Yell and get your way

Standing in line at Starbucks this morning I was, once again, faced with something I know is true but refuse to accept. Well, I suppose I accept it but it doesn't affect change in me.

I'm a patient waiter. To say it simply, I wait patiently. I've never been one to get "better service" with a louder voice or via complaining. This is a tried and true tactic, but for some reason I cannot actualize on it. I'm hardly shy, but something about those harried employees and the Christmas season--I couldn't yell at them. I suppose my subversive eye-rolling couldn't have helped but it still appeared kind compared with the woman hurtling explitives in front of her kid or the middle-aged, foreign banker struggling against his thick accent to hail thinly veiled threats at the barista. Suffice to say I waited 28 minutes for my frappuccino fix which I am currently fixating ON.

For someone who really likes getting her way and does more often than not, I can't seem to rev up the energy to yell at someone. Even if that someone "owes" me--be it better service or past due payments on outstanding personal loans. I guess, I'm not a yeller. Strange, I always thought it would kick in.

My mom's a yeller. I assumed everyone's mom yelled (for better service, etc.) but it dawned on me that it wasn't true when I met a college friend's mom--she was meek and soft-spoken. It kinda blew me away. How did this woman raise three kids? Well, she was no single parent, I can assure you. Maybe it's just the single parent mom's that yell to get their way, because they're tired, frustrated, and overwhelmed. Hey, it works for them. At least it alleviates enough stress that it puts them in a better mood for their kids.

I remember being stranded by Delta at the ATL airport this summer. Hungry, exhausted, and miserable, I finally called my mom. She promptly played the doctor card, contacted the authorities (she was in NJ, mind you) and had a food voucher and a plane ticket for the next flight to LGA in my hand within the half hour. I had been battling the lines, calling the Customer Serivce number and waiting patiently for 7 hours before I broke down and called her. She made the magic happen in 30 minutes. Sigh. I should have made a scene. I could have made a scene. But I didn't. I don't. I won't. Something about being the scene creator really makes my stomach turn. Now, for someone who is an attention whore and loves being the "life of the party" and "in the scene" it's a strange dichotomy. I should be a yeller, but I'm not.

I must accept my fate and reveal that I am as incompetent as Ditha on a crosswalk at rush hour when it comes to yelling to get my way.
You'd think I'd choose the "kill them with kindness" alternative to yelling. Sadly, I'm not terribly kind either--what's a girl to do to get her way these days? Sitting pretty has apparently lost the favor it curried back in the day.

I'm always missing my heyday being born in 1980 as opposed to 1950 makes it really difficult to continue pulling for my outlook, physique, and generally checked craziness.