Happiness, Tin Foil, and the Quiet Aisle
by Missy Hall
“You sure are happy,” a woman who was clearly NOT happy grumbled at me in Wegmans as I pursued the tin foil options, wondering why flippin’ TIN FOIL is so expensive. I grinned at her and cocked my head much like a labradoodle, trying to understand what she meant.
“You’re singing and whistling,“ she continued in a tone indicating she does NOT care for singing and whistling, neither of which I was even aware I was doing. “It’s usually quiet on this end of the store.” Then she brushed by me in disgust, grabbing the very box of tin foil I was reaching for.
Ok, there was a lot to unpack here. First and foremost, I wondered about my singing and whistling…how often do I do that without realizing it? Do I sing and whistle subconsciously in the grocery store every time I’m there or only while on tin foil expeditions? Was I loud? I don’t think I was loud; surely I was just quietly bopping along to the music playing in the store. The music in Wegmans is very catchy…shouldn’t EVERYONE be singing and whistling? Second, why would a person who does not know me blurt “You are so happy” and indicate she was disgusted by it? Does she not know there are thoughts that can simply stay IN HER HEAD? And the way she spewed the words “singing” and “whistling”...she said them in the way you’d expect one to say “picking your nose” and “scratching your butt.” Was I somehow as cringy as a store nose-picker/ butt-scratcher? Finally, what’s with the “It’s usually very quiet in his end of the store” thing? Did she mean like one of those quiet cars on a train…was there some “Quiet Aisles” sign I missed? And would a “Quiet Aisles” sign have made a difference since I hadn’t been aware of my musical outburst to begin with? Does everyone take note of what aisles are the usually quiet aisles? If so, why have I never noticed this particular societal phenomenon? Most important, however, is what did NOT happen. I did not feel ashamed.
See, for many years of my life, I assumed I was the problem in any scenario in which anyone expressed displeasure. “I’m sorry” had been my response to any indication that anyone was displeased with my presence, my actions, the weather, or the fact that I say “tin foil” instead of “aluminum foil.” Not because I’ve ever felt so important that I believe am the very cause of other people’s moods or responses; rather, I felt this way because there were many times and relationships in which I was treated as if I was. I felt the very opposite of important. I felt that all others were more important and therefore my words, actions, and silence needed to be adjusted for their comfort, no matter how it affected me. A large chunk of my life was spent worrying about and caving into how others responded to what I did or said, trying to be a good girl, trying not to rock the boat.
“Tone it down, Rudolph.” Those words were hissed into my ear by my first husband, and not for the first time. He was angry, squeezing my upper arm tightly as a group of friends laughed hard at something I’d said. I was mortified, feeling embarrassed about being “too much” and stunned by the fact that Ruldolph, the sweet reindeer who once saved Christmas, was being used as a weapon against me. I was deflated; I was a shell. In my shame, I didn’t realize I was continuing a pattern of allowing myself to be molded into a person I wasn’t in order to please people who would only be happy around a version of me who was small, a version of Missy who didn’t take up space.
This happens to a lot of us, doesn’t it? The feeling we need to fit; we need to keep others comfortable, we need to cater to the misery of cranky people and not smile when someone doesn’t think we should smile. We feel we need to be quiet and still, even if we happen to feel like singing along to the music in the grocery store. Guess what? WE DON’T! We need to be the authentic versions of ourselves, the ones who are not holding back for the sake of others (unless the authentic version of you is a serial killer or a timeshare salesman- in those cases, please hold back). But if you are a light? SHINE, my friend.
These days, I don’t assume I’m the problem. Someone else’s bad mood and resentment of my oblivious joy is not my problem…there is no action I’m required to take to make someone annoyed by me in the tin foil aisle feel anything at all, and there is no reason for my own mood to change. It stings to realize there was a time during which I would have let myself feel small and humiliated by a person- a stranger I will likely never see again, no less- being annoyed by what she perceived as my happiness. It would have gotten to me. But guess what? The 2024 version of me was not the least bit negatively affected. I just grinned at the “you’re so happy” lady and shrugged my shoulders as she walked away with what was going to my box of tin foil, pleased that I get to be me in the situation instead of someone who can be so terse about a happy person existing in her aisle.
Does this mean I’m more confident than I used to be? Certainly. Am I finally a mature grown up? Not likely. But perhaps I’m simply what that poor woman was disgusted by…happy. Yup, I am happy. Not every moment, but it’s definitely my baseline. So if you happen to catch me singing and whistling, (or picking my nose and scratching my butt) in the quiet tin foil aisle, just be cool. I’m not ruining your day. I’m simply enjoying mine.