Guy-Who-Called-Me-a-Bitch-at-the-7-11

Dear Guy-who-called-me-a-bitch-at-the-7-11,

I know how it is.  You came into the 7-11 passing out flyers to the guys who worked there.  That's your job - to go around to the local businesses and pass out flyers.  It's difficult because sometimes you'll be told to get the fuck out and other times you'll find yourself with a job interview for assistant manager for the next day.  It's the holiday season, and that's just a crazy-busy time in retail.  When I used to work as an assistant manager in retail, the hours felt longer and more strenuous than a tax accountant in April.  And there were no rewards.  The discount never added up to much and I didn't need that much of our product in my house (I often found myself returning the items I had purchased, just the night before).  But I never called a customer an asshole or a bitch to their face.  No way!  Just not necessary. 

So today, when I, a lowly temp in a job that has gone from being a very interesting and engaging one, to one with little hope or sense of self-dignity, had worked on a project for the CEO of the company, pulling data and compiling a report, under pressure, I was thrilled!  My day was looking up - way up!  I called my husband on the short walk from the lobby to the 7-11 (I wanted a soda and a bag of cheez-its, but didn't have enough extra change for the vending machine) to tell him about the hard work I had done all morning (and much of the afternoon) and how great I was feeling and did he still want to meet to check out the Christmas tree lighting on the Commons.  I was chatting away and he was listening, patiently, and when I got to the register, I said, "hang on, I'm going to pay for my soda."  I put the phone on the counter as I fished for my wallet in my purse.  And that's when you said, "how long have you had that phone?"  I was so confused!  All I wanted to do was pay for my soda and get back on the horn with my husband, who rarely sees me, let alone talks with me, when I'm this excited about work.  Plus, I hate my phone.  It reminds me of all the evil and badness of who I genuinely am (more on that later) that I have this awful, hard-to-use phone.  So I looked at you and said, "huh?  Umm, did I do something to you?  I just want to pay for my pepsi and leave?"  That's when you handed my cashier a flyer and then said to me, "bitch."  So I called you on it.  I said, "did you just call me a bitch?"  And you said, "yes," and walked out the door. 

First let me just say that if you are going to call someone you don't know a not-nice name, at least have the decency to stick around when they call you on it.  You're clearly strong enough to use such language - don't think you're the only one in the world entitled to be an asshole.  We all are assholes!  But don't walk out.  Just calmly explain yourself as to why you called that person by that not-nice name.  You would have wished you were dead if you had stuck around and listened to me question you on your use of the word and why your question about how long I've had my phone was so hurtful, so scornful, so rude, so heart-wrenching, that I damn well wish I had burst into flames in that moment.  So own your language and if you're going to call someone a bad name, stand by it, and take what they say too. 

Second let me just say that you are beyond rude.  Yesterday, some guy cut me in line at the liquor store.  Here you are, working for a well-known retail company, during the holiday season and I'm in line trying to buy a soda at the 7-11 before I have to return to my demoralizing job, and you not only cut me to give the cashier a flyer, but then you call me a bitch?  Have some courtesy and just wait your turn before giving the flyer.  You're a cutter and you swear. 

Third let me just say that my phone, as I mentioned above, stands for all that I hate about myself.  Why do I have such a phone and why do I let myself be ruled by such an object?  Well, first it's really because I loved my old phone but I can't afford the new model (it's $10 more a month for a service I don't...and never have....used).  So, that always reminds me that despite my well-credentialed education and my varied job experience and being the only one affected by the economy out of my group (and my husband's group) of friends, I can't even afford the phone that I really like.  The other aspect is the reason I don't have my old phone anymore is because I smashed it to smithereens.  I told all my friends and my family that I stepped on it by accident in the morning after drinking a lot the night before.  That's not what happened.  I got into a huge fight (over nothing) with my husband and when I wanted to walk away (a new technique for me - one that he and my therapist have asked me to employ multiple times), he almost physically barred me from leaving the house to buy a pack of cigarettes.  When his back was turned, I took my phone, snapped it in half and then stomped multiple times on both parts of the phone.  A tantrum, maybe.  Common behavior for me, definitely.  I'm an awful woman to be around regularly.  My friends and my husband and my dad think I'm self-centered.  I spend my entire day just trying to make decisions that I think are true to me, but really are ones so that they either don't get mad or don't tell me how disappointed they are in me.  I hate my life so much because I honestly think the only decisions I've ever made for myself are a) deciding to play the clarinet in 5th grade, and b) picking out my wedding dress.  I think both those things disappointed people in my life (and maybe continue to do so), but they are genuinely the two things that I do not care about at all.  I LOVED playing the clarinet.  I LOVED my wedding dress.  And I did them well - I was an outstanding clarinetist.  And I looked, not only like myself, but exactly how I envisioned myself, on my wedding day.  Point being?  I destroyed that phone as a release of my anger.  But all it did instead was attach itself to my heart and remind me, every time I look at my current phone, of what I lost that day I broke my old one. 

