February 21, 2012 by jooshanoosh
Once, while I was working at Pier 1 in New York, a man came to the counter to purchase a candle. I loved the candle he was buying and gave it a farewell sniff to send it off into the world. I told the man, “I love the smell of this candle.” and I smiled.
He, in turn, looked at me and asked, “Do you have one your nose hasn’t been all over?”
We stood for a moment regarding one and other, me wondering if he was serious and he wondering why I wasn’t moving. “Sure.” I quipped finally, and took his filthy, snot covered candle back to the shelf, pick up another and returned to the man. I did not wish this candle luck, rather, I suffocated it with tissue paper and shoved it in a bag and sent them both on their way with out another word. Though I was bothered, I could not help be jealous of the man who got to say the mean thing to a person who, he knew, had no choice but to take it.
I did dabble in meanness while living in New York, but it it was mainly for the tourists. My friend Katie and I were walking down 34th street and this cab came barreling into our cross walk and slammed on it’s breaks. Well, everyone knows you can always be mean to cabs, but never more so then when they are in the wrong. So Kaite swung her purse down on the hood of the cab like Thor’s Hammer and screamed, “Slow Down, Expletive*!” and we kept walking. I may have tossed over my shoulder a “Yeah!” like a side kick greaser in some 50’s show, you know, the one who was always wearing 3-D glasses so they always called him 3-D. He was never the mean one, and in my blog post about a time I was mean, this was the best I could come up with. It’s not even my mean story, it’s Kaite’s. And anyone who knows Katie knows, she’s plenty mean. Also, in an unconnected thought, she does not read blogs.
I don’t want to be meaner to my wife or daughter, or my friends, just to strangers who deserve it.
Once, when my sister-in-law was pregnant she asked her husband (my brother) and me to go get her a McShamrock Shake from McDonald’s (is that what they are called?) She was pregnant and neither my brother or I are mean so, of course, we went. We ended up ordering ourselves some food and more food for the pregnant lady at home and headed back on our way. When we pulled into his driveway we realized they had forgotten the McClover Shake! Oh man, it was on! Speeding back to drive thru we let loose a barrage of ‘How do you dos’ and ‘What fors’. Each of us upping the ante and then encouraging the other to ‘Really Do it!’
“Don’t back down.”
“No, I won’t, why would I? It’s her fault!” Most of our ammo was aimed at the 14 year old manning the drive-up window.
“It IS her fault! Who knows what she was doing back there?! I mean, it’s just a shake it’s not surgery!”
“I’m gonna say that!”
“You should! It’s NOT surgery! Also you should get that shake for free!”
“I should! Wait, we’ve paid for it.”
“That doesn’t matter! Give her the card and make her put that McLucky Shake back on the card! We got time! Heaven knows she thinks we’ve got all the time in the world to be driving back and forth for McLeprechaun Legs Shake’s!”
“We DON’T have all the time in the world!”
“WE DO NOT!”
“I’ve got a pregnant wife at home who could go in to labor at any moment and I’ll be sitting in line AGAIN waiting to get my bleeding green shake!”
“Tell her that! You gotta say it! You gotta tell her off!”
“I’m going to!”
“Good she deserves it!”
“Well, she gonna get it!”
We pull up to the window and my brothers greeting was very forceful.
“HELLO! I was just here and I ordered some food and a McBlarney Stone Shake.”
“Well, you forgot the shake.”
“Oh, hang on…yeah it’s right here, you can pull forward.”
We pulled up to the window and the girl apologized, and now that we were face to face with her and we now had the shake, we responded it was no problem, (I was responding from the passenger side seat, just like 3-D would) and headed off on our way. We drove in silence for a bit, then my brother told me, “I just can’t be mean to people.”
“No, me neither.”
“I mean, she just a 12 year old kid working at a drive through.”
“I know, and what, she forgot a shake? It’s not like she screwed up a surgery.”
“I know, right? We live, like three minutes away. It’s no big deal.”
“One time this guy at my work got all bent out of shape cause I smelled his candle.”
“I know! I was like, “Oh sorry.” and I had to walk all the way over and get him a new one.”
“Cause you smelled it?!”
“What does he think people do with candles in the store?”
“I know! I should have been like, “Um. they’ve all be smelled, Sir, and by people a lot less appealing than me!”
“He was lucky you were the one who smelled his candle!”
“He WAS lucky! I should have shoved that candle up his butt!”
“Yeah, how do you like the smell now, sir!!”
“Yeah, have a nice day! You should have gone for a votive!”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“Oh, it’s a much smaller candle.”
“Oh yeah. Good one.”
Anyway, I guess the moral of the story is, I’ll have to settle for just being mean to strangers-that-done-me-wrong (and Katie) on this blog. But there in lies the beauty, last week I was posting about the disintegration of our basic human rights, this week it’s candles up the butt.
Hope you check back often, cause you never know what you’re going to get!
*I can’t recall which one but either way I couldn’t have posted it here. She’s got a mouth like a trucker* and knows how to use it.
*Mostly tired, with a five o’clock shadow.