One Month in

I'm supposed to be home
Since there's no going back
all roads to the past have been closed
I'm not the person I once was
And so I have to start anew
I always knew this would be hard
and unfortunately that's why I didn't go through with it
at age 25, say.
I always thought I woudn't last
But  I didn't try
I thought I couldn't
and you know?
Even if I'm not feeling fantastic about it
Even if it's all still new
I'm still doing it.
I'm surviving
It hasn't all been "Fine Thanks Wonderful Thanks for asking!"
But I'm doing it
I'm living the truth
You cannot wait for someone to set you free
You have to dig yourself out, then reach up
and grab your own hope

You might be wrong about yourself

The Thursday before I moved, I was convinced that I let my brother's kitten out because I could not find him anywhere, and I had left the door open to look through my mail as it was a nice day. I did not see him leave, but my dad was pretty convincing. We looked outside, both yards, calling him. I decided to look upstairs in my brother's bedroom, remembering his fondness for the closet. Listening closely, I heard a faint yet frantic "mew." I opened up a drawer and that little orange tabby jumped out of there with such gratitude and relief, purring to me that I had this feeling that, as much as I'd feared (Everything is going so well/then I lose my brother's cat/ and It will ruin our relationship) that affairs would take a turn for the worse, I was at peace. I never let him out; I never thought I did. I didn't even close him in that drawer. So I didn't ruin anything, lose him, and nothing bad happened and no one was upset with me.
      After the experience, I realized how wrong I was to blame myself and how easy it was to just fall into the belief that the kitten would be .....lost in the wild shall we say. My father and older brother were convinced he was gone for good, so since I left the door open, I figured he was too. But I didn't see him leave. Because he didn't.
       So, I am still learning this lesson in trying not to diagnose myself anti-social after being here less than a month. Sure, I don't know what kinds of things I like to do yet because I haven't jumped right in. Because I don't do that. I kind of fold into myself and hide out at first. I have done that in every situation that I have ever been in. As much as I want to dive right in at first I use swimmies or just dip a toe in. And just because I don't do things now on week 3 doesn't mean I won't. Because a certain Eli the Tabby taught me that I could be wrong about myself. I gotta open the drawer of this new life......
And find myself.

Instant: new life: Just add water(works)

      In the midst of transitioning workplaces, towns, and homes, it's different than I thought it would be. It turns out no matter how ready a person is to leave home, or transfer to a new store, no matter how one would think it would be an adventure, an exciting experience, moving has been a sad one for me,  not equaling instant happiness. I'm not surprised, but it was disappointing not to feel as if I love every minute of living here right away. Yes, I wanted this to happen and it had to, but even if I was not meant to live with my parents anymore because I was too old to live with them, I still wanted it to work out.  I aim to be outgoing and positive but it's difficult to adjust to new routines, new personalities, and new surroundings all at once, holding it together and then it just comes apart
        It doesn't make sense to anyone outside but does anyone ever see the work leading up the goal unless one is there with the person, really paying attention? Because on the inside, when I let go, and I want to go home, it makes sense to me. But to others it might seem like "What? What is she so upset about?" In reality, it takes all I can muster to work in a new place, with no familiar faces, new personalities that have established rapport and I am confident in my job but that's about it.  The time moves differently there, slow, steady, exhausting.  I go home to my apartment, into my room, and collapse on the bed with a sigh of relief. And I lay there kind of missing my family with my Dad's loud TV and my brother holding his cat like a newborn and my Mom typedy typing away at the desktop and asking me questions. I miss my dog thumping her tail on the wooden floor because I'm home, but being to lazy to actually come see me, unless of course I'm eating and then she's my best friend.  In the midst of all this emotion I might get a question about something that happened the other day when I really want to just be left alone because I miss my family and these questions reiterate the fact that I actually am living with people who have no idea who I am, and I have no idea who they are.
It's hard....but it's new. The good thing about that is, New things are hard, but hard things are not new for me.

