Monday Morning Outing

This morning, the kids and I went out to buy some coffee and a shower curtain.

We were having a typical outing. Joe was getting a little fussy, and I was trying to keep Finley from making him fussier. We had browsed through most of Kmart, checked the clearance rack, and were waiting in the only line open to check out.

The man in front of me was at the register, and had given the cashier a card to pay with. The cashier handed it back, saying he couldn't accept a card that wasn't his.
'This is my wife's card. It's my bank account. My money. Call the manager. I'll just have to hold the line up,' he says.
I can tolerate a jerk. Being a veteran cashier myself, I was just feeling sorry for this one and was prepared to wait patiently for the matter to be resolved. Until...

The man kept complaining, and in doing so, used some foul words.
Instantly, the mama bear inside me rose up.
'Don't talk like that in front of my kids,' I said.

I suppose I could have said it more politely, but I really don't think it would have made much difference. He now turned toward me and using more expletives, started in about his right to free speech. (I love how ignorant people have no idea what the Bill of Rights is really about.) I then told him he should know better than to try to use someone else's card anyway, which provoked him even further, and I don't remember much of what he said after that. (Though I do remember him calling me a crack head.) My adrenaline was rushing by this point, and I was trying to think of a way to provoke him far enough to give me an excuse to call the police and get his arse thrown in jail.

That's when another store associated came and asked the rest of us waiting to check at the customer service desk. I have to admit, I was disappointed.

Everyone chattered about what a shame it was for people to act like he was acting, I bought my shower curtains, and we left the store. Minutes later, as I was buckling the kids in, the man left the store, purchase in hand. More disappointment. I couldn't believe they let him get away with using his wife's card. She probably worked hard all day for her money (he apparently didn't), and had a separate checking account. And guess what he bought: a gun.

As I drove home, the anger was getting the best of me, and I had a Dr. Phil moment. I should feel sorry for the guy. He probably got beat up by a little girl as kid. Or maybe his privates are extraordinarily small, and he feels the need to bully others to compensate for that. Who knows. But I don't feel sorry for him. (I know, the Lord is just going to have to work with me on that one.) But I do feel sorry for the poor woman that married him.