top of page

Thanksgiving vignette

Friday 11/23/18

Working. Spent Thanksgiving alone. Too difficult to be around people who live in nice homes, have their family, a regular life, peace, comfort. Hurts me too much with how things are right now.

There was a dog outside the Starbucks yesterday. Looked like a terrier and beagle mix. He was small, and shivering, as the temperature was thirteen degrees. This was around 9:30 in the morning. I stopped to pet and comfort him, as did a number of other people. You can bring your dog into this Starbucks. There were people in line, then a few people waiting by the drink stand for their beverage to come up.

One of them at the latter was this woman who was well-dressed, about thirty-years-old. Attractive, were it not for this scowl of outright hate on her face. I don't normally read much into a person's facial expressions when they're simply standing or sitting somewhere. I do read into the eyes. You can see a lot in a person's eyes. You can see worlds in mine. I'm at this Starbucks daily, sometimes for six, eight hours at a time. I know the staff well. They do a good job there. The well-dressed woman starts complaining. There are kids waiting for hot chocolate. There is nothing awry. No one is lollygagging or working inefficiently. No one is joking around with co-workers.

She starts giving it to the manager hard. "Where the hell is my drink? It's like this every time I come in here." Of course, this is the woman who left the poor dog outside. The manager is keeping it together. She starts swearing at him. She cites the patriarchy. The manager finally says, "The attitude isn't necessary, miss. It's a holiday." Trust me, she got a good ten shots in before he said that. I know this man, a very gentle soul outwardly. They give her her drink, and she says it's the wrong drink, which I tend to doubt. More rudeness from her, more insults. They start to remake it. She wants a refund. Kids are staring at this woman now, mouths open. The manager gets her her money from the cash register, and as she turns to leave, he says, "Have a good Thanksgiving." He didn't say it obnoxiously, but to say it in this context is tantamount to saying, "Hey, you're a monster, knock it off."

She turns, and in front of all of these little kids, says, "Fuck off."

Who is someone like this? Someone like this is someone who hates themselves, and is going to do everything they can to cut others. Nicks. The creation of divots of skin. Someone like this is someone who is, I'm sure, frequently a member of digital mobs. If you are someone who is ever a member of a digital mob, I am not going to say that you should kill yourself, but you should kill that version of yourself. You should put it down, like a rabid dog behind a shed. Because no good person ever was a member of a mob, and the person you are hurting most is yourself. You are awash in your own toxicity and you need to destroy that baster. Your only chance is a purge. Find a way to get those juices out of you. Someone like this is always someone who hates someone smarter, kinder, more productive, someone who stands for things rather than pretends to be about things.

She gets outside, and she unties the dog, and yanks him into motion, which nearly results in him falling over, no doubt because his legs are numb, in addition to the force of the leash. Poor little guy living with a she-demon like this. Someone like that, who I would bet has a ridiculously easy life, in terms of comfort and what not--external comforts, not internal ones--careens through their days being terrible to people. This was not an isolated pit stop for her, clearly.

It wasn't even a long wait. It's not like there's a long line at the Starbucks on Thanksgiving morning. I wonder who she took out her self-loathing on next.

That was kind of my take-away moment from the day. I told the manager I thought he handled that well, I wished him a happy Thanksgiving, and I went back to my lonely day of work.

bottom of page