...When All is Said and Dunn

After having been swallowed by the holiday beast last week, a new monster has raised its ugly head and decided to chew on me this week...that being the computer monster. Without the benefit of my computer, I have been rendered speechless.

I'm sure some of you are thrilled by that prospect. But not for long; I bought I new computer! Please indulge me and enjoy a repeat of a past article. It originally ran on December 11, 1998.

Happy New Year to Everyone! See you next year. Bill

We all have basic needs. One of these is a need for space. I’m not talking about intergalactic space of the final frontier. I’m talking about your personal space — the little imaginary bubble we all surround ourselves with. The one that we only allow those closest to us to invade: our spouses, children or parents. Most of us protect our space as we would a prized possession, and are uncomfortable when its boundaries are breached.

Living in a smaller suburb like Temple City we are more fortunate than most in that we have more space than people who live in downtown Los Angeles or New York City, but look around you . . . your space is either getting smaller or people are not respecting it as much.

Look at the new and improved design of the checkout lanes at Ralphs. Not only are the lanes smaller, but the aisle in front of the lane is smaller as well. This forces a closer contact by design. We are being forced into a locust mentality, like it or not.

Take the aforementioned checkout lines. Not just at Ralphs, but at any grocery, club, drug or department store. For some reason lately people feel the need to stand right on top of you. As though there was no room left in the world, even though you are the only two people in the line. It serves no useful purpose to cram your cart into the back of the person in front of you other than to annoy them and run the risk of verbal or physical abuse, quite possibly both. Look, in order to get to the checker, I have to unload my cart then push it through the lane to get it to the bagger (if you are lucky enough to have one, but that’s a whole other problem), which I can’t do if your cart is pressed against the back of my cart. Personally, the next person who hits my Achilles tendon with a shopping cart will be wearing it as a cage.

While you’re shopping there is usually plenty of space as you go down the aisles. Except when someone with no concept of the bubble principle decides that they must be right where you are at the very same moment. Now, I do understand that sometimes you are in a hurry, and sometimes fate makes worlds collide. All you need to do to defuse the situation is remember the magic phrases that all civilized citizens of our planet use. One is “excuse me.” The other is “pardon me.” These have always worked for me. If you don’t currently use them, try them out. It might keep you from getting body-checked in the frozen food aisle.

But the biggest infringement on my privacy is when I’m attempting to write a check. If you are close enough to see what is written inside my checkbook, right there you should know that you’re too damn close! If I look at you and you are reading it, you have entered the forbidden zone. If you continue to look at my checkbook after I have made eye contact with you to express my displeasure with your actions, you are just plain rude or stupid and deserve whatever happens to you. Too bad there is not some curse or spell I could cast on you when you look at it that would turn you into a pillar of salt or worse.

We all live in the same community, so try to respect the other person’s space in our little universe. Don’t burst their bubble!