Miss Manners and Puking

I was raised in a Southern household obsessed with good manners.  In case you’re a Yankee, or a southerner who missed the social graces, I will elaborate.  I’m not just talking about please and thank you and yes ma’am, but the larger sense of truly being gracious.  Those who know me well know I often fall short in this department, but I do try.  And I would be haunted by my mother, my grandmother, and my great-grandmother if I didn’t.

Southern Belles are trained to always be aware of how others might be feeling at all times.  And, of course, to make them feel better if they’re not feeling just peachy.  Being indifferent or passive when others are in need is not tolerated.

Wednesday I was in Wal-Mart and the lady behind me in line suddenly turned green and made some kind of hand signal to her small daughter.  The daughter scrambled behind the cashier’s stand and grabbed the trash can and drug it over to her mother, who then puked in it.  None of my home training had prepared me for this.  Additionally, I suffer from some strange condition that makes me puke when other people puke.  Suddenly fighting my own stomach battle, I wondered what to do.

God love the Wal-Mart cashier who didn’t miss a beat in her conversation with another shopper in line.  She simply unrolled some paper towels and put them in the hand of the puking woman, who is now on her knees and heading into round two.  The puking woman, no doubt a Southern Belle, raised her head briefly to say thank you to the cashier before resuming her love affair with the trash can.

I’m observing all this and wondering how I can help.  I’m also thinking I need to get the heck out of here, before I get sick.  I worry that the puking woman will be offended if I move away from her.  I’m worried she’ll be offended if I stare.  To make matters worse, there is a hellacious lightning storm going on and the Wal-Mart exit is blocked by droves of sensible people who don’t want to risk their lives to get to their respective cars.

In my panic I begin to intensely study the nearby ice bin.  Still, I can hear the woman retching.  I try to focus on the rain and the lightning.  I shut my eyes and grip my shopping cart so hard that my knuckles turn white.  Thankfully, another well-raised southern woman pulls her cart up next to mine and strikes up a conversation.  Manners dictate that I must listen and I can divert my attention away from the puking marathon.

Days later, I still question my lack of response to puking woman and wonder if I am truly a heathen.  But I just don’t remember Miss Manners ever addressing this subject.  If I suffer further such assaults on my sense of graciousness, I may have to start grocery shopping online.  (And if the puking woman was you and you’re reading this:  Please know I’m sorry you were so sick, and bless your little heart!)

Any Idea what you would do in a similar situation?  I’d love to hear your comments.

Marianne Smith
Writer At The Ranch
Making You Look Brilliant One Word At A Time
http://writerattheranch.com/
wordsmith@writerattheranch.com