There are some seriously angry people in this world. I came across one yesterday. Asshats united at Saturday shopping.

I dropped Elder Spawn at work. He works in Coles a few hours a week at the local large shopping centre. Actually, when I say large, I mean it’s bigger than a single shop, but smaller than a mall type thing. Which is totally irrelevant really.

Elder Spawn slinks out of the car, looking furtively from left to right because freakin’ hell! A public place? With your mother? At 16? The shame and humiliation! Even if there is money involved.

I drive on to the opposite end of the shopping centre to buy some magazines for MOTH, Younger Spawn and Step Spawn.

The place is packed. It’s the Saturday afternoon shopping frenzy in full swing. I see a spot in the next row, so drive around there. Before I start to turn into the park, naturally I check I’m clear.
There’s a car coming toward me, but he’s going straight ahead and past me so I throw on the indicator, and start to drive into the spot. A parking spot, two places away from the door of the shopping centre on a busy day. Cool, right? Wrong.

I get out of the car, and there’s a car sitting behind me. It’s the ‘no indicator, going straight ahead car’. I wonder what they’re doing, but start walking. Their window goes down.

The screaming starts. Apparently, I am a fucking, selfish bitch. Apparently, I have no respect for my elders. Apparently, I am a lazy, fucking lowlife scum with shit for brains.

I take a look at the car. Hanging out the window is an elderly gentleman (and I use the term loosely), red in the face, screaming it me at the top of his lungs.

I start to speak, calmly. To explain.

He shouts “Oh come on, we both know that’s bullshit!” proving that along with being a dickhead, he must be psychic, as I didn’t even get the sentence out, yet he knew what I was going to say.

I give up, and just walk off toward the shops. He drives off around the corner, with a few more choice expletives.

As I cross the road to the shops, he throws his car into reverse, and comes straight back at me. People stare.

I keep walking, albeit faster. He screams at me some more, and I say “Have a nice day” wave, and go into the shopping centre. I don’t know where he went, and I didn’t much care by then, although hell would’ve been nice

Shaking a bit, I stand in the newsagents.

*breathe* *breathe*

I don’t do confrontation well at all. It scares me. A therapist type told me once it probably dates back to memories of my dad beating up on my mother when I was 7 or 8. She thought the child in me equates shouting with violence, hence the panic.

Whatever.

I don’t care if he was older. That doesn’t mean he wasn’t a rude bastard. He seemed to think I owed him something because he was grey with wrinkles.

Although I have a huge amount of inherent respect for the elderly, respect is still earned.

That bastard, doesn’t deserve any.