Peter walked into the deli-mart located on the same corner where he had gotten off of the bus. To enter this particular store, one would have to push a pull handle on the door. Peter hated this; people pulling on push-bars or pushing pull handles all day with out blinking an eye.
No one ever complained. No one ever said, “Hey, why don’t you put the proper handles, ones that are congruent with traffic flow and the direction in which the door swings.” Peter knew the difference and the sheer lack of any planning combined with the blatant crappy craftsmanship got under his skin.
He quickly picked up a small plastic, blue-handled basket and proceeded directly to the dairy case. He grabbed four quarts of fat free milk and a dozen eggs.
Before letting the glass door swing back closed, he deftly drew a smiley face on the inside of the now foggy door. Peter turned, contented with the positive affirmation left behind, kind of neutralizing the bitter feeling he was still sort of harboring from having to push the pull handle and went down isle three.
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