Prudence and Madness

Making my usual rounds of bookstores, I was able to hunt down the elusive George Orwell classic, 1984 (elusive for me because I can’t find it in all the bookstores I’ve gone to). Then, at NBS SM North EDSA, I found it nestled in between Animal Farm (by the same author) and Bleak House (by Charles Dickens), being the result of NBS’ aversion to arranging books alphabetically based on the author’s name. It’s a Signet Classic paperback edition, with a deep black pupil inside a bright blue iris as background of the title.

I might post a review once I finished it and if my clinic and duty schedule do not get in the way.

There were no second thoughts plucking that book from the shelf. One reason is that it’s only P275 and I’ve got P200 in my NBS E-purse. Another reason, the more important one, is that I’d like to know how Eric Blair (writing as George Orwell) played with doublethink in the novel.

And, of course, I bought it because it’s a classic.

Clutching my newfound treasure, I went to the cashier (there wasn’t even a line). She punched in the required codes and numbers.

And then, it happened.

She subtracted the e-points from the wrong subtotal. It’s a cascade of effects, really. Her mistake led to calling the supervisor, who has become too comfortable to budge and went on chatting with her lady friend while the cashier, a bit stoic, tried to press some more keys on the computer in an effort to correct her mistakes, which only worsened the situation because, by then, the e-purse slip won’t get printed. The supervisor finally came around and she, too, made some punches on the keyboard, which I do not really know if they are purposeful or just trying to give me the impression that she’s doing something to solve the problem. Then, apparently they decided to try troubleshooting using another computer and went off, without a word to me where they’d be going with my card.

That really got me fuming. But I remained quiet.

Twenty minutes gone and the bagger lady already sat on the swivel chair and started browsing a magazine. I asked her where the cashier went but she just shrugged without looking at me and turned her attention to another page of the magazine. Why was she so busy with it anyway? It’s only Yes! magazine. As if you needed gray matter to read that.

“Can you please tell them to hurry up? I’m a bit short in time here. What’s taking it so long anyway?” I told the bagger lady.

“They’ll be back soon,” was her curt reply.

Ah, almost boiling point. But still I was able to restrain myself. However, I knew then that next time I opened my mouth, I might be spewing some really harsh words, which I’m sure they’re going to regret.

A century later and halfway through my Mig Ayesa playlist, the cashier came back and sat down on the swivel chair that the bagger lady immediately vacated. Still not a word about the delay, she printed the receipt. I paid for it and I was about to go, starting to simmer down at the thought that, at last, the purchase has been done, when the bagger lady noticed that the ballpen I purchased wasn’t punched in the receipt.

“What?!?! Are you telling me that after all this time that you’re gone, the only thing you’re able to do is to punch in the book, without the rest of my purchases? It took you that long? Mig Ayesa has been playing for years in my mp3 player! My 11-year old nephew can do so much better than that! What are you thinking? That I’ve got all day waiting for you to let me have my book, my ballpen, and my sheets of paper? Who are you anyway?”

But, of course, that was only screamed inside my head. After all, as a doctor practicing in the Philippines, I’m no stranger to restraining myself from strangulating people because they’re discourteous idiots.

All I said, then, was: So, do you need the NBS card again?

Lucky for them I can control my inner bitch.

“Yes, ma’am. Please.” Now that’s better.

So, ten years after, I finally got my precious 1984 book, my favorite cheap pen, and some paper. I would have left the store, still fuming mad, if not for the cashier saying, “I’m really sorry for the delay.”

My anger dissipated somewhat but I’m not going to tell this lady that it’s okay because it isn’t. I gave her a thin smile and hurried out of the store, just to emphasize how much bothered I was of their incompetence and discourtesy.

I think if that happened to my bestfriend, the cashier would have been black and blue within minutes. Haha.
I do remember how she snapped at some girl trying to cut in front of her to get faster to the front of the line in the MRT station.

Oh, yeah, I can be like that too. But I think I have a higher boiling point than hers. Haha. Maybe I should join MTV’s Boiling Point and perhaps I could earn a few bucks.