As I grabbed a banana from the basket at my favorite gas station, I heard a loud and frustrated voice at the coffee bar. Obviously flustered, the lady flapped both of her arms in the air, looked directly at me and said,

“I am getting too old for this crap.”

I gave my most uncomfortable smile and said, “What crap is that?”

She pointed at an empty container and said, “They are out of creamers!”.

I didn’t know what to say. I don’t think I said anything. I was equally as uncomfortable as the time I accidentally farted in freshman French class. If there was a sound, it was more of a bellowing of uncomfortable perplexity. If anything was said, it was likely a quote from Homer Simpson, “Uhhhhhhh….”

I mean, what do you say to that?

I don’t get it. You are getting too old for what? To not have someone cater to you by way of cream?

Don’t get me wrong, I love cream. I think it should available in water fountains and placed next to gas pumps to help pass the time. I believe that any place where there is dispensible liquid, cream should be included, but I don’t necessarily think it is an injustice that this is not the case.

Where in life’s Terms and Conditions statement does it guarantee the right to free creamer or any of the shit we bitch and moan about?

In today’s world, griping and complaining are called activism and contentment is privilege…which is a bad thing. And if you are privileged, you should feel guilty for allowing yourself to be in a good spot.

My grandparents didn’t complain. They were far from privileged but back then they called it being grateful.

Peace, Love, and all things Beef related,