Yesterday, when I was approached while waiting for the bus by the two very loud young women and asked for a dollar, I said no.
I said no for many reasons.
I said no because I didn’t have a dollar. I didn’t have .50 cents. I didn’t even have two pennies to rub together. Pay day could have come a couple days earlier as far as I’m concerned.
I said no because these girls were dressed better than I was.
I said no because these girls were rude and annoying.
I said no because these girls were in no obvious distress, no perilous situation, and apparently were looking to purchase a pop or candy bar. They didn’t have distended bellies or flies crawling around their eyes.
They stomped off, circled around, stood next to me, and proceeded to have the following loud conversation:
“Yeah, I really need a dollar but this BITCH wouldn’t give it to me.”
I wanted to say a few things to them.
I wanted to tell them that I too wanted to get a snack but since I didn’t have a dollar, I didn’t get it.
I wanted to tell them that I had a family that I love and a job that I hate.
I wanted to tell them that every day when I ride the bus to work I have an overwhelming desire to stay on the bus and just ride and ride and ride and call into work and tell them that I’m dead but since I’m such a responsible employee, I’m calling from the grave to tell them that I won’t be in today.
I wanted to tell them all this. And then I wanted to bury my size 13 knitting needle in their jugulars.
They don’t know the meaning of bitch.