Did I stutter?

Me: Smiles, makes eye contact. "Hi, how are you?" 

Cashier: Nothing. Not a word, just a disinterested, grumpy scowl.

Me: Blood rising.

Cashier: Sighs.  No eye contact. "Cheque or savings?" 

Me: Packing away my shopping. "Savings please."

Cashier: Hands me slip and slams pen on counter. 

Me: Signs slip, hands back to cashier. "Thank you."

Cashier: No reply.

Me: Blood boiling. Pick up my groceries, still smiling, look at cashier. "Have a nice f**king day."

This used to happen to me every other day. And yes, that is really what I used to say, those words actually came out of my mouth, loud enough for everyone around me to hear. The only thing I never said that I really wanted to - there never seemed to be enough time - was "I'm sorry, did I stutter?!" I wasn't always this vocal, I just got to a point where I thought, "why the hell not?". Rudeness is my pet hate. I just don't understand its purpose or what it aims to achieve. 

Now I don't know if this has anything to do with it (although I have a sneaking suspicion that it does), but these occurrences used to happen to me in my former province of residence, Johannesburg. Or, Jozi as it is lovingly referred to by its ever-so-tolerent inhabitants. I relocated to the beautiful little town of Hout Bay in the Western Cape almost a year ago. Nestled on the edge of the world (not really, we have a Woolworths and everything), Hout Bay is a haven of kindness, a true reprieve from rudeness. 

In fact, I will share a little story with you. I went to the bank yesterday. Hang on, that wasn't the whole story! I wasn't looking forward to it (one rarely does) and I walked in with tension already nesting in the sinews of my shoulders. I expected, like so many of my fellow 'Vaalies', to receive less than stellar service and a crappy attitude. But blow my flip-flops off if I didn't walk out of there in a better mood than when I'd walked in. Not only were the ladies polite ('please' and 'thank you' were candy, handed out freely) but they  were sweet and helpful, hell, they even cracked a few jokes.

Now I can appreciate that being a cashier (or a bank teller, for that matter) cannot be the most fun or well paying job in the world, but does it really, truly make you feel better to be rude to me? Do you really think you're ever going to earn more than minimum wage with an attitude like that? I think not, personally.

Maybe I'm being unfair, after all, I do live in a coastal town where time tends to standstill if it's a blessedly windless summer day and work productivity is determined on whether there is a surf-able wave. But that's not going to make me feel guilty for appreciating the lovely, friendly cashiers at my local Spar or my favorite two ladies at the bank ( I really love them) and the fact that their good manners put me in a mood that doesn't warrant swearing or tantrums when I get into the safety of my own car.

So well done, ladies, you really live up to 'service with a smile' and I for one, appreciate it from the bottom of my deprived heart.