Barriers drive me nuts. Always in between me and where I want to be, stopping me in my tracks, or forcing me to retrace my path or find an alternate route.
The PX at the VA is the worst offender. They make really great omelettes there and I try to buy one every chance I get, but the grill is at the back of the store and lately, the idiots who run the place have taken to leaving boxes of unshelved stock in my way. Not all of ’em, mind you, they always leave at least one aisle open, but imagine a 3 foot wide bariatric wheelchair with a five hundred fifty pound guy aboard trying to finess his way past people standing in line to pay for their stuff in an already crowded aisle.
It’s frustrating and It’s humiliating.
When I mentioned it to the manager I got a condescending, “We’ll look into it,” and a pitying look.
So today, I brought my own solution to the problem. Today I will get my omelette without dodging barriers.
I flip the safety off on the Glock and say loudly, “HEY! Y’wanna move those BOXES?”