To the Mean, Obnoxious, Bitchy Woman at Target in Jersey City Last Saturday
Friday, April 28, 2006
Ma’am,
There are really a myriad of questions I’d like to ask you. I just don’t understand you. Are you always so mean? Is your hair always so long and untrimmed? Have you thought about getting it cut? Do you have a different tracksuit for every day of the week? Are you always so self-centered? So impatient? If so, I think the first thing you should learn is that the Target Greatland in Jersey City on a very rainy Saturday afternoon is really no place for you.
When you got in line behind me, and I had one water bottle in my hand, I am sorry that you assumed that was all I was buying. I don’t understand how you could, though. Nobody walks into Target and leaves with one lonely, bright pink, hard plastic water bottle. I don’t mean to tell you what to think, but there’s a second lesson in that fact.
When my roommate appeared with our cart of what, admittedly, contained a LOT of cleaning supplies, was it really necessary to loudly exclaim to your husband, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me?” I’m no shrinking violet. I love me the f-word. Frankly, I love it so much that I’m trying to learn to love it a little less. But was it really necessary?
We ignored you. We looked at each other and rolled our eyes. Until, passive-aggressively, you got up in my roommate’s face and rudely said, “Are you together?” We, politely I thought, said we were. Which unleashed a verbal torrent which, I hope and imagine, is something one would only hear in New Jersey. I can’t remember all you said, but I vividly recall the following:
”You’ve GOT to be FUCKING KIDDING ME!”
“This is FUCKING RIDICULOUS!”
(To husband) “Can you FUCKING believe this?”
(To us), “Come on! Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME?”
Now, I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that your anger prevented you from switching up the dialogue too much. But your verbal abuse really pissed me off. Which is why I was so pleased to hear Genoa say, “I really don’t understand what is so ridiculous about this!”
I believe this is what followed:
You: When we got in line, SHE had ONE thing, and that’s what we thought she was buying!
Me: Well, that was your wrong assumption.
You: Then SHE comes over with the cart! This is fucking ridiculous! FUCKING RIDICULOUS!
Me: Well, you’re welcome to go get in another line—there are several checkout lanes here.
You: That’s NOT THE POINT! YOU HAD ONE THING!
Me: Sorry you’re so upset.
When I turned back to my roommate, I was livid. My blood was pulsing and my face was hot and I’d by lying if I said I didn’t want to scream an obscenity (or, if we’re being honest here, a string of them) at you. But, because I try to be a good and decent human being, I held back. Until I heard you hurling yet more obscenities at us, and I turned to you and said, “You know what? I really have no interest in standing here listening to you complain. If it’s so important to you, just GO AHEAD of us. For God’s sake, just go AHEAD.” And we moved out of your way and let you go.
Whereupon you continued your bitching. And that is why I feel no remorse whatsoever—really! Not a drop! For saying the following:
“Look, stop your bitching. You’re ahead of us, you got your way, YOU ARE WELCOME!”
And then loudly saying to my roommate:
”FUCKING NEW JERSEY, RIGHT?”
It also explains why I was positively gleeful when they opened up the checkout line next to us, and we were the first ones served. That, ma’am, is what people mean when they talk about karma. Just so you know.
My best to you and yours,
Miss Peach
There are really a myriad of questions I’d like to ask you. I just don’t understand you. Are you always so mean? Is your hair always so long and untrimmed? Have you thought about getting it cut? Do you have a different tracksuit for every day of the week? Are you always so self-centered? So impatient? If so, I think the first thing you should learn is that the Target Greatland in Jersey City on a very rainy Saturday afternoon is really no place for you.
When you got in line behind me, and I had one water bottle in my hand, I am sorry that you assumed that was all I was buying. I don’t understand how you could, though. Nobody walks into Target and leaves with one lonely, bright pink, hard plastic water bottle. I don’t mean to tell you what to think, but there’s a second lesson in that fact.
When my roommate appeared with our cart of what, admittedly, contained a LOT of cleaning supplies, was it really necessary to loudly exclaim to your husband, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me?” I’m no shrinking violet. I love me the f-word. Frankly, I love it so much that I’m trying to learn to love it a little less. But was it really necessary?
We ignored you. We looked at each other and rolled our eyes. Until, passive-aggressively, you got up in my roommate’s face and rudely said, “Are you together?” We, politely I thought, said we were. Which unleashed a verbal torrent which, I hope and imagine, is something one would only hear in New Jersey. I can’t remember all you said, but I vividly recall the following:
”You’ve GOT to be FUCKING KIDDING ME!”
“This is FUCKING RIDICULOUS!”
(To husband) “Can you FUCKING believe this?”
(To us), “Come on! Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME?”
Now, I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that your anger prevented you from switching up the dialogue too much. But your verbal abuse really pissed me off. Which is why I was so pleased to hear Genoa say, “I really don’t understand what is so ridiculous about this!”
I believe this is what followed:
You: When we got in line, SHE had ONE thing, and that’s what we thought she was buying!
Me: Well, that was your wrong assumption.
You: Then SHE comes over with the cart! This is fucking ridiculous! FUCKING RIDICULOUS!
Me: Well, you’re welcome to go get in another line—there are several checkout lanes here.
You: That’s NOT THE POINT! YOU HAD ONE THING!
Me: Sorry you’re so upset.
When I turned back to my roommate, I was livid. My blood was pulsing and my face was hot and I’d by lying if I said I didn’t want to scream an obscenity (or, if we’re being honest here, a string of them) at you. But, because I try to be a good and decent human being, I held back. Until I heard you hurling yet more obscenities at us, and I turned to you and said, “You know what? I really have no interest in standing here listening to you complain. If it’s so important to you, just GO AHEAD of us. For God’s sake, just go AHEAD.” And we moved out of your way and let you go.
Whereupon you continued your bitching. And that is why I feel no remorse whatsoever—really! Not a drop! For saying the following:
“Look, stop your bitching. You’re ahead of us, you got your way, YOU ARE WELCOME!”
And then loudly saying to my roommate:
”FUCKING NEW JERSEY, RIGHT?”
It also explains why I was positively gleeful when they opened up the checkout line next to us, and we were the first ones served. That, ma’am, is what people mean when they talk about karma. Just so you know.
My best to you and yours,
Miss Peach
This entry was posted
on Friday, April 28, 2006 at 11:40 AM.
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