Misogynist

Misogynist – mi·sog·y·nist  noun – one who hates women, adj. – Of or characterized by a  hatred of women For any of you that aren’t familiar with it, Wegmans is a pretty awesome grocery store. They carry everything from hard to find foods, organic skin care, to a huge selection of gourmet candy, and everything in between. The one closest to me even opened an outdoor café with live music on the weekends and a beer selection to rival any craft beer festival.  It’s always crowded...And I mean wall to wall people crowded, but if you want something special, like black truffles or organic toothpaste, it’s the place to go, just suck it up. My experiences with Wegmans have been less than ideal.  A few months ago a woman hit me with her cart; I turned around and said, “Excuse me, would you mind being a little more careful?” She proceeded to rant and rave about what a bitch I was until I finally asked her if she wanted to step outside and take care of things, because she seemed to have a big mouth, but I doubted she could back it up. I dared her to say one more word...”Listen, I have nothing to lose, so I could care less if I get arrested…please…let me de-stress on your face.”  She vanished among the crowd. Problem solved. Two weeks after the bitchy cart driver incident, I had yet other interesting experience at Wegmans. I had finished my shopping and was walking out of the store to my car when a man yelled something. I ignored him because I didn’t think he could have been talking to me. I mean, I didn’t do anything, so it wasn’t’ me. As I put my (environmentally friendly: P ) bags in my car I noticed that Yells-Alot WAS indeed yelling at me. I walked over to him and asked what was wrong. “You hit my car with your shopping cart!” Well, if I did, wouldn’t I have felt it? In any event, I didn’t feel like getting into it with anyone, so I told him I was sorry and asked if there had been any damage. “It’s not about damage, you bitch, it’s about cunts like you who don’t watch where they’re going.” A sort of switch just flipped in my head. A stream of word vomit came spewing out of my mouth. I don’t’ remember exactly what I said, but it went something like this: “Listen, you fucking asshole, I didn’t touch your precious car, which probably compensates for your tiny cock. And if there was no damage than why did you even mention it? I’ll tell you why. Because you’re a misogynistic asshole who gets off on yelling at people, especially women, so you can feel better about yourself. The only thing that will truly make you feel better about yourself is falling off the face of the earth.” At this point Yells-A lot started to get in his car, without saying a word, but his window was still open. I would not let this go….my ex husband always said I was like a pit bull with a bone. I went over to his window and saw him pick up his phone, like he calling the police probably. “Oh what a big man! Call the fucking police. What are you going to tell them, that you were a douche bag and someone stood up to you? And I’ll be long gone by the time they get here. Why don’t you call your mother instead because she’s the only woman that can probably stand you? Oh, and next time to decide to be an asshole to someone, stop and think. Because I have nothing to lose, I’m on so many meds your head would spin, and if you think I’m crazy now…you have NO idea how fucking crazy I can get.”   Well that was fun, I thought…I went home…didn’t’ really have the stomach for Wegmans again for a long while. But today I was in the mood for Chinese food, and believe it or not, they have great Chinese food.  My mother decides to drive since I was feeling a little dizzy and she’s watching my nephew who just turned 5. All I wanted to go in, get our food, and bring it home to eat. I parked in a handicapped spot, which, I thought, might be good indicator that I have a handicap of some kind.  As I was walking with my nephew, his hand in mine, and my mother,  who has just gotten over radiation for breast cancer, a man drives by in a car and rolls his window down just to say to me, “Why don’t you walk a little faster, you bitch.” I’m generally a nice person. I don’t ask for much. Treat me with kindness and respect and I’ll do the same. But I, admittedly, have anger issues. It seems as though my rubber band mind can only be stretched so far before it snaps. And it’s not pretty. I told my mom to take my nephew into the store and I walked over to (Hmm, let’s call him Fucktard Freddie) F.F. and just flipped. Again, I was so upset that I can’t remember exactly what I said, but it was along of the lines of: “In case you didn’t notice I’m parked in a handicapped spot, so just in case you don’t know what that means…I CAN’T WALK FAST. I’m here with my 5 year old nephew, my mother who is recovering from breast cancer, and I have arthritis in both of my ankles. Oh and I see you’re in a handicapped spot too, I didn’t’ realize that douchebaggery was handicap.   Keep your fucking mouth shut or I WILL shut it for you. Oh yeah, roll up your window and pretend you don’t see me. You’re so brave in your car, but don’t’ want to face me yourself. One more word and will personally fuck up you and your car, you fucking asshole.” This time I was just so tired of running into douchewaffles at Wegmans that I went to speak to the manager, who profusely apologized, bought us lunch, and had security stay at Fucktard Freddie’s car until he got back in and they asked him not to return….and I got to see it all. *Sigh* Sometimes God DOES let you see how karma works.

©Anne. S. Leedy