On getting RIGHT in the damn way

As a rule I try to be a polite person. 

I mean I make a point of thinking about how my actions might impact the quality of life of others. 

I try not to be selfish. 

I was raised to believe selfish was akin to being a devil worshiper, horrible person, evil, bad guy. 

One of the ways I try to be polite, is to not linger in lines, and not take up overly much space in public places.

Rolf often laments the shittiness of bus riding, which is exacerbated by clueless people with giant backpacks. Backpacks they either insist on wearing on their backs, thus making them EXTRA wide, or storing them on the empty seat next to them.
He and I  agree that we would never in ten thousand years do such a thing. 

Good Grief.  

Heaven's NO!

My own issue lately is with a group of housewifey joggers that meet at the Starbucks that is near my office.  Every morning I rush in and purchase a Venti coffee, and every morning I need to put cream in my coffee, and every morning I have to push my way through this throng of self absorbed assholes, blocking the condiment table, like a flock of polar fleeced, head-banded geese.   

The Starbucks is large.  

It is set up to mimic a salon, or a real cafe.  

There are lovely sofas and large community tables. 

But this group feels the need to cluster so tightly and so closely around the tiny condiment table, that I must ask them each time, interrupting their loud, animated chat, to please move out of the god damned way, so I can get some cream.  Most of the time they are so wrapped up they don't move until I ask several time, and have become frustrated.  Sometimes they move a smidgen, a micro movement, that doesn't allow me to comfortably reach the cream, so I sort of have to extend my arms in the is absurd manner that results in spillage.  

Occasionally I am curt and frank, and they give each other knowing looks, as if to say "if she would only don a reflective vest and go jogging, she would be ever so much less cranky."

I sometimes think of my grandmother, who might say "I could just slap the taste right out of your mouth."

 Naturally I don't slap anyone, and I ask fairly nicely most of the time, but I do wonder, who raised these clowns to be so self centered?