Thursday, February 19, 2009

Sudokus mean a lot to me

The fact that this event happened at least two years ago does not quiet my fury over it. This is a disclaimer: I hold grudges.

I enjoy doing Sudoku. My grandmother, thoughtful soul that she is, cuts them out of the newspaper for me and buys me Sudoku books.

It was an eight hour closing shift, before I had become a manager, so I was entitled to all of my breaks: a fifteen, a thirty, and another fifteen. On my first fifteen, I ate a granola bar and did part of the Sudoku. It was a hard one, I was eating, and there just wasn't time.

Fast forward to my "meal" or thirty minute break. I go to the back, warm up my food, and settle down for my Sudoku.

Only my Sudoku has already been completed, and not by me. The handwriting is considerably neater than mine.

The manager on duty casually admits to completing the puzzle, saying something like, "I love those things and there wasn't much else to do back there."

This is how people get away with doing rude things: by acting casual about it. I, too, acted casual, as though I didn't think taking someone's puzzle and completing it without their permission was rude. And as though I didn't think that acting casual and not embarrassed was out of line.

He was merely filling in as our store had lost several managers. He later moved because he couldn't afford to live on the low salary (just $.25 more than I was making as a cashier). But every time I see a partially filled out puzzle, or when I was rushing to finish my Samurai Sudoku before lunch, I think of that bastard who finished my puzzle. Without my permission. And then had the audacity to act casual about it.

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