Self-Checkout

I can only share this because my mom was the saintliest of 1980s mothers. She was almost impossible to provoke, seldom said an unkind word, never cussed, and was generally as relaxed as her culottes. (Truth: she only cussed once and it was during a heated game of Monopoly at a family reunion gone awry. I think the only reason we kids remember is because it was so out of character. Love you, Mom! You’re still a saint in my book! Now pass GO and collect $200!)

I said almost impossible. Occasionally, my siblings and I would push our mother to her breaking point and subsequently unleash her strong voice. As luck would have it, the phone always managed to ring right in the middle of her soliloquy and she would stop yelling, pick up the almond beige receiver attached to the 6-foot-but-the-darn-kids-stretched-it-12-feet-just-to-talk-alone-in-the-pantry curly cord, and say in her most loving, fairy godmother voice, “Helloooooo?” It just killed me. I wanted to shout from afar, “Don’t be fooled! My mom isn’t even nice! In fact, she was just screaming at us!”

I vowed I would never do the hypocritical phone answer. (I also remember telling my pregnant self I would never bribe my future child with candy. Please mark a second tally under "LOSSES".)

Earlier this week I did two things:

1. Typed all my notes from a Stake Leadership Training I attended last September with Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles
2. Bought my fourth computer in five weeks. Crooked base, faulty wi-fi card, don’t even ask. But if you saw Mad Madam Mim opening a computer in Costco’s food court and putting a pocket level on the monitor you saw correctly. Which means I’ve installed, uninstalled, returned, repurchased, and reinstalled more than I’d care to. Thursday morning I lost my marbles, won the Oscar for Best Nonsensical Rant to Innocent Onlookers, snatched my purse and phone, and shrieked to my wide-eyed family members, “I will be back in one hour! I am going to Best Buy to buy YET another computer!”

*door slam*

Steering through the roundabout like Cruella de Vil I remembered I had a quart of abhorrent Seventh Generation counter spray I needed to return at Walmart, however, I’d been postponing said return because I had no receipt, no original credit card, and not enough dignity to ask for my $2.77 back. Lucky day, I was just riled up enough to stand firm in the face of violated store policy. I steamed into Walmart with that spray (that does not smell like citrus or lemongrass but rather oregano, tar, and possibly anthrax) and the second I saw the sweet girl in a wheelchair welcoming me to the store I heard myself say, “Paris? What a lovely name. You’re as pretty as the city. You have a wonderful day now!”

As I walked toward Customer Service I recalled something I typed in the Elder Holland notes. A direct quote from Elder Holland, actually:

We are under covenant to treat our families better than we treat people at the grocery store.

And then I realized I inherited my mother’s special skill set but with greeting strangers instead of answering the phone.

I drove home $2.77 richer with my tail between my legs, corralled Greg and RE into the same room, told them all of this, and asked for their forgiveness.

Since then the fourth computer has performed splendidly and so have I.

Our families deserve our best.

Photo quote by Corrie ten Boom. Jenn FNDN, yes, the Harbor Freight mini shopping cart I bought because of you still lives on. Best kid toy ever!