Day two

1. SuperTy RIP Ty! I followed Ty's story for a few years after reading about him on AOL here Parentdish AOL- One mom's heartbreak This is so unfair that as I am creating my own life, his life on Earth ends. I have an issue also with articles that say someone "loses battle" with cancer. Ty fought. Ty clung to life for two years. He endured side effects, treatment for the side effects, pain, medication, and stroke. He loved his parents and his brother so much through all the pain and to say he lost a battle is just unfair. It wasn't just a battle, it was like he was battling his own personal apocalypse. My heart goes out to his family.
2. I realized moving was my only choice. As much as I was ready to start a new adventure, the hardest part was leaving my store and all the fine young people I work with. Working with college students means eventually they graduate, and move on. Eventually, I had to do that too, or my friends would graduate, transfer to other stores, or get other jobs. I became a constant in people's lives, a great part of the job, only I didn't believe anymore that my role in  life was to be the cheery cashier happy to be living with her parents no matter the age and happy at my job, because as people moved on, I wanted to move on. Staying meant not growing. The funny thing about positivity is that it runs out. When change must occur, there is no bright side to even the most mundane situation, so change becomes the birght side.
I could try to convince myself I was happy, or I could look at why I thought for some reason other people deserved good things more than I did, that I was meant to settle.
 And so I'm here now, and on day 2 it's going well. I can't jump right in to activities, but i have never been able to do that. I have to figure out the logistics first, at my own pace.


Rest in Peace, Ty. You didn't lose.

When? When you're ready, that's when.

Not before
Before, False starts may occur
Before, it's not time
There's too many considerations to be made
But when you're ready?
Everything falls into place
like never before
I didn't know life could work like this
Step one, step two step three
Forward, onward
I feel this is universal
that if something is not meant to be
It won't be
Something has to be done first
Lessons learned
Love to give
But when it's time?
the heart opens
lets experiences in
because you're ready

Dear all the forces that be,

Dear God, Karma, and Universe,
I would just like to say "Thanks" for this opportunity to open up for me and advance so smoothly. It's like you saw my charitable donations, positivity, and heart and decided to open up my world. I've worked hard these past two years on myself in order to ready myself for this opportunity. I'm often asked how I stay positive, but the truth is, I work at it and I don't see any other choice of being. However, I would also like to thank you, God, for not labeling me as "negative" when I ran out of energy and could not put forth any positivity.  Thank you for rewarding me for working so hard to be a good person. I understand that as a person with a disability the trials I face are not  the worst ever, I realize that children suffer with illness, veterans suffer with injury, and many parts of the Earth struggle with Violence, yet you, God, understood that it was not perspective that I needed but change of circumstance to work to my optimal ability.
This is the beginning of great things.

I can't sit still

I can't sit still
I'm ready, waiting to break free
I know I'll be missed
I need to do this
I will be more independent with assistance than ever before
Free of thinking "How will I do it?"
 Thinking "When?"
Not having to try so hard to live with passion
just living not waiting
 Becoming who I am supposed to be

For World CP day

On How I got Here

By Melissa Taylor

Ideally, every person would accept their challenges in life and find a way around these.  A strict schedule of grief and acceptance, including the how-to manual would be included in a kit, and everyone with challenges and disabilities would know that “Everyone feels like this!” and “Everyone has challenges!” and magically, everything would be ok.

      However, no typical chart exists. Or if one exists, I have never been on the chart. Although I  draw inspiration from article, persons I meet with challenges, and segments on television, nothing ever resonates  as away of being.

       Every person owns their journey in life with disability. Some may visualize it as a mountain, others deep valley, others still a swimming in a crashing ocean. A Segway, a walker, a wheelchair, or crutches may be used to transport him or herself through the terrain, and the representation of acceptance or success different for each individual. For some it may be walking independently, for others, adapted sports. Until about age 23, I was gung-ho about life; an avid student, I worked part time, and I fulfilled every commitment ever promised.  I never thought I’d feel “stoppable.” As I got older, I had less energy for positivity. I didn’t walk by myself as much, I’d endured a frustrating internship at an inner-city school, a successful internship at a school in town. My heart makes up for whatever I cannot do.  I realize now that I compensated with soul for not only cerebral palsy, but my organizational deficits caused by learning disabilities. This compensation takes energy, and  suddenly, my reserves depleted. Usually a go-to for positivity, happiness, and love for my students, fatigue paralyzed me. After deciding to end student teaching, I was lost. Ever since, well-meaning acquaintances have asked me “What do you want to do with your life?” I am  First, what I wanted in life was for people to stop asking me questions. I focused on getting a ride to work, and staying positive, which took energy. Finding my path in life required stamina not available to me. Trying harder with teaching proved impossible, and returning to school not feasible. These factors caused me to give up on myself, the saddest part of my journey. I stopped dreaming when discovering  neurological and personal aspects caused me to cross out opportunities, feeling infinitely disabled. All I thought of were impossibilities.  I’ve always known that my path to success would be defined differently than a non-disabled person. However, I refuse to have lower expectations for myself, as  I know myself best. With with the right job, self-support  is a reality. This right job will not appear as a position as a neurosurgeon,  a mathematician, but a job that holds passion and promise. Cashiering is respectable, but there’s a “happiness  ceiling”,; a limit to which I can be happy having other interests, expending much energy for little money, at a location I have been working since high school.  No longer can I look on the bright side to a job with no promise of professional growth. I never intended to be tethered indefinitely to the income limits of social security or the intellectual limits of cashiering. I came to the realization that as hard as it s that doctors and psychologists box me in with a label, it is even more disturbing when I box myself in with the labels assigned to me.

