My 'Mister Nice Guy' mask slips... revealing my inner Clint Eastwood

Some of you may remember an incident from last year which proved that I am nobody's 'frayer' (sucker) in the grocery store check-out line.  

I don't know why it should be so, but all of the worst cultural traits and stereotypes people assign to Israelis seem to come to life in the supermarkets here.  So I've gotten to the point where I don't even ask when I find a half-full shopping cart (whose owner is still wandering around the store happily shopping) parked at the cashier.  I just push the cart out of the way and start loading my stuff on the conveyor belt.  

I"ve even gotten my Clint Eastwood squint so dead-on that the miscreants stop mid-sentence when protesting that they were next on line.

And if someone comes up to me in the cheese or deli counter line and says "I'm after you", I don't hesitate to squint down at them and whisper around an imginary cigar, "Well, then you'd better hang around and make sure to tell the person who comes after you, because it would be a shame if you lost your place."

Yes sir, put me in a supermarket with a shiny cart in my hand and you might as well cue the theme music to 'The Good, The Bad & The Ugly', because my spurs start to 'jingle jangle jingle' the moment I walk through those florescent-lit doors. 

Unfortunately, I found out the hard way that not everyone in supermarket is lookin' for a show-down.

This past Friday morning I got up early and went to the shuk (Machane Yehuda) to pick out nice fruits and veggies for shabbat, and even picked up Zahava's favorite Challah (Tellers) while I was there.  But I'm not yet acclimated enough to buy meat in an open-air market.  I guess my inner American still needs to have the meat and poultry safely inside a refrigerated case, far from the flies, before I can comfortably call a chicken or a piece of flanken my own. 

So after I'd finished up at the shuk, I drove over to a Jerusalem supermarket to finish crossing out the items on my Friday shopping list.

At the entrance to the supermarket, the local sheriff (okay, the security guard) checked my gun license and nodded me through the electronic doors.  Once inside I went into 'take no prisoners' mode.  Knowing that the longest line in the store (after the check-out line, of course) is the one at the meat case... I went there first to get that out of the way.

As expected there were about 8-10 people waiting patiently in line with their carts for the two butchers who were busily cutting up and packaging orders.  It should be pointed out here that this is a supermarket that inexplicably does not have the little paper number dispensers, so you really do have to get on line and stay there if you want to be served.

On several previous visits to this supermarket, people have tried the old 'I was here' trick just as I've been about to place my meat order (when in fact they had not been around for the 15 or 20 minutes I had patiently waited for my turn).  Invariably, the person ahead of me, who had just received their chicken or chulent meat, would turn back over their shoulder and say, "Oh yes, he came by when I was on line and said he was after me"... to which I will reply, "So what?  If he wasn't here on line for the last 20 minutes, that's not my problem" followed by my placing my order with the butcher.

Seriously, I have no patience with people who think their time is more valuable than mine.

Well, this past Friday as I stood on the line for the butcher, I noticed that the cart ahead of me seemed not to have an owner.  So when the people ahead of me moved forward, I began to go around the 'abandoned' cart.  But before I could do so, a pretty young woman in a fashionable hat and a long skirt showed up carrying some yogurts and a couple of cartons of milk.  Smiling nicely, she plopped the items into the 'abandoned' cart... moved it up the line and set off to do more shopping.

I watched this happen a few times, but usually she was not back in time and I was forced to push her cart along the line for her.  As she set off on yet another foray to gather still more items from the far reaches of the store, I started to feel Clint Eastwood bubbling to the surface... and before I could stop myself I calmly addressed her back (in Hebrew);

"Ma'am.  I see you have a long list of things to buy today". [now I had her attention as she turned around]  "I have news for you....we all have long shopping lists.  What do you suppose would happen if we all went to do our shopping instead of waiting on line here at the meat counter?  Who would move the carts along?  You have to understand that the only way you are able to do your shopping right now is if the rest of us agree to move your cart along for you.  Do you think that's fair?  Don't you think we'd also like to be cutting down the time we have to spend here in the store?  But we can't... because somebody has to stay here on line to move the carts along!"

I was very polite but firm when I addressed her.  She was also quite attractive, which - let's face it - never hurts a woman's position in these situations.  But after looking at me in surprise, she began with the old 'but everyone does this, I'm not doing anything wrong' line.

I held up my hand and politely repeated, "Yes, but this only works for one or two people.  If everyone goes off to do their shopping, the system doesn't work.  So I ask you again... do you think it's fair that you get to go do your shopping while the rest of us have to stay here and push your cart along?"

She couldn't really say much  since nobody else had sprung to her defense (thank G-d for small favors), but she clearly wasn't pleased.  From that point on she stayed with her cart as we shuffled closer and closer to our shabbat chickens and flanken.

But at some point she must have glanced over at the shopping list in my hand, written in English in Zahava's neat, purple script, because she suddenly turned to me and said, "You speak English!", as if had unfairly hidden this from her.

It quickly became clear that, while her Hebrew was excellent, the reason she hadn't argued with me beyond the initial objection was that; a) she simply wasn't up to making a scene in Hebrew; and b) she was a polite former American like me.

She quickly set about explaining again - in English this time - that it was really common practice to leave the cart on the butcher line and go pick out items from nearby shelves.  I agreed, that if it was something really nearby that caught her eye, there was no harm in walking away from her cart for a few seconds to go get it.  But I pointed out that I had watched her walk to the other side of the store and disappear for almost 5 minutes the last time. 

I didn't feel like reiterating my 'it's simply not fair' speech, so I just smiled and said, "Look, you seem like a very nice person.  I know you aren't trying to do anything mean or devious here.  You are just going to have to understand that until this store wakes up and puts a number dispenser at the meat counter, there will be people who are going to feel put-upon when you walk away and tacitly imply that they need to push your cart along for you."

She seemed to accept this with good humor and smiled to show there were no hard feelings.  She then introduced her self and mentioned that she was from Efrat [gulp]. She then asked where I was from.  I grudgingly admitted I was also from Efrat... silently praying that she didn't know me (or more importantly, my wife)... and introduced myself.

Her eyes lit up and she said, "I know you... you write that blog, treppenwitz, right?"

Busted!  This was bad.  Worse than bad.  It was like nailing a passing car with a snowball, only to have the car stop and your mom's best friend get out and recognize you!

I could feel my cheeks burning, but I smiled and said, "Yeah, that's me".  It turns out that we knew lots of people in common, and she was all too familiar with this website.  [~silent facepalm~]

We chatted affably for the rest of our shared time in line, and afterwards ran into each other no less than a dozen times in various aisles of the store... each time smiling and exchanging pleasantries.  We even helped each other find items to complete our lists.

But when I was finishing up in the check-out line and saw her walk up to the neighboring cashier, I felt another wave of embarrassment at having taken someone to task that not only lived in my town... but who knew me personally.

Lesson learned:  Israel is such a small country that I'm going to have to figure out a way to modify my Clint Eastwood 'quick-draw' act to the point where I won't be routinely taken advantage of... but at the same time, if/when it turns out I've taken a shot at someone I know... I'll be able to look them in the eye the next day.

So pretty lady from Efrat... please accept my apologies for my behavior.  I'm a work in progress - a construction site, of sorts - so thank you for excusing the mess.