Baltimore City has finally — finally — upgraded its recycling system, introducing the one bin/all materials system used in most Maryland counties. But, this being Baltimore, we had to stand on line this weekend to get the bins.
The good news is that a lot of people in Baltimore want to recycle. I got to one of the distribution centers five minutes before the process was supposed to start, and a long line had already formed. How long? I waited for an hour and fifteen minutes to buy my bins. (Yeah, we have to buy them, too, whereas some suburban counties got the receptacles for free.) But the company was good — lots of conversation about climate change, smart high school students selling coffee and baked goods and massages (!) to finance their eco-mission to Costa Rica — and people were extremely orderly.
One father and his young son did a celebratory dance when they got their bins, as if they had just won the lottery. That was Gallant.
Then there was Goofus, the father who slimed up to the man just ahead of me, when we were about five mintues from the head of the line. “Hey, Uncle W–,” he said, although the man was evidently a neighbor, not a relative. “Can I just horn in here?”
His neighbor was clearly uncomfortable. It wasn’t just that people had been waiting in the cold for over an hour; they city had run out of smaller bins already and, despite assurances, looked to be at risk of running out of the large ones. (Bureacratic line of the day, when the small bins were no longer available: “We have plenty of small bins,” announced a city official. “We just ran out.”)
“Do you think that’s really fair?” I asked the man. “So many people have been waiting for so long.” This didn’t seem to faze him. “Do you think you’re setting a good example?” I pressed, glancing at his young daughter.
Others said similar things, but he was a man beyond shaming. He even said. “So it’s not an ethical issue,” when we indicated that two people behind his neighbor were buying bins for friends, but that was an arrangement made before the line had formed.
The man left for a moment to go to his car, leaving his daughter behind. “I feel very awkward,” his neighbor said, and those of us nearby assured him that he had been put into an impossible position. We were careful in our rhetoric, as veiled as possible, but I think the girl knew that the people in line were not fans of her father.
Stories of attempted interventions in public spheres, please, after the jump. And to the man who jumped line: You looked incredibly stupid in that hat.
Sounds like a Larry David moment. The line at Poly was incredibly long. Unbelievable traffic back-up all the way up Cold Spring to the Roland intersection. Wish I’d been selling hot chocolate and coffee, I’d have cleaned up. You’re right, it’s great that recycling motivates people so. Maybe next time they can harness all that energy and put it toward an additional cause…have a special express line for those who bring food for the soup kitchen or a coat for somebody who needs one.
First time commenter. I own and run a small shoe/accessory store and never leave it so my stories aren’t really in the public sphere. But I try to counter rudeness, thoughtlessness and entitlement w/my own funny, hopefully loving rudeness. And most of my customers are wonderful, funny and kind.
Here goes:
I was helping these two ladies at the store and I could hear Scot and Little Darren, the two tattoo artists in the shop attached to my store, talking through the open door.
”So I said, ”Fuck! I’ll cook the chicken w/no fucking foil if we don’t fucking have it…..”
The ladies looked kind of wincey and I joked, ”You have to excuse them. It’s a tattoo parlor and they are monitored by the union. If they don’t swear every half hour they get big fines.”
The ladies laughed and I offered to shut the door. Scot heard me and said, ”Don’t be shutting doors here! What did we do? We didn’t say anything.” and I pointed out they were swearing.
”We didn’t use any profanity!”
The one lady got all haughty and said, ”You used the F-word at least 4 times!”
Scot was shocked. “I DID?!”
So it’s possible to swear so much you don’t even know you are swearing. Interesting.
I know I swear more since I’m around the boys all day. My husband said, ”Jeez Kim! You’re starting to sound like a pirate!”
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I was grouchy this day to start with and attitude plus, pretty, hip chick has been playing grande dame ordering me around which I normally don’t mind, especially if they are buying a lot but I reached my breaking point. She snots, ‘You USED to carry really good sunglass frames.’
Me: ‘Yeah, I thought I’d try just carrying fucked up shit and see how that worked out.’
She stares blankly. Tries again:…… ‘ Well, you USED to..’
Me ‘Weve gone downhill.”
She glares at me ala ‘I AM REPORTING YOU TO THE MANAGEMENT!’
