Urban tales I: the accidental housewife

On Thursday, we had a babysitter mind our munchkin as we went out for some good food in some good company.

This, of course, required some strategizing, as it was the first time, and we had no idea what the young damsel would require in the area of sustenance. What do you feed hungry teens? Since we only knew the young lady by referral, I headed to the supermarket to stock up on some treats.

To understand what comes next, you need to know that our supermarket has a closed car park with a barrier to prevent neighbours from using it.

As I stood at the checkout and watched Goth Girl scan our salty and sweet treats, a young boy walked up to the cashier, asking her to validate a parking ticket for exiting the car park. The kid must have been eleven at the most and looked decidedly nervous. From where I was standing, I could see a queue forming in the parking lot and I watched as he ran back out to their silver car.

Only a few minutes later, as I was paying, his mother sailed in. Think Marcia Gay Harden in Season II of Damages. She was wearing exquisite brown leather shoes and her autumn coloured outfit offset her auburn hair. Her mood was equally stormy. Now, I too have been in the position where the ticket has been validated but the barrier won't open. But this lady was having none of that. Her temper was frayed and it was showing. She proceeded to berate the cashier, who answered back in a surly manner. She looked exactly like dear Carol below, minus the glasses, but with the usual piercings.



Meanwhile, I was stuck in the middle of this, with the munchkin in the supermarket cart all agog, mouth and eyes wide open. Now, ordinarily, I would have intervened and tried to mediate. But with a four-year old in tow, suddenly your whole outlook changes. All you want is for this situation to go away. And to be honest, I had visions of 'Falling Down' (remember Michael Douglas going ballistic as the frustrated angry customer...?).

So I pretended to notice nothing, schlepped all our shopping in the cart on the protesting munchkin, and wheeled past meltdown momma. As I rounded the corner, I noticed that Goth Girl left her register and stomped off towards the management cubicle.

Nothing could have prepared me for what followed in the car park, as I was loading our shopping into the car and getting ready to leave.

The woman, having had her ticket validated for the fourth time apparently, dashed back to her car as people honked impatiently. She then tried to align her car with the terminal to insert the ticket, and given her frazzled nerves, somehow managed to get too close. The tell tale screech of metal on metal was heard. And right there and then, the impending meltdown happened. For as she tried to move her car away, she just kept on scraping it into the terminal. Finally, she reversed the car, got out, and just lost it. She was in floods, screamed something as she looked up at the sky and then walked up to the car behind her. The man in it for a second must have hesitated whether he wanted to roll down his window or not, but to his credit, he did. She then proceeded to ask him for help to move her car, as she was clearly incapable of driving it by that time. The kids inside looked petrified. It was also raining quite heavily, adding to the general discomfiture.

I looked on aghast. The munchkin was silent in the backseat. Then she stated very simply: "That lady is crying".

And I quietly found myself wondering what had happened to this poor woman during the day to generate such a response to such a futility, putting us all momentarily in the eye of the storm.