Nobody Likes a Cutter

Ladies and gentlemen: do you know what really pisses me off? I mean, really gets under my skin? Here it is: when Russians cut in line. Okay, well, not just Russians, but all humans. But all the humans in this country are Russian, so there. And when they cut in line, let me tell ya, I’m ready to slap a bitch.

Back in 2008, when I was studying abroad through Stanford at this hella yuppie university called the Academy of the National Economy, the Russian students cut in line at the cafeteria as if it were some rite of passage. Literally without fail, everyday at least 10 people cut in line in front of me. The fact that they were spoiled, rich, arrogant kids only made it more annoying. So while I would start out in a pretty good spot in the line, soon enough I would be at the tail end of a long-ass line that previously did not exist. That really got my goat, but back then my Russian vocabulary consisted of “hello”, “goodbye”, and “thank you”, so there wasn’t much I could do to correct the gross injustice I witnessed everyday in that warzone of a cafeteria.

But today, I put a stop to it. Today I stuck it to the man (that is, the cutting-in-line man) and said “ah hellllll nah”. Today I was feeling a little bit on the grumpy side, so I was ready to get ferocious with some Russians if need be. And, well, sure enough, there I was, standing like a good law-abiding citizen in the cafeteria line, and a group of two or three dudes cut in front of me. (The way it works is that if someone wants to cut in line, they pretend that they are extra good friends with someone up near the front, and they suddenly get all chummy, and make conversation with that person. And soon enough, they’ve finagled their way into the line. And they feel so goddamn good about themselves, having manipulated their way to the front of the line.) So when the aforementioned two or three Russian dudes were soon followed by two or three more dudes trying to cut in front of me, I wouldn’t have it. I got all indignant and, in the best Russian I could, managed to say, “Excuse me, please!” And the Russians got all freaked out by the seething little American and went to the back of the line. I felt pretty damn good about myself. Just being able to put those damn cutting Russians in their place compensated for all the times those asshole yuppie Russians at ANE cut in front of me with impunity. I mean, seriously people, who the hell cuts in line? Okay, yeah, we did that shit in elementary school, but we’re in college, kids. And you’re going to have to answer to Buff Bagot if you want to get your lunch without having to pay your waiting-in-line-like-everybody-else dues.

In other news, Vladimir Vladimirovitch continues to bite me every single day, multiple times.