Knowing

Knowing how much I have, how lucky I am, and how much I can do, it surprises me that I get down on myself still.  This knowledge does not render my life perfect or mean that I am always happy, even if (and here's the big part) I pressure myself to be.  The problem isn't that I'm a negative person, I'm just like everyone else. As much as having a disability, my number of siblings, and life experiences have shaped me, I am bound to get frustrated, because people do.  It may seem that I blow up over little things, in reality, I can keep it in control for a long time. I brush it off because I get that people are going to become impatient (being human and all). Usually it's the ninth time in the day, or even the week that someone said I was sitting down on the job, or that I look tired, or tries to get by my walker and I can't and I was doing something while the customer behind me wanted to get by and I lost concentration I can feel the need to let off steam. The steam I feel isn't even about the person asking me to move, or my not being able to move as quickly. It's because I need the walker at all, and I used to not use one at work. (although I seem to forget the fact of the painful feet and walking when I didn't have a seat readily available.) 

Moving on

Looking back at my posts, there is a theme about being more social, getting out there. Yet I have had this blog almost two years, and while a lot has changed, my residence, my lack of orthodontia, and how I express myself verbally, and I am still the same person on the social front.  I live in a rural community, peaceful but isolating. In June, I found out about a complex that my friend moved into. I had been thinking about moving out for a long time, but due to the costs of living in this area, and the lack of public transportation, it seemed out of my reach. I looked up this apartment complex and it seemed like a dream. Transportation is provided, and every resident has a personal care attendant. Though I manage on my own, a personal care attendant would be able to help with household tasks I struggle with. If I am not struggling, space in my brain can be occupied by other things. I had the tour, and the campus was beautiful. I visited my friend's apartment, which had a lot of room to move around and the bedroom was spacious. Next was the interview. It was comfortable and friendly, after which I was told to wait a few weeks for scheduling a home visit to answer any questions, and then I would hear about being added to the waiting list. This happened on Wednesday, and Friday afternoon before work, I received a call about my approval!
    I don't know when I will move in, but at the rate that everything went through, I believe it's sooner rather than later.  It's time. I know even with all these services, life won't be perfect. I'm not  looking for perfect, I'm looking for different. I need to learn what I like to do, learn how to cook with assistance, and become who I am supposed to be.

the space between how doctors thought my life was and how it actually is

When doctor's say "Be active":
I hear "Go do something you aren't good at in front of people you don't know"

When I hear others say "Your CP is so mild!/You can do so much!/Be Positive!

I hear: "You should be over this by now, it's old news, it's not a big deal"

A funny thing happens when I think of my health history by itself, my body by itself, without comparison to a more pronounced disability; I realize that even if a lot of people with CP have more issues than I do, even though I can walk and talk and my struggles are few globally speaking, and even if this fact might not make any sense; it's still difficult for me.
Just take my word for it.

My intuition tells me that I could go to psychotherapy or physical therapy for a hundred years and still have some days when life stinks
Because everyone does.

