OVER THE COUNTER SCENE

Last Monday I went home with out opening my book, my iPod was off and I didn't take a nap before the boat docked. These are the usual things I relish after my part time work at Lido. The simple pleasures to rejuvenate lucidity before these tree boys start to jump on the "mother ape" they missed that day.

There's this new girl who took the shift of the gay I was talking about here: SMILE . This is my second encounter with her and she should be thankful that reasoning helped me brush off the first one. I politely asked her for two bags after I greeted her 'Buon giorno' (good day). With her sardonic smile, she handed me the bags and I started filling it up with the groceries I bought.

My bill was 38 euros and 73 cents. I gave her 50 and she asked me if I have some coins. I showed her my wallet, opened my coin purse and said in Italian that I'm sorry I don't have them. She got angry, rolled her eyes and said, "Oh Signore!"(Ohh God).

My low blood count suddenly went up and literally flooded my head . My face felt hot and my ears were 'smokin' . I asked her, "Cosa?"(what). Then I told her, "Just for monetti(coins), you are angry? I don't have them and there's nothing I can do with it!" Then she gave me my change and was still murmuring words only she could hear. Then I raised my voice and said, "Look, if I were to pay only 5 euros and I gave you fifty, you have the right to get angry but its 38 euros!". And she answered, "So what now, I gave your change didn't I?". That's exactly why I got out of control. She CAN give me the 'resto'(change) so why does she have to give me that lousy treatment?

I can see all eyes staring at us, I felt they were thinking, "This short girl sure have some guts! Maybe blind too, the cashier is twice her size". Then she told me her job is difficult with out coins and still giving me that hard face.

When I was in the boat, I tried to collect the rightful reasoning to what had just transpired. Part of me felt bad for raising my voice and should have explained to her calmly that first, what she did was simply not acceptable. Second, its her job and third, she will not give me that treatment if I were an Italian. But a part of me which my father often calls it "my i-Bontoc side", said "let's get it on" and I should have gone as far as reporting it to her boss.

Next time I'll shop, I'll take the line of her counter and see how she treats me again. I hope we both teach each other a lesson. Her to be more polite and me to stand up more often for what is right. Who knows, the next NON-Italian on line might get a better treatment out of this.