Me: ‘Are we having a stare down contest? Because I’ll tell you right now, I’ll win. I don’t have anything else to do and no other customers’
Girl:”WELL, I DO! I HAVE THINGS TO DO!”
She stamps out. Looks over her shoulder in disbelief at the store after she crosses the street.
14 dollars or the satisfaction of saying that? No contest.
Darren next door: ‘You pretty much just make money out of the ones you scare and drop their wallets when they run away then huh?’
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One of those scammy guys selling crap for ”fundraising” came in the store.
‘I’m from a group sponsored by/the local high schools. We’re working on preventing teen pregnancies by promoting abstinence. if you make a donation, you get one of these beautiful prints.’ He shows me a hideous dolphin hologram.
I said sorry, I don’t believe in that.
He asked what I did believe in. REMEMBER, HE ASKED.
‘I think you are young, your bodies are made for sex. You are full of impulses and hormones. Fuck all you want, just use birth control or do other stuff.’
‘HUH?’
‘Abstinence makes no sense. What about gay teens? They can bonk as much as they want and not worry about pregnancy. Sex isn’t just penis in a vagina. You can have oral or anal sex. Or use contraceptives.’Disgusted, thinned lips..’well..thank you Ma’am.’
‘Go out and have fun. You’re young. Just be safe.”
He left.
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I’m loquacious today. Sorry. The Man kept mr down so long and I have so much to say.
One last story but I’m the entitled asshole behaving badly in this one.
It gets my goat when adult strangers yell at other adults in a reprimanding way.
My friend Sally, my husband Kevin, the dogs and I cut through a field and we were walking NEXT to the lot where SIU holds these motorcycle safety classes and these grown men started yelling ”GET OFF THE BLACKTOP! YOU CAN’T WALK HERE! IT’S THE TRAINING COURSE!”
We were on the grass.
I yelled back (much to Kevin’s chagrin) ”WE’RE ON THE GRASS, BRAINTRUST”
The instructor yells, ”YOU AREN’T SUPPOSED TO BE HERE UNLESS YOU ARE IN MY CLASS!”
And I yelled, ”SO NOW YOU ARE CHANGING THE RULES TO COVER ANYTHING YOU DON’T LIKE?”
And he yelled, ”I’M REPORTING YOU!”
And I yelled, ”THAT WILL BE EXCITING, I BET! YOU SEEM TO LOVE BOSSING PEOPLE AND TATTLING WILL BE A THRILL”
Then I stood at the edge of the lot and kept acting like I was going to put my tip toe on the blacktop until I noticed Kevin and sally and the dogs had ditched me and cut through the bushes in shame at my childishness.
But it still was fun!
Kim, Kim, Kim, you are hilarious. I wish I could belt them out like that!!! I really like the second story.
Kim you are TOO funny – I wish I could get away with ANY of that (but since I work in a bank I would be unemployed in a second if I tried). Can I live vicariously through you?
Laura -
At least we didn’t have that happen at the post office today, I think there may have been bodily harm involved if it had. Luckily we had a very nice group of people in line and my section enjoyed chatting and admiring my knitting (hey if I have to stand in line half an hour to mail a box that has NOTHING to do with any flippin holiday I might as well make use of my time). Too bad there weren’t people selling massages though – I might have bought one!
Kim, those stories are priceless. Which means, when I steal them for a future work of fiction, no court will be able to assess damages. <g> More seriously, I hope your stories will remind everyone to be kind this holiday season.
And welcome to Fern, another first-time poster, although one I know well. As it happens, I chose to go to Poly (Polytechnic High School) to pick up my bins, indulging in some North Baltimore nostalgia. The thing that amused me is that I was on the verge of making some lovey-dovey generalization about those who are amped for recycling, but Mr. Goofus reminded me not to feel so smug.
My household has a more successful story from Mardi Gras, pre-hurricane. It was the day after, aka Lent, and we were in line to catch a 6 a.m. (ouch) flight home. The line was quite long, and there had been a delay on one of the drawbridge routes to the airport, so tensions were high. The line to check in snaked at least 50 yards past the point where the crowd-control devices ended. We were just beyond the post, behind a husband and wife, when a man walked up and inserted himself into the line.
