instead of doing this by the coin, like quarters first, then dimes, then nickels, which are easier to count that way - they start pushing the closest coin to their finger. When done this way, it's harder to count. 25, 30, 31, 32, 37, 62...you know what I mean? So in moments, Granny and Pappy Dirt are lost in trying to count their change. It doesn't happen fast enough though. It takes them five minutes of meandering to lose track.



You are pulling your hair out at this point. I mean, what the fuck else can you do? So is the cashier. When the elderly person(s) realize that they have to do the entire count again the cashier does it for them, this time separating the coins by their proper denominations and then separating the amounts. In moments, they've counted out the exact change, allowing Pappy Dirt to push all of his change all the way back into his change purse and get to move on with his short life.


All the while, he (or she) is talking to you at a million miles an hour with a  cheese eating, KoolAid grin on his face. It's enough to drive you mad. And whenever I'm behind an elderly person, I've come to expect it. The thing is, I'm prepared for this shit when I get older. I'm bucking the system, because if its not a system in place that is causing all of our old people to act this insane then it could only be one other thing.


The desire not to disappear. And this disturbs me. The older you get, the more you fade away, disappear, become nothing to family, friends, society. Then the change thing would only therefore be a cry for recognition, a shout for attention that is a painful cry, or wailing. They are begging for whatever little attention that they can get, so desperate to have someone just notice them for an instant. Just a moment, even if it's just to wait on line behind them, or count their change.


Think about that the next time you are standing behind one of them, waiting for your turn at the register.

HobobobSource URL: http://idontwanttobeanythingotherthanme.blogspot.com/2011/04/call-to-armless-struggle.html
Visit i dont want tobe anything other than me for Daily Updated Hairstyles Collection