For most of my life, I’m fairly confident that, if asked, anyone would say “Yeah. Bea’s a really nice, lady. She doesn’t have a mean bone in her body.” Yes..for most of my life. That is until I hit (gulp) 52 and some CRAZY madwoman began randomly and without notice taking over my mind, my body and my MOUTH! WHO IS THIS WOMAN??!!
I cry unexpectedly and at completely inappropriate times – like when the credit union teller says she’ll have to get someone from the credit card department to help me with my question on a charge that I don’t recognize. Well, first I got “snippy” and THEN I cried. What the heck? I’ve been going to the same credit union for 23 year!. All lovely people. Friendly. Great service. And they all know me by name. I was, quite simply, unrecognizable. Kindly, she said, “Bea. I’m trying to help you. Please don’t cry. What’s wrong?” “I DON’T KNOW! I just want this fixed NOW I half scream/half sob.”
Oh yeah – and who will forget the great Pier 1 Red Rug caper? Not me! Not the clerks at Pier 1 & certainly not my girlfriends who still laughingly remind me that “possession is nine-tenths of the law!” Here’s the saga. I found the PERFECT red rug in a Pier One catalogue. HAD TO have it. Headed to one of 7 Pier One’s in the Las Vegas area. I was informed that that particular store did not have the coveted red rug, but it seemed that one in the middle of town had “just one left.” “Great!” I said. I have my truck. Call them and tell them I’ll be right over!
I was informed that the store in question only had one clerk on duty and she was pregnant and the rug was too heavy for her to lift. They agreed to put it on hold for me and I could pick it up later. Now I KNOW that a “hold” is generally 24 to 48 hours. No one mentioned this – but common sense would prevail that a retailer cannot “hold” merchandise indefinitely.
A week and a half later, I enter the store in question…and there it was. From the entry door I saw MY beautiful red rug across the store. I promptly asked the clerk “Is that rug still on sale?” She answered in the affirmative and I said “GREAT! I’ll take it” and handed my credit card across the counter.
The clerk notified me that the rug was “on hold” to which I answered, “Yes I know! It’s on hold for ME!!!!” She asked my name and said, “I’m sorry. That is not the name we have for the hold. But if you come back tomorrow and it’s still here..you can buy it then.”
Uh OH!! Here comes that UGLY, nasty HORMONE MONSTER that lurks inside of sweet little ole’ me. She goes from sweet to HOSTILE in one second flat! Thus the now infamous line, “Possession is nine-tenths of the LAW!” Yes. I REALLY did use that ridiculous line which I knew in some rationale remnant of my brain made ABSOLUTELY NO SENSE! After all I didn’t actually “possess” the rug. Pier One did and some other lady was trying to take away MY rug! I waived my credit card with attitude and uttered those ridiculous words WITH AUTHORITY!!!
The poor clerk started anxiously pressing keys on the computer- obviously alerted to the heightened tension in the air. I was NOT MOVING nor was I LEAVING the store without MY RUG!! I went on to explain that I had put the rug on hold and was told that a pregnant woman was the only one in the store when I placed the rug on hold (10 days ago) and…at that exact moment, the poor, tiny pregnant girl unwittingly walked by. AHA I exclaimed. “THERE SHE IS!” as if her presence was conclusive proof of my “Possession/Law” argument.
Suddenly everyone is scurrying and problem solving in an obvious attempt to get the immovable crazy later AWAY FROM THE COUNTER and OUT OF THEIR STORE! Again, it was suggested that I return tomorrow and, if the other woman didn’t pick up the rug I could purchase it. To which I calmly and with absolutely NO INFLECTION replied, “That is not fine.” Flat. No affect. Simply, “that is not fine.” (Who IS this chick anyway?!)
“Tell ya what” I said. “Why don’t you call Miss I have a hold on YOUR rug and see if she’s going to purchase it tomorrow?” Nervous pregnant girl complied and fearfully turned from the phone to report that, indeed, Miss Rug Stealer was picking up MY RUG tomorrow.
ARGHHHH!! Irrational FURY bubbled up in my too-calm/quiet storm countenance and the stranger within replied, “That just makes me furious.” Stranger didn’t yell. Didn’t scream. Just flatly and incongruously expressed her extreme displeasure.
Now all the clerks were scurrying and, low and behold, they FOUND MY RUG in Riverside California. “Good”replied the stranger within. Pregnant clerk went to the back to call the manager and request FREE SHIPPING directly to my home! (Obviously they didn’t want me to ever darken their door again. Much safer to pay for home delivery and get crazy woman OUT OF HERE PRONTO!)
As little pregnant clerk was in the back office, an older woman was left sitting behind the counter, quietly awaiting a conclusion to this melodrama. I calmly said, “I’m a menopausal witch.” Again – flat. No apology. No “Man I can’t even stand being in my own skin!” simply “I’m a menopausal witch.” Her reply, “Honey. We’ve all been there.” No judgement. Just a simple acknowledgement from a sister who’d been there/done that.
With that, the GOOD NEWS was reported. The manager had agreed to ship the rug directly from Riverside California to Boulder City Nevada at no cost to me. The sales price would be honored. I promptly paid and left with my receipt, satisfied in the knowledge that “POSSESSION TRULY IS NINE-TENTHS OF THE LAW!” At least at the hands of a menopausal witch who brings terror in her wake.
Thankfully, I don’t see that woman as often now that I’m on my dearly loved “Happy Ass Patch.” Excuse my French. But that’s what it is. Hormones delivered gently over time through my weekly patch. Now, when Crazy Woman begins to rear her ugly head, my husband and friends oh so gently…calmly….inquire. “Honey? Bea? Is everything OK with your patch?”