I'm not like my mom. Or am I?

MamaKat's posts options this week include: In What Ways Are You Turning into Your Mother?
First off, let me say that my mom and I are very different. In a weird way. My mom is a bit of a fashionista. She is a compulsive shopper, collector of handbags and shoes, regular visitor to the hair salon for cuts and color, did I mention compulsive shopper? And I'm...well, I'm me.

Hate shopping, sneaker wearing, jeans and Tshirts, why would I pay that much for a purse when I could get a backpack for less? I last cut my hair, lemme see, 9 months ago? (I know...I'm long overdue) And makeup? I have tinted moisturizer with sunscreen and chapstick.

We had bizarre battles when I was in high school. Who's mother argues that "You are not leaving this house without putting a little make up on?" Or: "Can't you wear some trendier clothes?" I guess she always had this fantasy of going on trips to the mall with her super trendy daughter and instead she ended up with...well, me.

So how could I possibly turn into my mother? We certainly don't resemble each other on the outside. But maybe we do, a little, on the inside.

See, in addition to gallivanting off on shopping trips, Mom also worked at the courtesy booth at the local grocery store. She did the customer service thing, doing returns and cashing checks and whatnot. There was one thing she did not stand for: line cutters. You know the people? In a long line of traffic, they drive up on the left and cut everyone off? They see a line of people in front of the courtesy booth and just walk past them and start speaking directly to the clerk? Not when that clerk was my mom.

"Hey!" she'd say. "What do you think you're doing? There's 6 people in front of you. There's a LINE. Now get to the back of it!"

Sometimes she's make them cry.

Flash forward 20 years and there's me: working at a nursing home and taking 5 patients out to a coffee shop for the community re-entry program. It's a small shop. Between the counter and the tables and the five walkers all in a row, there's not much room at all. But two women somehow manage to squeeze past the 5 senior citizens standing in line, right up to the counter where they proceed to order. Not when I'm in line!

"Hey!" I said, "What do you think you're doing? There are 5 people in front of you. There's a LINE. Now get to the back of it!"

They made the unfortunate decision of looking at me distastefully and then turning back to the counter to attempt another order.

"EXCUSE ME!" I said, this time squeezing past all 5 walkers myself. "Maybe I didn't make myself clear. You walked in, looked at the 5 people in line, decided you were more important than they were, and then cut in front of them. Well, guess what? You are not more important than they are. Get to the back of the line now!"

I guess they figured they were dealing with a lunatic because they started to squeeze back past the walkers on their way to the back of the line. But I was really aggravated by now. I made them stop and apologize to each and every one of the nursing home patients on the way.

What can I say? I may look like a slob, but my mom taught me well.