As I've got older I tend to go with the flow a bit more - although I'm sure Mrs P will suggest differently given her witnessing the other day my aggressive throwing of the weed eater and calling it a nasty word that rhymes with "hit".
It wouldn't start. What can I say?
Anyway. The other day I'm in the supermarket and I rock up to the checkout with my goodies.
Now normally the checkout operators at my fave place are helpful, polite and cheerful.
So I said, "hello" as you do. The operator grunted something indecipherable in response.
I said, "busy day?". She said, "nah".
And that was the extent of our conversation.
From then on she simply tossed my goods into my ready bags with growing contempt. Luckily the bag of frozen peas didn't split as it crashed down on the tin cans that had already been hurled into the bottom.
The glass jar of Mrs P's expensive fancy yoghurt had its fall broken by the same bag of peas - not a good day for the peas at all - and I rescued the carton of eggs before they could be thrown in from the boundary.
Luckily that part of the torture was over but as I paid I thought, quite frankly, "sod it". If she's not going to speak then nor am I.
And so the rest of the transaction was done in complete and utter, stony silence.
Yes, I know I was being a bit childish but I was left thinking I deserved better especially as I refuse to use the self-checkout aisles in support of the workers. Surely it's not hard to observe the common niceties, no matter what day you are having.
Contrast that then with the reaction I got from the old bloke who pulled up next to us at our dog walking spot less than 24 hours later.
It's one of those places with a chain link fence keeping the cars off the grass and this bloke completely misjudged it and ran his front bumper over the chain and up to his wheels.
The noise of the accident was rather spectacular. Even the Boom Boom Boys sitting in the car with the sounds rattling their dental fillings looked over.
Naturally I went to assist.
"You okay mate?," I said, just in case the old boy had bumped his head or something.
"All good thanks bro," he replied cheerily, possibly quite pleased with himself for sounding 50 years younger and using a modern expression.
He got out and we surveyed the damage. And he laughed.
"Oh well, just good nobody was in front there," he said philosophically.
For the next 10 minutes or so we conducted a Mr Bean like operation with me laying on the ground trying to prise the chain free yelling instructions for him to inch backward and then forward till eventually he was clear.
"Thanks a lot," he said, his cheerful nature refusing to bend as he backed out of the parking spot preparing to take off.
Unfortunately, he backed too far and a loud crunch came from the rear of his car. He'd hit a post behind him.
"Not my day is it?," he shrugged, as he drove away with a smile and a wave nonetheless.
The term "don't sweat the small stuff" comes to mind.
In fact, next time my weed eater won't start I might ask for his help.
• Kevin Page is a teller of tall tales with a firm belief too much serious news gives you frown lines. Feel free to share stories to kevin.page@nzme.co.nz .