Because if the expectation is that I will get used to this some day, I have to change my expectations
Some things in life are just difficult, and their difficulty does not communicate the fact that I am not good enough, this difficulty tells me

that it's just hard. Not that I am less than or bad, or need work on issues,
Life is hard with the wanting and the trying and then maybe the results are meh
 As easy as it looked for me to hey just go take gym with kids without disabilities and play sports, it wasn't that easy. I struggled with basic motor tasks and avoided feeling different at all costs.
As easy as my life looked for the doctors, as they didn't think I needed much therapy, I believed they didn't care, that I was in this on my own.
I felt like I didn't deserve a better life.
That I was "bad" at having CP
well maybe so but having to deal with CP as a kid is kind of "bad" too.
There, I said it.
A gift, perhaps, but one that teaches others more than myself

Exciting, yet intimidating news

    So, in April, I was denied services from the Bureau of Rehabilitation Services. I called the supervisor of the office and we talked.  I gave her time to read my file, and called her back, opened my case, giving me a new counselor. Now, I am not the type of person that enjoys agency types of appointments, but the most important aspect of becoming a client is the funding it would provide for me to receive services from other agencies, namely the one that I met with in February that had great confidence in me. 

     Even so, I'm a little bit intimidated by the fact that I am a client of this agency again. The building is depressing, the office depressing. I feel a little embarrassed that I have only had one job in my life, that I have education in certain fields but not experience in those fields. However, the emotional endurance piece I have been working on enters. Meeting goals sometimes requires assistance. I have to endure the appointments and the waiting to get through to making more money and living independently. Positivity is great, but positivity sometimes allows me to remain firmly planted where I am right now. So for change, sometimes it's necessary to admit "No, I'm not happy here and I can no longer be happy here." I excel at seeming happy so well that some might argue that "Well if doing this makes you happy, that's all that matters." No. It doesn't make me happy. Pays the bills? yes. Provides medical insurance that is better accepted than say, Medicare? Yes. But not necessarily fulfilled. Being liked isn't enough for me; I have so many intangible skills that are not utilized by cashiering. I won't ever be promoted by my employer because the company tends to look at what I can't do, but even more because I don't want to be promoted to a supervisory position with more responsibilities but only slightly more pay.  It's scary to take this step into accepting help, but it's a sure step in becoming who I am supposed to be.

the wrong angle

Instead of thinking "The way I am isn't good enough now so I have to change," or "I don't want to change because I'm happy with who I am" I need to build emotional endurance to be able to power through the times when I feel inferior.  From a disease model, I needed to change because I was defective. In reality though, it's not about a radical change. It's loving myself enough to endure the hard times of personal and professional change to get through the other side. If I don't, I am saying no to myself, eliminating opportunities because of the negative tape that plays in my head. This movie shows me being in a meeting with a client and coming apart, or shutting down when I am supposed to advocate for someone. However, the opposite of this is understanding my emotions and learning to control them, and calmly asserting a professional version of myself. I can do all of this. The story I tell myself is wrong.
  

A Rundown

 Here's a little overview of me: On the inside and to those who know me...I'm educated, perceptive, knowledgeable, and friendly. But to people that have never met me before and see a woman sitting on a walker working at a grocery store, they think I am a consumer of an agency for persons with disabilities, because this person may run events for such an agency: f someone with a disability is bagging for me, they think "Oh there's a program that get's people jobs, how wonderful." (actual paraphrased comment from someone.) But here's the truth:
I do not have a job coach. I did not get this job thru an agency; far from the truth. I got my job at 16 in 1999 when someone was having people fill out applications. I figured Hey, I'll try it, what the heck. I didn't use a walker then, but I still had CP, of course. I was a kid who liked having her own money and enjoyed relating to people, and fought for acceptance. I knew how things should be and if something was wrong if I felt misunderstood, I communicated my concerns. I kept trying. Co-workers weren't always nice. Customers didn't understand. There was no advocate between myself and the store, just myself. Eventually as I opened up, I gained trust in some co-workers that helped me. 
     I stayed with the company thru high school and college, then left for graduate school, but found myself needing money and drifting in life between my internship and the start of student teaching. I called the store after applying online. I had an interviewed and was rehired, this time, I sat down when ringing.
   I am sure there are more people with disabilities without job coaches. The assumption can't always be true that walker=agency, though I might use an agency to help advance my career. Maybe  a person with a disability just took a chance. I am not a product of your agency's work, though your agency shows greatness throughout the community. What I ask is that society consider that I am a product of my own determination.

