The day I went postal on the little old lady at the thrift store...
You know how we are always mourning this current generation's lack of manners (and spelling, reading and speaking abilities)? Well, as I found out yesterday, it's not limited to only the up and coming generation.
Old people can be rude too!
And they justify it because...well, they're OLD and they think they're entitled to be that way.
So here's what happened to me yesterday. I had finished a brain candy book the evening before and decided that I wanted more of the same. After looking through my book shelves at home I was uninspired, so I thought I'd go to the little thrift store down the street just to see what kind of junky novel I could find there. There wasn't much there but one title really did jump out at me; The Last Wife of King Henry VIII. A Tudor novel?! For $1.50?! Awesome. I grabbed it right away, did a little happy dance (inside my head of course) and proceeded to look for more books (because if I have to pull out money it may as well be for more than $1.50 worth of stuff, right? ). So, as I'm looking, this short, older lady with a pointy chin and bird like face (see, I already am making you dislike her right? Just to keep you with the tour, THIS is the little old lady that is the antagonist in my story. I am the protagonist. Just to make that perfectly clear) literally barges into me, almost knocking me over, and then proceeds to stand directly in front of me and starts looking for a book. She's mumbling away to herself for what seems like an eternity. I really can't stand it anymore and being the extremely helpful (and may I add, extremely PMS-ing) person that I am, I say to her, "What is the title of the book that you are looking for? I've just looked through all those shelves, maybe I'll recognize the title." She replys with a grouchy, "Oh, I don't know what the title of it was. My friend put it behind the counter for me and Janice went and put it back out on the shelves! Oh what was it called? I don't know! It was something about the British Monarchy." So, of course, me, being of very little brain, who should have just said something along the lines of, 'hmm...nope I didn't see it' responds instead with, 'oh yes, I have it. It's in my pile.'
Big Mistake!
The little old, nasty, bird faced lady looks through my pile that I am clutching IN MY HANDS! and says, "Oh, that's the one. That's mine!!!" and proceeds to RIP it out of my hands and marches back to the front of the store without so much as a 'thank you', or a 'may I have that?', or even a 'hey!, what's that over there?'
Me, again, being of very little brain, stands there for a minute dumbfounded (which, let's face it, really isn't that hard to do) and then I turn to this lovely lady behind me and ask her if she just saw that. Not wanting to get involved, she just gives me the canned Christian answer (oh! really people, it's OKAY to get mad once in awhile. May I remind you about Jesus and the moneychangers! He tossed tables, people. TABLES!!) Not getting the satisfaction I was looking for, I go searching the store for another Christian lady that I know who has the God-given sense to actually respond to me. Although I like her answer, I'm not as in love with it as I want to be, when all of a sudden the woman next to her, pipes up with a, "No, that's not right! You had it in your hand! It was YOURS!" Now... she looks like the kind of woman who would know what she's talking about....classy, pretty, is holding a lovely display of oriental dishes and placemats in her hand...and is obviously a thrift store/garage sale shopper. Why? Because she knew THE RULES. The RULES state that if something is in YOUR HANDS then it's yours, regardless of who saw it first. May I refer you to 'Confessions of a Shopaholic' for confirmation....
That's the answer I wanted but again, because I have the dumb on and can't brain, I get her to confirm what she told me. I say, "So you think I was in the right? You think I should go talk to her?" Probably wanting to see a cat fight and see a 40-ish something woman take down a 70-ish something one over a book for $1.50, she encourages me with a, "Definitely!"
Yep, that's all I needed......
Off I go to the counter and I'm not even sweating or nervous. This is a sure sign that my hormones are starting to get out of whack---thanks Mrs. Premenopause!--because normally I don't like confrontation and if I do have to do it I am usually a nervous wreck.
Not at that moment.
So I'll spare you the play by play but basically I said to the old witchy hag, who was morphing as I spoke to her into something more evil and terrible than even J.K. Rowling could create, that because I had the book in my hand that 'legally' it was mine (refer to THE RULES as outlined above). After a couple rounds of 'was not' and 'was too' I try to turn the tables and ask her how she would feel if the roles had been reversed. She gave me some feeble, crummy answer like, "Well then, I'd be happy for you because you got the book you wanted." I respond with my mom eyes (you know the ones that make you feel like you've just peed in a wetsuit? Yeah, those eyes) and challenge her with a, "Really? R-E-A-L-L-Y?!" To which she responds with a 'Yes', but not an emphatic one. Ah ha...she is starting to see the wickedness of her ways. I then follow through with the crushing blow when I accuse her of being rude. Ah ha...she continues to shrink. I think she's melting. After a few more of the 'rude' blows, she finally acquieses and admits that it was wrong and that she was sorry. Mwu ha ha ha....
I won.
But did I?
"Can I have the book now?" I ask.
"No. I put it in my purse."
"Well, get it out of your purse."
"No."
"Okay, well are you planning to give it back to the thrift store when you are finished reading it? Because if so I would like to buy it at that time." See how fierce and unbending I can be? Rrrrrar...
"Well, yes, I am going to do that but you'll have to wait because Matilda here wants to read it after I'm done."
(AAARGH, I think my head is going to explode!!)
"Okay, that would be fine. Could you just write my name down on a piece of paper and call me when you, Matilda and your second cousin once removed and her dog have finished with it?" Again, notice the aggressive, slightly postal , stance I am continuing to exude....
"Sure, I'll do that. And again, I am sorry. I was rude."
"That's okay. Thanks so much."
Done.
I'll get my book but you know what?
