Small-ness

I'm feeling the pain of a small town right now, and remembering more and more how it was. One good thing about gigantic, urban-sprawl-infested cities, is you don't have to deal with some of the painful things that go along with small towns.

I'm used to both, big and small. I detest the isolation of a big city, but I detest the pettiness and smallmindedness that comes along with a small town; the pervasive envy that spreads like poison ivy and the propensity for cattiness. I had another merchant come into the store today, I didn't talk with her but overheard her talking to Micki. I was so sad at the things she felt it was necessary to say about other businesses in town, and also how important it was to her to communicate that while some of "her customers" may have shopped at our store, she wanted to make it clear they belonged to her. I sat in my office chuckling to myself, and felt very thankful I was in my office and not talking with her directly.

She also said that she had talked with the former gallery owners, also the building owners about leasing the space herself, but she didn't really see how a store like ours or hers could really make it given the rent. And finally I overheard her directly and boldly telling a lie about something and had to make my way out into the gallery area, not to confront her, but simply to get her to STOP talking by changing the subject before she dug herself in any deeper.

Fortunately for all of us, customers came in just then and she hightailed it for the door.

I am also fortunate in having the age children I have. I am reminded through them that we often behave the worst when we should behave the best, because we're feeling insecure, and our behavior, particularly bad behavior is almost invariably directly linked to our insecurities, unless overly-tired or overly-hungry comes into play.

Maybe the unpleasant lady was just hungry. I should've offered her something to eat.