I am more

I am More
More than my IQ
or test results
or labels
and for every time I felt trapped and could not regulate my emotions
I let them slip
Kicking myself mentally because I'm letting them slip
knowing how I'll be perceived
What about the thousand moments in between I nodded in agreement?
I helped someone?
I understood?
I'm not the fastest and I never have been a competitive person
unless, even with my emotional ways, even if I unintentionally cause discomfort
or seem to manipulate, I'm striving
to be the best person I can be
To look beyond how people should act, how things appear, look not only through my lens
(Because not everyone has gone to college, had good grades, two parents, or the experiences I have had, even if they never say so)
and see, feel what people are saying
So go ahead and call me "emotional"
and I may as well say
"Thanks"

The Barriers

The greatest barrier I face in my job search may well be the fact that I already have been successfully employed for most of the past twelve years. I didn't really intend to be with the company that long, but bills need to be paid. Insurance needs to pay for physical therapy, or counseling, or whatever. And so then I become concerned with the day to day, the transportation getting to said job. After that, I figure I might as well enjoy my time at home before work so I read blogs and look at YOUTUBE, and chat with my sister.
Another barrier I face doesn't have a name. I don't know why it happens. When I become overwhelmed, my brain takes a break, and I zone out. Or sometimes I might seem reluctant to join in on a project, because I don't just jump right in. Something stops me from doing so. It's almost as if with other people, I don't feel as if I have enough "room" to think and formulate my thoughts, so I tend to just let other people take over. I'm not really sure what role to play in a project unless it is spelled out for me. (There are some reality shows where I'd never make it). These issues have made up a huge wall in my life that I cannot get past. I prefer written communication to any other form, because I can go back and delete what I don't want to say, and take time to phrase things as I like.
Has this ever happened to anybody else?
You make a statement
The receiver either makes a complete joke about the statement and starts loudly laughing HAHAHAHAHA
until you just say forget it.
Or, even worse, maybe, is perhaps when one asks a question and is greeted, without finishing a sentence, with some philosophical paragraph about how life is or what one needs to do, but this lecture wasn't even necessary, because the person wasn't assuming anything, she just wanted an answer to the question.
Or how about when a person says he or she will be available for you, but then doesn't deliver, and then lectures about how busy he or she is, and how I have to do things differently, etc.
Ok, no need for a lecture, it's just that you said you were going to do it, and if you can't that's fine, but turning it into a lesson of some sort really isn't necessary.

It's CP Awareness Month!

Cerebral Palsy is a tricky condition. Living with cerebral palsy is a highly personal, individualized experience. It's not really a condition at all as much as it is a descriptor "Something happened in the brain that affects my motor function." As I get older, I realize I might have to do things differently. Maybe I can't work full-time. Maybe I will be able to drive one day, maybe not. I don't know if I am like everyone else. I know I have always felt different, not only because of how cerebral palsy affects my life, but also the fact that I have a huge family, I'm one of the only females in my family, I have anxiety and mental health issues that some people think I made up or am being dramatic about. As much as people will try to tell me I'm just like everyone else, I know that I'm not. I'm just myself.
When I was younger, I had more "mojo" to prove people wrong. I had more strength to overcome obstacles and challenge myself. Now, sometimes I just want something to be easy, or I avoid tasks or situations I don't like. Awareness of CP became apparent as I was older; it's there and it's not leaving, and I understand more than ever what this means for me. I pray with thanks every day for the independence I have, however, sometimes I do wish things were different if only I could fit in more. I wish that I wasn't so afraid that people wouldn't give me a chance. I wish family and friends that I may call to explain my situation wouldn't just explain the "other person's view." Because I understand the other person's view. I understand how life is, how life can be, I get it. Life has been beating me upside the head about how life could be (And I'm talking all of it, joy, sadness, pain, accomplishment, disappointment) for the last twenty-nine years.
I try. I make mistakes. I smile. I cry. I feel awesome. I feel uncool. I get frustrated.
I'm authentic.
I'm aware of how cerebral palsy affects me and how other's situations in life affect them.
I get it.
I'm aware.

