Wednesday 7 September 2011

Confrontation, 2011 Style

Today I made my usual mid-week grocery run to Super Store. I pulled into a snug parking spot and realized I was too close to the car beside me. As I started backing up, I noticed a young couple walking behind me and stopped immediately. The man thumped the back of my car with his fist.

I was a little surprised to see him standing there as I exited my vehicle. Around 5'10" and 140 pounds, he had his wife and 2 small children with him. His little hands were balled into fists and the first words out of his mouth were, "Watch where yer goin', asshole!"

I responded, "I was watching. That's how you didn't get hit by my car. Why are you still here?"

The kid's face was beet red as he snarled, "I oughta kick your ass! That's why!" He wrenched free of his wife as she tried to pull him away. "C'mon Ed, can we just go?" she pleaded. One of his children began to cry. "Shut those goddamned kids up!" snarled Ed.

It was starting to look like this could escalate and 25 or 30 years ago, it may have. But that was then and this was now. I decided to be honest.

"I feel bad for you, I really do. Either way this goes, you lose. Beat up an old guy who then calls the cops, you lose. Get laid out by an old guy who then calls the cops, you still lose."


Ed began to advance, his angry little fists raised. "Let's do this", he growled.

"Ed, that's just stupid. You've been watching too much TV. Nothing's going to happen. Go home. Get some help."

With that, I turned and walked towards the store. I could hear Ed huffing and fuming but just as I thought he would, he'd started herding his family toward their vehicle.

I feel truly sorry for this young man. I keep imagining how badly his life will play out, particularly with the innate anger he carries. Maybe he was just having a bad day and I was the excuse he needed to lash out. I hope that was the case but sadly, I doubt it.

Friday 2 September 2011

"Shoosh"?!?



 I thought I'd I found the perfect post-retirement, part-time job; stocking shelves in a bookstore. I worked Monday through Friday, from 5 a.m. to 9 a.m. This allowed me ample time to make a few bucks while maintaining a fullfilling home life. The job was a little more complex than I'd have thought; oddly challenging but fun. My co-workers were all very nice and for the most part, I fit right in. I had extremely positive responses to my work ethic and while my learning curve didn't feel as sharp as I'd have liked, things were progressing well.


After a year, I encountered a new supervisor who didn't like me. She said as much within a day or two of our meeting. This was a scenario I'd seldom encountered before. Very soon Supervisor Linda was on me about everything task I performed and within a week I began to dread coming to work. I knew instinctively Linda was trying to make me quit and at $10 per hour, my patience was running thin. It dawned on me I wasn't there because I still enjoyed my job. I was there because I couldn't stomach the thought of her "winning"; not a good reason to keep getting out of bed at 4:00 a.m.

One morning Linda asked me why I was doing something a certain way. Midway through my explanation she shoved a stubby index finger in my face and "shooshed" me! I lost it. I'd never before had a derogatory word for Linda but in my mind, she'd stepped over a line. I think my little rant went something like this.

"Are you insane? I'm a 62 year old, grown assed man and you just SHOOSHED me. What're you, 40 something (she's 34)? You've been here, what, 20 years (more like 5)? You've advanced as far as you ever will and really, how pathetic is that? Do you realize the income tax taken off my pension check is more money than you'll ever see in a month? Why would I give a damn what you think or how you feel a task should be done? Seriously, get bent."

By this time the other 3 staff on duty were staring at us, open mothed. Flustered and beet red, Linda mumbled something about my not being allowed to speak to her that way and then, for the first time ever, I quit a job on the spot. It was glorious.

In the end I probably made Linda a very happy little supervisor but I couldn't have cared less. Over 40 years of pent up workplace frustration evaporated in a nano-second. I'd never been so happy with a snap decision in my life and given the circumstances, I wouldn't have changed a thing.