We all know that the man look is. I have to say that I have a rather extreme case of this affliction.
It comes early in the morning most of the time.
I wake up and have my shower. I get out of the shower and reach down to get my hair gel from the cabinet. It’s not there.
It’s not there!
I scan the scene before me, searching through the sea of items back and forth, back and forth but alas it is not there. I make up my mind at once, Amanda has obviously moved it. She’s been cleaning up and with complete disregard or value for my belongings and for some god-only-knows reason; she’s put it somewhere else.
Why does she touch my things? Why does she move my things? They are left where they are for a reason; so that I can find them next time I need them.
I search my walk in robe; maybe she’s put it there. Nope.
I search my briefcase. Nope.
I search my bedside table. No!!
I turn around and stare at her, a shadow of outrage in the dark. Should I wake her? She’ll probably be pissed. But she moved my stuff, what right does she have to be upset? That’s it I’m going to wake her…Hmmmmm, OK maybe I’ll check the cabinet one more time.
I go back to the cabinet and have a look inside. It’s still…not…there!
Then just as I am about to turn away, my hand involuntarily reaches out. It’s almost like my hand isn’t connected to my body. It reaches and grasps my deodorant, moving it to one side and there!! There lies my hair gel.
Why on Earth would she put my hair gel there? Oh well I’ve found it now, no need to berate her this time – she was probably just trying to be helpful. I’ll have a quiet word in her ear later just to make sure it doesn’t happen again. I’m busy in the mornings.
So if you think that the man look can rear its ugly head at home, in the morning, under next to no pressure at all, then let’s put it into practice somewhere else like say, a supermarket while in possession of two young children and an ultra-complicated shopping list.
I’m given a list.
- Butter milk.
- Non-salted butter.
- Cream cheese.
- Fly spray.
- Earth washing detergent.
Then to further complicate matters I receive a text message – ‘Also can you please get me some Pine Nuts?’
I enter the supermarket full of confidence and false bravado.
10 minutes later and after searching every aisle I’m still stuck on Sultanas. Siena is in a good mood and behaving herself. Nikita has asked for every single item under the roof but do you think she could help by asking for the sultanas? Nooooooo.
I’m quickly losing my composure. Items and words start blending into each other and frustration begins the slow steady boil towards anger.
I start looking around for an attendant and curse the lack of service in not receiving help immediately.
Siena starts to whinge and I know I am now on limited time.
Finally I find a middle aged woman in uniform, ‘EXCUSE ME?!’
She turns and her face is unamused, one eyebrow raised. I regain control and through gritted teeth and shallow breath, soothe my voice down to a kind enquiry.
‘Could you please tell me where the pine nuts and sultanas are?’
She turns ninety degrees and points to the aisle right next to us. ‘They are both over there.’
Three metres away are the sultanas. I turn back to her, ‘thank you so much.’
I run over and grab the sultanas then search around for the pine nuts, they are nowhere in sight.
I turn back and chase down the lady.
‘I’m so sorry but I can’t find the pine nuts.’
She walks over to where I picked the sultanas up from and literally in the very next space along, approximately 3cm away, lay the pine nuts.
She places the nuts in my hand, sends over a condescending smile and walks off.
‘We are terrible aren’t we?’ I offer.
‘Oh, haha, no. It’s OK.’
After the sultanas and pine nuts I go for the easier options, tracking down the fly spray and detergent without much of a hassle. Then I look for the next task.
Butter milk and un-salted butter.
Are you serious? Butter milk? What the hell is that any way? Am I to look in the milk section or the butter section? Or perhaps it’s in the baking section? Or next to the sultanas again?
Un-salted butter? I mean who really cares if it’s salted or not? Come on, butter is not that salty, there is no need for an unsalted option that is going to be like looking for a needle in a hay stack!
I decide (like any person with basic common sense would do) to delegate the task to someone more suited to the role. I’m reluctant to hassle the lady again but I see an older guy up the aisle in uniform.
He starts to walk away so I call out ‘excuse me, excuse me!’
He turns around as I get to him and, pointing to the list I say ‘sorry sir, might you tell me where I can find these two items?’
He walks up to the milk fridge and grabs the butter milk. He walks up to the butter aisle and grabs the unsalted butter.
I thank the genius profusely.
Then as I am walking up to the checkout with two still well behaved kids I notice another man going up to the lady that had helped me earlier.
She turns her patronising look his way as he asks the question.
‘Would you please tell me where I can find some pine nuts?’
Any of you ladies out there have to deal with the man look on a regular basis?