The Queen of England

I was raised to believe that holding the door open for people is a courtesy that should always be extended. Thus, I just don’t have the ability to let a door close in another person’s face, my hand physically won’t let me do it, no matter how much of a rush I am in. This has meant holding the door open for a great variety of people: from the nice and the appreciative, to the abrupt, the oblivious, the assholes and the Queens of England. Not the real Queen of England, but people who think they are the Queen of England. You all know who I mean, right? There’s always someone in your life who has the Queen complex. They think their crap smells like Apple pie and you should be grateful they fart in your direction.

Holding the door open for people means you have a 50% chance of walking away in a bad mood. Cause there is a 50% chance that an asshole or a Queen will take advantage of your courtesy. At Youngest’s school, the percentage jumps up to 75%. I know it’s a risk that I’m going to be mad at someone, but still, like a pig to mud, I just gotta hold that door open. I’ve come to terms with this. Accepting that I will do what is right not for the jerks and idiots, but for the 25% who appreciate the courtesy and will in turn extend it elsewhere. But sometimes… grrrrrr…

So today I need to meet someone in Virginia for an appointment that I am on the verge of being late to. But I see a woman with two kids coming in so, as usual, I hold the door open. This particular door is a locked door so in the morning rush of drop off, it is always polite to hold it for another parent with their children. And by this point, since it is a fairly small pre-school, most people know each other by sight. So I am holding the door open for this woman, who clearly sees me but is seemingly in no rush to hurry her kids through. She literally continues to saunter slowly over while my fingers begin to itch with a frenzied desire to let the door go. Her older kid who is 5 and used to be in class with Youngest, looks at me and walks by, without a word of thanks. Ok, I’ll excuse him since he is 5, even though all my girls were taught to thank people before they could walk. But I understand that they may be an anomaly.

He rushes in and down towards his class. I am still waiting for the Queen of England and her younger child to walk through. She is clearly a Queen because she languidly drawls out a “thanks” but doesn’t even look at me. She is now standing right in front of the doorway in such a way that if I let go of the door it would slam into her butt, which by its flatness looks like many doors have slammed in to it over the years. Her daughter stops and insists the Queen pick her up. The Queen shakes her head and says “No way I’m carrying you in! I might break a nail!” errr, ok – she didn’t actually say the nail part, but she did lift up her hands and shake them in such a way that I believe the message was the same. She then walks around her daughter and down the hallway, leaving the 3 year old standing right in front of the doorway. Keep in mind, I am still standing there, unable to let the door go on a little kid, even if such demon child has begun to shriek like a slew of fire engines racing to a 5 alarm fire.

Other parents creep in and out, guiltily thanking me for holding open the door, even as none of them offer to hold the door in my stead. I’m like Charon, the ferryman of the Styx River, with the worst job in the world. No one wants to take over for me because they know they will be stuck doing it for eternity instead. I try scooting the kid in to the building but the girl has turned into stone even as her shriekfest intensifies. I shout down the hall. “Hey your Majesty! I can’t hold this door forever!” over the screams of the demon child and I finally see the Queen huff back over and grab her daughter while giving me a loud "rolling your eyes" tsk at me coupled with a nasty sneer. I just let the door go and walked away. It turns out I can let the door shut in someone's face after all!