I'm not paying the whole $1.50 for it!!
It's been used!!!
Old people can be rude too!
And they justify it because...well, they're OLD and they think they're entitled to be that way.
So here's what happened to me yesterday. I had finished a brain candy book the evening before and decided that I wanted more of the same. After looking through my book shelves at home I was uninspired, so I thought I'd go to the little thrift store down the street just to see what kind of junky novel I could find there. There wasn't much there but one title really did jump out at me; The Last Wife of King Henry VIII. A Tudor novel?! For $1.50?! Awesome. I grabbed it right away, did a little happy dance (inside my head of course) and proceeded to look for more books (because if I have to pull out money it may as well be for more than $1.50 worth of stuff, right? ). So, as I'm looking, this short, older lady with a pointy chin and bird like face (see, I already am making you dislike her right? Just to keep you with the tour, THIS is the little old lady that is the antagonist in my story. I am the protagonist. Just to make that perfectly clear) literally barges into me, almost knocking me over, and then proceeds to stand directly in front of me and starts looking for a book. She's mumbling away to herself for what seems like an eternity. I really can't stand it anymore and being the extremely helpful (and may I add, extremely PMS-ing) person that I am, I say to her, "What is the title of the book that you are looking for? I've just looked through all those shelves, maybe I'll recognize the title." She replys with a grouchy, "Oh, I don't know what the title of it was. My friend put it behind the counter for me and Janice went and put it back out on the shelves! Oh what was it called? I don't know! It was something about the British Monarchy." So, of course, me, being of very little brain, who should have just said something along the lines of, 'hmm...nope I didn't see it' responds instead with, 'oh yes, I have it. It's in my pile.'
Big Mistake!
The little old, nasty, bird faced lady looks through my pile that I am clutching IN MY HANDS! and says, "Oh, that's the one. That's mine!!!" and proceeds to RIP it out of my hands and marches back to the front of the store without so much as a 'thank you', or a 'may I have that?', or even a 'hey!, what's that over there?'
Me, again, being of very little brain, stands there for a minute dumbfounded (which, let's face it, really isn't that hard to do) and then I turn to this lovely lady behind me and ask her if she just saw that. Not wanting to get involved, she just gives me the canned Christian answer (oh! really people, it's OKAY to get mad once in awhile. May I remind you about Jesus and the moneychangers! He tossed tables, people. TABLES!!) Not getting the satisfaction I was looking for, I go searching the store for another Christian lady that I know who has the God-given sense to actually respond to me. Although I like her answer, I'm not as in love with it as I want to be, when all of a sudden the woman next to her, pipes up with a, "No, that's not right! You had it in your hand! It was YOURS!" Now... she looks like the kind of woman who would know what she's talking about....classy, pretty, is holding a lovely display of oriental dishes and placemats in her hand...and is obviously a thrift store/garage sale shopper. Why? Because she knew THE RULES. The RULES state that if something is in YOUR HANDS then it's yours, regardless of who saw it first. May I refer you to 'Confessions of a Shopaholic' for confirmation....
That's the answer I wanted but again, because I have the dumb on and can't brain, I get her to confirm what she told me. I say, "So you think I was in the right? You think I should go talk to her?" Probably wanting to see a cat fight and see a 40-ish something woman take down a 70-ish something one over a book for $1.50, she encourages me with a, "Definitely!"
Yep, that's all I needed......
Off I go to the counter and I'm not even sweating or nervous. This is a sure sign that my hormones are starting to get out of whack---thanks Mrs. Premenopause!--because normally I don't like confrontation and if I do have to do it I am usually a nervous wreck.
Not at that moment.
So I'll spare you the play by play but basically I said to the old witchy hag, who was morphing as I spoke to her into something more evil and terrible than even J.K. Rowling could create, that because I had the book in my hand that 'legally' it was mine (refer to THE RULES as outlined above). After a couple rounds of 'was not' and 'was too' I try to turn the tables and ask her how she would feel if the roles had been reversed. She gave me some feeble, crummy answer like, "Well then, I'd be happy for you because you got the book you wanted." I respond with my mom eyes (you know the ones that make you feel like you've just peed in a wetsuit? Yeah, those eyes) and challenge her with a, "Really? R-E-A-L-L-Y?!" To which she responds with a 'Yes', but not an emphatic one. Ah ha...she is starting to see the wickedness of her ways. I then follow through with the crushing blow when I accuse her of being rude. Ah ha...she continues to shrink. I think she's melting. After a few more of the 'rude' blows, she finally acquieses and admits that it was wrong and that she was sorry. Mwu ha ha ha....
I won.
But did I?
"Can I have the book now?" I ask.
"No. I put it in my purse."
"Well, get it out of your purse."
"No."
"Okay, well are you planning to give it back to the thrift store when you are finished reading it? Because if so I would like to buy it at that time." See how fierce and unbending I can be? Rrrrrar...
"Well, yes, I am going to do that but you'll have to wait because Matilda here wants to read it after I'm done."
(AAARGH, I think my head is going to explode!!)
"Okay, that would be fine. Could you just write my name down on a piece of paper and call me when you, Matilda and your second cousin once removed and her dog have finished with it?" Again, notice the aggressive, slightly postal , stance I am continuing to exude....
"Sure, I'll do that. And again, I am sorry. I was rude."
"That's okay. Thanks so much."
Done.
I'll get my book but you know what?
I'm not paying the whole $1.50 for it!!
It's been used!!!
Comments
Way to do something about rudeness. Kudos to ya :)