Being Me in a World that might insist I change

I wish I were different, a different type of person sometimes. However, I know now, that growing a thick skin, becoming less sensitive, or toughening up just won't happen. It's not meant to be. I would love to be that person who is businesslike, a chameleon changing to fit every situation, adapting to my environment. The older I get, however, the more I see that for better or worse, this is the person I am, and was meant to be.
Life and the world today astonishes me. I see pain around me. I see sickness and depression and I learned of a suicide recently. And I feel the pain of others, I am aware of it; almost as if it permeates my existence. And so then I have to balance finding that "reality check" and still deal with the issues of my own life.
I see the world differently than most people, as a result, I my perceptions are often translated into "what I thought happened versus what, in reality happened." And so maybe for most people that is what their reality is. But I don't know, I've only been myself. I've never not had cerebral palsy, I've never not been sensitive.
So what I'm saying is, as much as I would like to just be able to put on a business suit and adopt a tough exterior, or deal with life with a straight face, without emoting, this is who I am. I can't fight it anymore. I have to accept all of myself, because I don't think you can have the Melissa that is stoic and still have the Melissa that helps and is willing to learn about people. I can't keep working agianst who I was meant to be. Kind of like how sometimes I want my positivity of ten years ago and my exercise habits of four years ago, and to never use the walker again. But I can't have it all and be truly me.

Don't look over here

I am not personified hope and positivity
Don't look to me for that
Don't count on me for a smile or a joke
I can't give you what you need.
I have no perspective
I'm casting aside the costume
that came with the role of being radiant light
Don't look to me for the answer of how to always be happy
Because I don't think that exists
See when I tried to become a certified teacher
I realized I had been teaching my whole life.
It's exhausting. I have no answers I just know
This is my life, I get one. I'm not totally accepting of my flaws
I just know I can't walk around feeling like a giant flaw

Help save Amelia!

Change.org|Start an Online Petition »

Confession: I let it get to me

I want to just focus on the good, I want to be positive
But I've changed inside

This person always knew

Even Plato knew life was hard. According to numerous websites, he is quoting "Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle." I have always understood that. It's a battle to be happy, to stay positive, to keep trying. The other day my managers were telling me that it would be easier to be born with a disability than acquire it, but I am not sure that is accurate, especially since I have had varying levels of mobility throughout my life. Could it be, that the two experiences are not comparable? Disability, and life, actually is a personal, objective, experience. Pain can't be quantified in a comparison. So "hard battle' pretty much covers it. Addiction, chronic pain, depression, mental health disorders, cancer, inherited diseases, divorce, abuse, money problems, disappointments, and crime are all painful battles. We all are fighting them. Let's all be kind.

2012: The year I both recognize myself as and stop being a tough girl

I am not a tough woman in the sense when "tough" equals "stoic." I feel emotions strongly, with difficulty hiding them. I cannot hide them, but I can control them. I'm sensitive, that's not a good thing or bad thing it's just myself. On the other hand, I am a strong woman. I've had surgery. I've had physical therapy. I've been analyzed and scrutinized and doubted. From the outside, you wouldn't know it. It's not something I advertise. Life with a disability is visible enough whether in my gait or when I am using my walker. Explaining my life is complicated; a simple "If/then" hypothesis does not apply.

That being said, even though I know myself well, and what I can and cannot control, it is confusing perhaps to customers where I work. It might look like I don't know what I'm doing. It might cause a person to question my experience or technique. These comments cause me to tense up, thinking "I need to get this person out of here now." Which might lead to more mistakes, causing more comments. If I were a tough person, in the conventional sense, I would act in accordance with what some have suggested said I should do, which is smile and tell the person to have a good day. But I'm not tough, I know too much now about myself to even pretend to be tough. I know I need to walk away when frustrated or upset. I know when I cannot work effectively and I need a break. I know when nothing I do will be deemed good enough by customers and since the customer may want me to have someone take over, I call someone over.

Here's the thing. I don't expect to be admired or put up on a pedestal for working and having CP. I don't expect every customer to be nice. I've learned the rules of working with the public; I know how people can be. There is nothing valuable that I can learn from a customer being rude to me.

But I want everyone to learn this: Please don't take your bad day out on a customer service person at a store. I'm not a therapist. I have enough problems of my own, which is obvious by the walker that I sit on. I want to get you out of the store as quickly as possible. If I scan something twice, I will quickly remove it. By the way, it's not because I don't know how to do my job, it's because I really shouldn't lift heavy things, but I did it because you obviously need to get out of here and I didn't want to slow down the process. And by the way, if you don't like how I scan things? Scan them yourself at the self-check out. Rudeness and intolerance has no place in my line. Keep those thoughts to yourself.