Author’s Note:
The following is based on a true story. Yes, really! Names, places, and other details have been omitted to protect the guilty.
A Word or Two About Being Different
As a kid, I indulged in make-believe much longer than I care to admit. What can I say? I had a vivid imagination! I was a middle child; my parents separated when I was about 10 years old, my eldest brother left home when I was 13, and my parents officially divorced when I was about 15.
Growing up, I had no prospects, no close role models, few friends, and was treated with a mix of indifference and open hostility. So I mostly avoided the harshness of reality by daydreaming, letting my mind explore the fantasy worlds of video games, movies, artwork, and music. But I always understood the difference between fantasy and reality, and I never insisted anyone else play along!
All that to say that I know what it’s like not to belong, and I don’t begrudge people their private thoughts. Where I draw the line is when someone demands that I believe as they do…
A Time and a Place For Everything
“Ain’t nobody got time for that!”
– Sweet Brown, 2012
I go to a grocery store to exchange my money for their goods. I’m there to buy some meat, butter, eggs, maybe some plain Greek yogurt, and whatever the fuck else they have for sale, cheaper than I can get somewhere else… No more, and no less!
I’m not there to discuss or debate politics, sexual orientation, gender, religion, or race relations; In the immortal words of Sweet Brown, “Ain’t nobody got time for that!”
There’s a time and a place for everything, and I don’t think it’s unreasonable to expect to conduct my business without becoming an unwitting participant in someone else’s fetish.
It’s Ma’am!
“An insult is like a drink, it affects one only if accepted.”
– Robert A. Heinlein, Glory Road, 1963
I remember the 2018 meme of the grown-ass man, cosplaying as a ‘Karen’, and throwing a tantrum in the GameStop for allegedly being “misgendered”. My friend Lars once told me, “Offense can’t be given, it can only be taken.” I believe this is a Danish proverb, and I don’t mind old man Bob Heinlein cribbing it. But I do resent the idea of that minimum-wage employee being abused by some mentally ill man LARPing as a woman. I generally try to avoid people and places where I might be exposed to such silly behavior… So you can imagine my surprise (and disappointment) at my own It’s Ma’aming!
After we finished shopping, my wife and I looked for an empty checkout line and a fat, unkempt young urbanite with a large beard waved us over. Normally, these details wouldn’t matter to me, were it not for what would shortly unfold…
You see, Costco doesn’t have plastic bags, but they did have empty cardboard boxes scattered around. I asked if I could use one for my groceries, and the cashier said I could. As he scanned the items, he handed them to me, and I politely and earnestly said, “Thank you very much!”
This seemed to upset the man, and before I understood what was happening, he huffed, “Excuse me!? Did you just call me ‘Man’?” Years of verbal (and sometimes physical) abuse have made me hypersensitive to aggression, and in anticipation of an altercation, my hackles went up, and my fingers curled instinctively into fists. My gaze focused on him, and he was trying to draw attention to a small badge I hadn’t noticed before that read, “She/They.”
I was slow in answering. My mind was still assessing the threat and regulating my composure so as not to make a scene. Then I noticed his ill-fitting T-shirt read, “Strong Black Woman.”
He seemed to notice my agitation, so I said in a slow, even tone, “No. I said, ‘Thank you very much.'” My body language said, in no uncertain terms, “Sonny, Uncle isn’t interested in playing word games with you, so you’d best conclude your business and make yourself scarce.”
I suspect some people crave attention and look for an excuse to go off on some poor, unsuspecting victim. Apologizing rarely helps, and only serves to vindicate their behavior. I acted rightly, I think.
Hypocrite
“What about all of those assholes you yelled at through your doorbell camera? ” I hear you say…
I’d argue it’s a question of roles. The provincial laws that govern me explicitly state that I have a right not to be bothered by either panders or canvassers, and that neither may linger on my property if they have reason to believe they’re not welcome (read: my clearly posted signs, visible from the road).
If someone chooses to ignore both the law and my personal wish not to be disturbed, I may then exercise my right to instruct them to vacate my property, and I don’t have to be polite about it!
This young cashier, on the other hand, was in his place of business, being paid to do a job. He’s expected to behave professionally and courteously at all times, and if he feels that the customer is harassing him, his recourse is to notify his manager. Therein lies the difference!
Epilogue
I’m over it. I suspect this one came in with a number of others brought in from out of state to help with Le Grande Opening, and now that’s all over and done with, we’ll have some regular ass normies running the store (hopefully). All the while, Jim must be looking down from the Heavens, laughing his ass off at my antics… Ah well!