Bitch

Dear Bitch in Wendy’s:

I’m not writing this because you pulled out in front of me with your big-ass cadilac SUV only to slam on your brakes to turn into Wendy’s which, unfortunately, was where I was also headed.  I’m not writing it because you blocked my egress as you had to pull in and out of the parking spot three times before you were satisfied that hunk of expensive junk was between the lines.

I’m writing because I hate rude people and your behavior needs addressed.  So the clerk behind the counter had to ask you twice on how you wanted one of your four hamburgers – did that give you the right to say “This is why you work in fast food, you’d never keep a job anywhere else” to the poor girl? How the hell do you know why she works fast food?

Maybe she is working her way through college and likes the flexible schedule fast food offers.  Maybe she has a good-for-nothing husband at home who sits with his hand in his pants watching tv all damn day so this is the only way to put food on the table regularly.  Maybe this is her second job and she works as a nurse too.  Maybe she likes the atmosphere of the fast food joint which has long been an American icon.  Maybe her mother told her she’d never amount to any good and she is struggling to rise above such nonsense.

Maybe you’d prefer she stay at home and collect welfare? Maybe she is one step away from that but to keep her self-respect and dignity she chooses instead to make minimum wage at a fast food place.  Maybe she is the victim of abuse who can barely get out of bed to face another day.  Maybe she is a runaway trying to make a life for herself.

Whatever the case, your rude ass had no right to say that to her.  Did you see her redden? Did you see the look of pain flash across her face as she tried to maintain her smile? Did that give you a sense of accomplishment or give your ego a little boost?

Tell me, bitch, who would be there to give you your food if this girl didn’t work there? Why are you, with your 1 carat diamond ring, eating at Wendy’s anyway? Obviously you think you are above the people who make your food and serve it with a smile.  Why aren’t you over at the steakhouse? I hate people like you.

I know you wanted to smack me when you turned to me and said “Can you believe this shit?” and I said “No, I can’t believe anyone could be as rude as you.”  I thought you were going to fall apart – I really did.  You expected a conspirator and got a slap upside your head instead.  I almost hoped you would hit me because then I’d own you but you refrained and I know I shifted uncomfortably because I’m really not the confrontational type.

You were probably trying to come back with some smart comment but I walked around you to the counter so what could you say? I’m sure it ate at you.  I want you to know that your husband, who you had your back to, gave me the biggest smile I bet he has smiled in years.  He obviously surrendered his soul to satan when he married you.

I forced myself to eat in the restaurant even though my stomach was so upset at that time that I wanted nothing more than to run home.  I admit I am not a strong person.  I rarely stand up for myself or push for the things I want.  I prefer the cowards way like writing this post.  I couldn’t eat the food I ordered – I choked down a few fries but brought the hamburger home to the dogs.

I also am not a good or kind person.  You were a horrible bitch but I don’t delude myself that I am so much better – I know I am bitch too – my friends and family can back me up on that for sure.  I try to be a good person but I fail and I know it.  But I am not an unnecessarily cruel person either – I don’t kick others around just for the joy of doing so.

I’d say I feel sorry for you that you’re deluded enough to believe you are somehow so entitled…but I don’t.  I loathe people like you – even though I’m sure I could make excuses for your behavior (she is the product of a spoiled upbringing).  I’m sure your treatment of that girl was not a one time incident – I imagine you treat most people that way so I can’t even say maybe you were having a bad day.

Whatever the deal – I’m glad I’m home and you are no longer a part of my otherwise relaxingly, productive day.

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