A Good Man Is Hard to Find

I am beginning to feel like the grandmother in Flannery O'Connor's short story. Just a recap if you don't remember your Southern Lit:

An old-school Southern grandmother goes on a road trip with her son or daughter (can't remember which), his or spouse, and their children. Throughout the story she explains her definition of a "good man," which consists of someone who is polite and mannerly. At the end of the story, they get in a wreck and are completely taken advantage of by what she considers a "good man." Although he says "Yes, ma'am" he stills shoots them all in the end.

So maybe having manners doesn't mean one is a "good person," but, by golly, it sure could fool me just like it fooled the grandmother. If a car cuts me off on the interstate but gives an apologetic wave as if they've just realized their mistake, all is forgiven. If no wave is offered, then the driver deserves to be smacked. Being raised in the South has made me this way and makes me feel totally justified when I berate someone for being rude.

So where is all this nonsense going? Basically, I need to take some time to vent about someone who didn't follow my rules for being a "good man" today. And in case you are wondering about "my rules," here they are:

1. Be polite at all times – especially when dealing with cashiers, waitresses, receptionists, etc. – and they should definitely be polite to customers in return.
   
2. Always place shopping carts in the racks in the parking lot. No exceptions.
   
3. Do not ever break line.
   
4. Hold doors and elevators open at least for the approaching person to catch. This isn't a rule for just the guys – we can all keep it open and not let it slam in someone's face.
   
5. Do not take up the entire aisle while walking slowly in grocery stores, Target, or a hallway. Understand that some people are in a hurry.
   
6. Do not talk loudly about personal business in public. It makes others uncomfortable.
   

Now on to my drama for the day. I was working in Dyersburg, Tennessee, and decided to make a quick pharmacy call during lunch. Basically this consists of checking with a pharmacist to make sure he is stocking my drug, asking if he's had many insurance problems, and sometimes getting an update on the price for customers without insurance coverage. Normally pharmacists don't mind speaking with drug reps and I have never had anyone act annoyed with me -- that is until today.

I stopped at Wal-Mart since I also needed to buy dog food, and this was my number one mistake. I don't mean to be so judgmental of this store, but I rarely have a good experience and am grateful Target is much closer to my home. I parked a million miles away, walked straight to the pharmacy, and asked the pharmacist my normal questions. I asked if customers ever have insurance issues with my drug, and he said rarely ever – normally their insurance covers it well. I then asked how much it is without insurance coverage since I was trying to update a price list. My innocent question turned Mr. Pharmacist into Mr. Hyde.

"Well, I'll tell you how much it costs." Suddenly his voice grew louder and his tone became quite sarcastic. "It costs a ridiculous amount."

I'm sorry . . . what did he mean by this? Since "a ridiculous amount" is relative, I asked if he minded looking up the exact price for me. He walked to his computer shaking his head the whole time and mumbling about expensive drug costs under his breath. He came back, told me the price (which was actually more expensive than some other pharmacies), and then told me I need to cut the price in half. Every sentence he spoke grew louder and he became more animated and irritated. As you can tell, he has already broken two of my rules.

I reminded him that the majority of customers will not pay the full price, and I don't expect them to. While my company has worked very hard to get the lowest insurance co-pays possible, we are also very generous with samples, and the doctor's office should have samples for a patient who doesn't have insurance coverage.

He then gave me a smirk and said something rude like, "Well, you must be proud of yourself."

I tried to ignore this comment and explained that I know many people are on fixed incomes, and my company is trying to help in every way. I decided at that point that I had no reason to explain the worth of myself or my company to this guy, and I needed to thank him for giving me the price and walk away. Before I could even finish this thought, he leaned in like he wanted to share a secret and loudly said, "Help? Is that what you think you and your big drug company are doing? Do you really think your company wants to help anybody?"

This guy was a complete a-hole. I had just walked a million miles from the parking lot in heels that hurt my feet, I hadn't had a chance to eat lunch yet, and I am pregnant and oversensitive, yet he felt the need to harass me over something I have no control over. Someone peed all over his Cheerios that morning. He didn't know me. He didn't know anything about me, but he chose to blame me for the fact that Wal-Mart had marked up the price of my drug. There were a million fabulous zingers coming to mind in that split second, but why should I let him know that he had offended me? I have chosen to work and send my child to daycare, and I would never have done that if I didn't believe in my company and my product. Did he really want me to believe he was so much better than me? Does he give discounts to his customers? Of course not. This self-righteous jerk does work at Wal-Mart, by the way, and we've all seen those 20/20 specials. What was he trying to prove by embarrassing ME?

So I snapped back into reality, looked him square in the eye, leaned in and said, "Yes. Yes, I do feel like I'm helping. I appreciate your information."

I turned on my heel and walked away straight to the dog food. My sudden surge of adrenaline helped me easily toss that 20 lb bag over my shoulder, and I marched to the self check-out aisle. I wasn't about to deal with another soul in that store. There were four self check-out registers and everyone was making a line in the middle and then going to the check-outs as they opened. I was next in line and just as the bag began feeling really heavy, a little skinny girl completely cut in front of me and waltzed up to a register that was about to open. Since I had just bitten my tongue in half from the incident with the pharmacist, I wasn't able to do it again.

"Really?! REALLY?!!" I yelled at her. She looked back briefly but seemed to have no idea this was directed at her. I immediately walked up to her register and flopped my heavy bag of dog food down on top of her cosmetics and then proceeded to glare at her. Within seconds she began to realize what she had done but probably knew an apology was too late at this point. She quickly tried to scan her items but kept fumbling when the machine wouldn't accept her cash. In my insanity, I put her on an equal level with the pharmacist and decided she was getting what she deserved. More than likely, she didn't realize that we had been forming one line that would go to all check-outs, and I decided I needed to back off. I took the big green bag of Iams to the adjacent check-out and slowly walked out of the store grateful that they had installed automatic doors since I was almost certain someone would have let a regular door slam in my face today. I trudged back to the car while pushing a stray cart or two out of the way and into the cart caddy where they belonged.

I know a good man really isn't hard to find, and this is the first and probably the only time this will happen to me. The poor guy seemed bitter, and while it wasn't fair to me I happened to be the one who got him stirred up. For all I know, his wife left him this morning or he found out his daughter was doing drugs. Does that still give him a reason to be an a-hole? Of course not. Was it reason enough for me to be an a-hole to the skinny chick that cut line in front of me? Absolutely.