Fourth let me just say that there are so many better not-nice names than bitch!  Get smarter and use a more biting name if you want it to sting. 

Fifth let me just say that I haven't decided whether or not I'll be speaking with the manager at the Verizon Wireless store tomorrow on my lunch break.  I guess I'll see how I feel around noon and whether or not I had as good a day as I did today - until you called me a bitch when I was buying cheez-its at the 7-11. 

So long,
Agnes

Guy-Who-Cut-Me-In-Line-At-the-Liquor-Store

Dear Guy-who-cut-me-in-line-at-the-liquor-store,

I can't believe you cut me in line today!  Are we in second grade again, except, instead of chocolate milk, it's booze?  There was clearly one line at register 3 and then register 1 opened up.  The checkout girl clearly said, "I'll help the next person in line."  Umm...that was...ME!  Then you're hemming and hawing over which nips to buy (nice choice, by the way, on the $6 patron one, you know a bottle is only $39, right?) and which cigarettes to pick up (I'm a fan of the menthol too, but why someone needs two packs of two different kinds of butts is beyond me).  In the meantime, the person behind me in the original line was leaving the store and my cheap bottle of merlot wasn't even scanned yet! 

See, I had one of those days.  It's the first day of December, which is my favorite month of the year.  Since I live in Massachusetts, it's not too cold yet, but still chilly.  Christmas trees are up and I get the chance to look at all those ornaments that remind me only of happy times - amazingly sad memories fade around ornaments.  The ones that broke aren't remembered, but the ones that survived, are treasured!  But enough about the ornaments.  I had a boring day at work...not a quiet day, just a boring one...and I was thrilled to leave around 5:30 (I'm a temp - glamorous, I know.  You're probably an accountant for a big four firm or a sophomore English teacher, right?).  Anyway, I was meeting my best friend for dinner and I got to the restaurant before her and the hostess was incompetent.  After waiting for my friend to arrive, waiting for the hostess to seat us, and then waiting for the server to actually take our orders, she and I tried to cram four months of girl-talk into a hour-and-a-half dinner.  For two wordy ladies, it was fun, but just not enough time.  So, she goes back to the office and I go to the T.  The first train passing doesn't take passengers, the second one is jam-packed (at 8:30 at night?!).  I ride the train home and begin the trek in the rain.  As I cross the four-way-stop-sign intersection, I almost get hit by two cars.  I had to swat my umbrella at one of them!  I felt so invisible.  Then some douche bag is yelling at me, "hey honey, did you almost get hit by a car?  Is that why you threw your umbrella?"  I almost yelled out, "damn straight, you fucking cunt," but decided against it, since if he had a gun and decided to use it, he probably wouldn't kill me instantly and instead I'd suffer (which would suck).  That brings me to the liquor store across the street from the gym, which is also across the street from my home....where YOU CUT ME IN LINE! 

And now I'm sitting on my couch, having a glass of my wine, thinking about all the characters of the day, and I picked you to write to.  So let me say this: 

1.  Don't cut in line - it's not nice. 
2.  Don't try to push someone's buttons when it's cold outside, but someone is sweating and has a red face (that's usually a sign of fear, alcoholism, or both). 
3.  Don't take more than 60 seconds to pick out nips that are near the register - if you need more time, go to that section of the store and browse. 

1.  Do continue to take pride in your selections - it makes us proud of ourselves. 
2.  Do stop talking when a girl says, "stop talking to me." 
3.  Do consider why people are in line at the liquor store at 9 PM on a Wednesday night. 

So long,
Agnes