not going gentle into that good night

Sometimes you hear a story and you wish you had been there -- if only because it could not have possibly been as bad as the teller made it sound.

And sometimes, you wish you were not a witness to the same story. Or, in this case, two stories.

I have needed to make a trip to Manzanillo for almost a month for a reason that would silence the most adamant stay-at-home-mom. I had dropped off some cl-zz mmm drzzz, and needed to pick them up. (These Zoom connections are not very reliable.) Let's just say, I needed to go.

Two places I had not originally intended to stop were Telmex and Telcel. I thought I had come up with a fail-proof idea to pay both bills on-line. And it may have been a good plan. But, for the past two days, I have not been able to connect with either server. Worse, I had just purchased a new printer that would not print out my bills to pay in person at Oxxo -- even if I could have loaded them.

Since I was already heading to Manzanillo, I added them to my stop list.

Because it is at the furtherst point of my trip, I stopped at Telmex first. I almost did not stop because there were two lines outside the building nearly as long as the line at Banamex in Melaque these days. But I did. After all, I had plenty of time.

And it was good that I did have the time -- because I spent it. I had been in line for about 15 minutes when I took the photograph at the top of this essay. There were a total of 23 people standing in the line I was in to make payments. The other line was for customers with service issues.

There were only two people in line in front of me when an irate fellow made a beeline for the door. The young man admitting us showed him the correct line, but Mr. I. M. Important pushed right past him. He obviously belonged in the service line because he was sporting a sour look and what looked like a non-functioning modem.

I do not often see Mexicans react negatively to life's problems, but this guy's act of hubris caused more than a few mutters. We all expected him to be immediately ejected, but he wasn't. The young Mexican standing in front of me lamented it was one of the weaknesses of Mexico -- the wealthy always get their way.

When I was admitted into the building to stand in line to pay my bill, the intruder had been stopped by an older Telmex representative. Though he ranted and raved, the representative kept repeating that he needed to go get in line.

The Mexicans in line around me tagged him as a northerner. It was not until he left that I recognized him as a citizen of one of the countries north of Mexico. Which one does not matter.

Whenever I write about one of my stand-in-line experiences, there are at least two readers who will say I could have avoided it all with some solution each had earlier proposed. But, if I had done that, that ill-mannered northerner would have been the sole representative of foreigners in Mexico. It did open my eyes to behavior I usually only hear about.

After that 45-minute adventure, I drove to Telcel. The line there was just as long as the Telmex line. I drove on by. I will see if I can connect to the Telcel site on my telephone.

But I made one more stop -- to pick up some fried chicken. There was only one other customer in the place. He obviously had been served his order, and he was not happy. I must have entered in mid-rant.

"I told you I wanted three breasts. You know. Chicken boobs."

The cashier did not know. He did not speak English.

I try to avoid imposing myself into these situations, but I could not help myself. I asked what the problem was. It was rather simple, he had ordered a three-piece dinner and thought did not get what he wanted.

I counted the pieces on his plate. A thigh. A drumstick. A wing. Three pieces.

He looked at me as if I were an idiot. "I wanted three breasts. These are not three breasts. And, by the way, tell him he has mispelled 'pieces;' It's not "piezas."

Of course, he had not paid for three breasts. That meal would have been three times more expensive than his order, and he was only going to pay for the three-piece dinner.

And, out of the blue, he blew. "Someone needs to tell these people how to run a business. They should eat at a Tim Hortons and learn a lesson or two."

Then, he was gone. Probably to have an Angry Old Men lunch with the modem pusher.

These are not the only two similar incidents I have witnessed here -- or elsewhere in the world. I suppose there are a myriad of reasons why these outbursts occur.

I often suspect it is the fear of aging -- or death. Some might label it White Privilege. Or it may simply be people who have not encountered many obstacles in their lives and lash out because they have no idea how to persuade people -- or how to comply with simple rules that others are obeying.

Whatever it is, I am not entirely immune from it. Every time I get frustrated with someone double parking or pulling out of a side street without looking or burning brush, I am acting out the same nonsense that I witnessed today.

And it does not have to be that way. If I need to conduct business and there is a line, I get in the line and wait like everyone else. If my food order is not what I expected and I receive an explanation of my error, I smile and say "gracias." And if the 1973 Datsun pickup driving on the highway at 10 MPH slows me down, I decrease my speed and wait for a safe opportunity to pass and be on my way.

It would not be bad to be known as that pleasant old man who lives down the lane.