I bumped into someone on the street earlier today, because I was walking like a moron and talking on the phone. I put away my phone and apologized to the 30-something, very tall man whom I turned into.
He gave me an utter look of disgust and kept walking. I said more loudly to his back, “I said I’m sorry!”
He turned around to curse me angrily.
Did I deserve that? Was a “Fuck you, bitch” really necessary?
It made me feel terrible. Even worse, somehow, than I was already feeling. I had a catastrophic meltdown over my homeless, nomadic, wildly indebted current situation this morning. Then I showed up to a 1:45 doctors appointment at 1:42. At the wrong location. Which is why I was on the phone, apologizing for being late and rushing to the right location.
You never know what people are going through, folks. That’s such a trite, bumper sticker sort of message, but it’s true.
And call me a prude, but despite what anyone’s going through any given day, they probably don’t deserve to be talked to like that.
Unless, of course, they’ve just run a stop sign and nearly ran over your dog…
Recovering journalist who discovered a life outside of news leaves you time for things like getting angry, cooking and traveling. Plus, hopefully, writing. I’m a wife, dog mom and Washingtonian.