We all know that I am about as brave as a mouse, right? I abhor conflict. (Well, real-life conflict, anyway. I am all about reality t.v. conflict, and am more-than-slightly ashamed to say that I will watch anything that the Bravo channel puts in front of me, with The Real Housewives of New York/New Jersey being at the top. It is total trash television but it requires zero thought on my part and I get to observe the culture of rich bratty conflict. It fascinates me.)
Anyway, back to my non-brave life. I was in Lincoln Thursday night shopping for some supplies for the upcoming teacher workdays, and as I was finishing up checking out at Menard’s, the sweet older cashier asked the larger older man (think ‘Grumpy Santa’) behind me if he found everything alright, and he said, “No. Your store is very unfriendly to disabled people. I’ve been walking all over this d*mn store because you don’t offer scooters and I can’t find a d*mn thing. I’ll take my business to Home Depot….” She said something about people usually bringing their own scooters and handed me my receipt. I made a point to look her in the eye and say a commiserating “Thank you” and left.
It’s the same kind of thing when people are rude to the waiter/waitress because the food is bad. It is not their fault – they just brought it to you. Even if the service is bad, be civil. This man probably had a legitimate complaint – he was quite large and with all that walking around – I imagine that his joints were killing him. However, cursing in front of a cashier just made him look stupid and mean. He could have gone to customer service and talked to a manager with rational words and something might actually get done.
Anyway, I got in my truck and felt bad, so I thought I’d be chicken-y brave and say something to him. I pulled up to the exit just as he got out and told him (nicely, because I teach preschool) that I knew he felt crabby, but he just swore at a nice lady who didn’t deserve it.
Big surprise: He said he didn’t swear at her, then told me it was none of my d*mn business, and as we parted ways he called, “And I don’t give a d*mn what you think.”
I had conflict shakes for the next five minutes, but I’m glad I said something.
Pray for them both, will you?