Credit the woman in front of us: She wasn’t going to take it. She told him that he couldn’t butt in line that way, and he said, “It’s not my fault it’s Mardi Gras.” (His logic seemed to be that he was a local on a non-holiday related mission, and shouldn’t have to endure this.) She went to find a security guard. Meanwhile, my SO said, “You’re not standing front of us,” and moved all us and out suitcases in front of the man. He then turned to the others behind us. “Who else wants to come up here?” But everyone else seemed terrified. The line continued to move, the interloper calm and smug.
Then — when he was one person away from being called to the counter — security finally surfaced and forced him to go to the end of the line.
Later, I saw him on the other side of security, so he did make his flight, I’m sorry to say. But it was a nice “teachable moment” for the then-11-year-old traveling with us. No cursing, no ad hominen attacks, just a simple assertion of rights.
That said, how often do we not speak up out of fear? I almost followed a man into a restaurant earlier this week, to castigate him for throwing his cigarette butt on the sidewalk, but decided I was a) possibly PMSing and b) risking a punch in the face.
I was in line at a fast food joint (and in a hurry, of course). the lady in front of me was trying to use a handful of coupons. The counter person pointed out that the coupons all said “one per customer per visit.” This lady said, and I am not making this up, that she was entitled to use three becuase she was also getting food for her husband and her daughter who were at home sick, so it wasn’t just one customer, it was three. The counter person said no, one customer meant one customer. The lady demanded to talk to the manager. The manager came out and said the same thing, only one coupon per customer per visit. The lady then demanded the use of a phone and the number of the District manager so she could take her case to them. By this time, of course, the line’s backing up. The lady turns to me and says in a self righteous tone, “I’m not the one being unreasonable here!” I said, “Well, yeah, as a matter of fact, you are. Now will you please back off so the rest of us can eat?” She just stared at me for a moment, then turned back, got her food and left, muttering to herself.
She only got to use the one coupon.
Rebecca, I have a friend who would argue fiercely that the current sense of entitlement and dongishness comes not from modern, alienating technology but from self-esteem based education.
And he’ll argue to the point you buy him a big plate of chicken fingers or some other child’s menu food he eats to shut him up.
Thanks everyone for not telling me to stop talking so much.
”That said, how often do we not speak up out of fear?”
Sure, fear of a punch in the nose or worse but also fear of being branded a crazy lady or that person who takes pride in making shame-shame at other people, Barney Fife ‘citizen’s arrest! citizen’s arrest!’ glee.
I think of the times when I’ve been publicly reprimanded and didn’t deserve it. (Though there have been plenty of times I did and either no one saw or no one cared.)
My dog was peeing on the grass and an older lady turned and inquired if I wasn’t going to pick that up? I guess her eyesight wasn’t that hot and I had to explain that you can’t really pick up pee.
Sometimes I don’t bother to speak up to doofuses not out of fear so much as ‘what’s the use?”, it’s a losing battle.
I no longer open my shop door to tell people it’s disgusting when they spit on the sidewalk as they wait for the bus or walk by. I no longer suggest if they have that much excess saliva they may want to see a doctor.
I still do wish my secret power was to magically reverse the spitting process and make that glob fly right back into their face though.
Oh, my wretched memory, but wasn’t there a New York magazine piece about children refusing to take risks because they were praised all the time? (Yes, there was: http://nymag.com/news/features/27840/)
I’m very torn because what I see, anecdotally, is that my friends are good parents. Their kids are smart and interesting AND have lovely manners. So is it technology? Self-esteem? Or just the fact that more and more of us are crowded into the spaces we share?
But I’ll shut up for a plate of mozzarella sticks.
well, I think we are in a society now where some people have come to believe that they are just so much more important than others and their time is much more valuable. Also that their behavior is beyond reproach(didn’t we have the talking/cell phones in movies discussion here?). I rarely say anything to anyone about their behavior except inside stores where people will pretend they don’t notice the long line that then feeds into three separate cash registers. I politely say “excuse me, but this line is for all registers”. The clerks should do it but either they don’t notice or have taken too much guff already from rude customers.
Kim, I love your stories- I work for the government and get attitude from people to whom I give money!- LOTS OF MONEY. As I am moving towards retirement(and have no fear of being fired), I occasionally do tell people who want our large sums of money – but don’t like the rules for getting it- that there is no law requiring them to apply for or accept our funds(that is considered pretty wild commentary in my office). Lest you think I am cruel to needy people- my grantees are high-level researchers.
