When was the last time you really wanted (or needed) to say something, but kept quiet? Write a post about what you should’ve said.
This is hilarious, ironic, and scary all rolled into one huge, distasteful Sunday brunch muffin here.
This morning I ran to the corner store for a few things, and as I got into my car, reached for the door handle, … BLARE! The startlingly heart-attack inducing sound of a car horn scares the *carp out of me. When I looked, it was just some young pissy-face wanting the space next to me … in an empty lot.
I saw her roll into the lot, too, but … it wasn’t seven seconds that passed, I swear, when she laid on the horn.
I turned to glare at whomever it was, and naturally, the driver kept her eyes lowered while her (no doubt embarrassed) passenger ducked under the dashboard to hide her face. Like always, I’m left to utter all kinds of blue words and hope she has a less than pleasant day.
By the time I reach the corner, the red light that stops me has also helped me to realize how ridiculous I’m behaving, so I utter a weak apology and ask forgiveness for such a useless transgression. The light turns green, but two pedestrians are making their way across the road so I can’t make the right turn. BLART!
Again? I scream, patting my wildly beating chest and glaring in the rear-view this time. He’s clearly agitated, bouncing in place, waving his hands, offering me the bird, his lips moving to what I can only imagine are a symphony of words more colorful than even I had used just moments ago.
This time, though, I start laughing – aloud. I even smile to expose teeth and offer one of them genteel, lady-like Miss America hand waves. “Have a pleasant day, kind sir!” I think to myself as I wait for the two mosey’ers to make it to the other side of the street so I can turn and let Mr. Devil On His Impatient Ass go on his merry way.
There are a ton of things I should have said at a ton of times in my life when some form of injustice occurred. I was never the type to defend myself verbally. I never had a problem defending others that way, though. Still, when it came to me being the victim, I always recoiled, standing dumbfounded by their hateful nature and made to wonder what was it about me that made them think they had a right to treat me the way they did.
It occurred again with the last job I held, and that time I warned myself that those days were over. He ranted, raved, talked down to me, shouted, abused me verbally, etc. and I shot back with whatever I could think of that was mature, rational, and in as calm a tone as I could muster. All to no avail.
When I let him know it had to stop, he told me he didn’t like me, knew it wasn’t going to work with me being there, and that he would rather I just quit … so, I did.
For whatever it’s worth, I salute all those who are able to verbally defend themselves in any unjust situation. I’ve tried to talk about these types of situations with others, too, and all they ever tell me is that the OTHER person had some excuse, that the OTHER person must be suffering, or that the OTHER person must have been in a bad mood.
It didn’t and still doesn’t help, and at my age, being a hermit is the best alternative to dealing with people.