RULES DON'T APPLY
Or Do They?
“If the shoe doesn’t fit at the shoe store, it’s never going to fit.”
I’m sure you’ve heard that advice. I’ve heard it, too. But the boots were gorgeous! I saw them from across the store. They were red suede, knee high, with chunky heels. I made a beeline for the shoe department. As soon as I picked them up, I was flanked by three women who were also admiring the boots. I got there first. I turned the tag over … size seven and a half. I’m a size eight, and sometimes even an eight and a half. Maybe it was the peer pressure of my surrounding competitors, but how could I not buy this fabulous pair of red boots?? I took them home and stuffed them with newspaper in an attempt to stretch them out. It didn’t work. I wore them a time or two anyway, but regretted it immediately.
Following the rules is something I generally do. I’ve developed the habit of following the rules because when I don’t, things don’t go well. Other people don’t seem to have this problem. You know the ones … the drivers who whiz past you at one hundred miles an hour on the highway and never get a speeding ticket. Or the customer who walks straight up to the newly opened checkout lane, bypassing the lines of people who have been waiting, and exits the store—packages in hand—while the rest of us haven’t moved an inch. Things like that don’t happen for me.
My husband loves to tell the red light story. You see, when we first met in college, I was working the late-night shift at a local pub. Last call was two a.m., and after counting my till and cleaning up, I was on the road about three. On the drive home, there was one intersection that had an unusually long red light. Night after night, I would sit at that light and wait for it to turn green. There were never any other cars around. It was maddening. I timed it once, and the light took five minutes to change! Five minutes seems like an eternity when you’re sitting by yourself at an intersection at three in the morning. I had been complaining about it to him, so he suggested I just stop, and then go—even if the light hadn’t turned green yet. “Nobody’s around,” he said. “So what could go wrong?”
Well, I’ll tell you what went wrong! I was pulled over and given a roadside sobriety test. It was humiliating and nerve-wracking. Standing on the side of the road with a burly police officer instructing me to stand on one leg and touch my nose. I can’t stand on one leg and touch my nose, even if I haven’t been drinking! If you ever run into this problem, I suggest you practice. It took a while for me to convince the officer I wasn’t drunk; I was just a poor example of a flamingo.
I was pulled over several times that year, even when I didn’t run a red light. It seems that, for me anyway, simply being the only car on the road at three in the morning is suspicion enough. And just in case I wasn’t convinced after repeated traffic stops, I was also given a ticket the one time—THE ONE TIME—I turned left in front of a right-turn-only sign.
So, I nod and smile as I slowly pass the poor chump getting a ticket on the side of the road. And I bite my tongue when I see a woman in the shoe section forcing a too small shoe to fit. Some lessons you just have to learn for yourself. Obviously, they think the rules don’t apply.
