Okay, I had an encounter with the arrogant, scornful, self-important, high and mighty, swollen-headed jerk. The first person in line had momentarily left, so that left just me in the room, awaiting my turn. Then he walks in.
"Is that yours in there, or is that someone else's?" were his first-ever words to me.
"No, somebody else's," I said.
"That's no good," I thought I heard him mumble. He leaves his stuff on the counter and leaves the room.
Well, excuse me. Sorry if I was in line before you. Should I have consulted with you first? Deepest regrets that I'm not on your roadmap to greatness. In sackcloth and ashes that I'm not cute and have breasts. Humblest apologies about my being born. Here, why don't you just go ahead of me, walk all over me, and then, maybe as a favour to you, I'll kill myself—outside of course, I wouldn't want to make you feel queasy or anything.
How would you like me to run a marathon on a hot day and then pick you up by your nose with my armpit, you jerk?
The Art Of Suffering Successfully
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3 comments:
I don't know. That didn't sound too bad. I think you are oversensitive. If someone asked me if something was mine while I was in line at the cash register, I would not consider that person to be a jerk.
The person was not a stranger. And it's not a lineup to pay for something. It was a lineup to heat up food in the microwave oven.
Now you see, if you had put more useful info into the blog entry, I wouldn't have had to guess what all the huffing was about.
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