Karma, Baby, Karma

So there we were on our lunch break at the Starbucks inside Target. My co-worker Wendy was approaching the empty counter when all of a sudden this tall, skinny Amazonian woman barges to the counter, practically elbowing Wendy in the process to get to the counter first. It was THAT important, you know.

Wendy and I just looked at each other, jaws agape at the blatant rudeness. The woman didn't even bother looking at Wendy to say "excuse me" or acknowledge the fact that she had practically steamrolled over her to place this Life-Or-Death order. She barked her order, grabbed the drink, and in the blink of an eye, spun around to leave as quickly as she'd flown in.

Okeefine.

Now Wendy was at the counter. And as she ordered her usual 2-pump chocolate mocha, she called me over and pointed to something sitting on the counter. There it was.

The Amazonian's car keys.

We looked at each other, then both simultaneously looked over our shoulders. We could still see the Amazonian near the Target entryway. Should we?

Would we?

And without saying a word we came to the same conclusion. Wendy picked up the keys and handed them to the Starbucks clerk. "Someone left these behind," she said.

As we started to leave the parking lot, we saw the Amazonian racing frantically from Bed, Bath & Beyond to Sports Basement to Pet Food Express, desperately scanning the ground as she walked, looking all around her.

"I"m gonna tell her," Wendy said. I started to object as she rolled down the window to call the Amazonian, but the woman gave Wendy but a cursory glance and kept on walking. "Well, then, fine, be that way." Wendy said. "I was gonna try."

"Serves her right," I said.

But that night I thought about it and it bugged me. Wendy had tried to do the right thing and take the high road. Not me. I'd wanted revenge. And then I remembered a scenario that took place not that long ago.

It was just a few weeks after my mother's unexpected passing when I was at the Danville Farmer's Market buying tomatoes. Another shopper didn't realize there was a line and unintentionally cut in front of me.

Like a match to gasoline.

I burst into this heat-fueled liturgy about people without manners and people who aren't civilized and people who don't care about other people, etc. etc. Really, that is so unlike me. And over tomatoes, no less.

The poor woman apologized as she stepped aside, saying she hadn't seen me. And in my heart I knew this was true, but I wasn't really mad about the tomatoes. I was mad about something much deeper and she just happened to get in my way. On the verge of tears, I tossed the tomatoes aside and walked away.

And I realized that the Amazonian could have been on the way to the hospital to visit her terminally ill sister. Perhaps she was reeling from a breast cancer diagnosis, stressing about that recent lay-off notice or distressed over learning that her husband was having an affair.

Or maybe she was just a really rude woman.

Doesn't matter, not my call. Because it's like the John Lennon tune: ""Instant Karma's gonna get you, What on earth are you trying to do? It's up to you, yeah you."

Yeah, me.