Lots of folks today, of all ages, have been toughened (is that the right word?) by sitting in their homes watching BAD television (NOT The Wire!), hiding out in their homes, talking by computer, texting by cellphone, and just generally learning they can do anything they want cause nobody can see them. THEN they get out in public, and the lessons I HOPE their parents once taught them, get tossed out the window because of THEIR RIGHTs.
Well my dad taught me this: My rights (and by extension, other people’s rights) stop where the other fellow’s personal space begins. When someone shoves into my own personal space it makes me VERY uncomfortable. But if some folks want to be boors, they can go ahead and do it. However, remember this: God has much better “revenge” than we ever could.
Case in point, sort of. I was driving on Interstate 95 here in South Florida, moving along at 70, the speed limit, when in my rear view mirror, and in my ears, I heard and saw this guy in a convertable, about my age (Lord help him!) flying along in and out of traffic at I’d say a good 95 or 100 mph. In rush hour traffic. Most of us just kinda got out of his way and I in particular prayed for a little justice here, Lord.
I got it.
About three miles down the highway, over to the right, he had been pulled over by:
A Cruiser
A Cop on a cycle
And a Florida HP Officer…
They had him surrounded, leaning against the car, handcuffed.
As I drove by, I pumped my fist and shouted, YEA! My windows were down cause it was a beautiful day, and since one of the cops heard me, SHE turned around and grinned. And pumped her fist back at me!
Ah, justice…it flows down right when you need it.
There is nothing like working retail at this time of year. Did it for four years, which is like 21 in human years.
We were at some carnival/festival thing, where it was hot and very crowded…my least preferred place to be, but we were hungry and patiently standing in line to get something to eat when a two very young males cut in line in front of us. I looked at my husband. He said nothing. I looked at the people ahead of me, they said nothing. People behind me were grumbling, but quietly. So, I leaned forward and said, “excuse me, but we’ve been standing here for a half an hour and you haven’t, so you need to go to the end of the line.” They looked at me. I looked back. (I’m 5’2″ on a good day). And they moved to the end of the line, or at least from out in front of us.
I was thanked by others in line, but I did it because I hate to be chumped.
I used to manage a bagel/coffee shop, don’t even talk to me about line-cutters. I’m the one people would look at when some idiot starts butting in the front of the line. Like I’m his mother who taught him that was appropriate behavior?
And the coupon arguments, yeah, those are fun. Don’t give me your expired coupons, or try to use one on two for one day and think I’m going to just give it to you because of some antiquated notion that the customer is always right. Oh, and I have noticed that you always target my new employees to spout your venom on too, so don’t think you’re getting away with that either.
That’s not even taking into account the scam artists. They are a completely different nightmare.
Um, sorry, I’ve been contemplating having to re-enter the retail world and it has me a little, grumpy.
Anyone else thinking of Fast Times at Ridgment High, when Brad doesn’t move quickly enough to placate the customer who wants a refund on his guaranteed breakfast?
“Mister, if you don’t shut up, I’m going to kick 100 percent of your ass!”
Someone close to me has had a long career in retail, and Clerks is one of her favorite movies.
I once had a regular customer call me over because he had gotten something a little different than his usual breakfast and the price was different. This upset him greatly, until I pointed out that the new price was a penny less than what he usually paid. The idiot was so used to his ‘routine’ that he hadn’t even paid attention to what the cashier had told him he owed. Or, you know, the fact that he had ordered something different. Apparently, everything he ordered was supposed to cost the same. I admit it, I yelled a little. He was a lawyer, he could take it.
How did Ridgemont end up Ridgment? (Please don’t say, “Because you’re an idiot.”)
It was typed pre-caffeine.
Congratulations! What the Dead Know is one of People’s best books. (They said, “You don’t have to love mysteries to be spellbound by Lippman’s psychologically complex narrative about a woman claiming to be one of two sisters who disappeared from a shopping mall 30 years ago.”)
So now Laura finds out which people she knows have subscriptions to PEOPLE magazine, it seems. (For years and years, decades even, I confess. It keeps me current with culchah! Yes! That’s it!)
Congrats, Laura. Warmed the cockles of my heart to see WHAT THE DEAD KNOW on the list as one of the top ten books of 2007.