I wound up at Wendy's this afternoon, because I needed socks. I left the house at 2:20 and headed for Walmart, because they have socks, and because--conveniently--Wendy's shares a parking lot with them and I wanted chili.
Ok, mostly I just wanted to get out of the house, but socks and chili made for a good excuse.
I sat there with my hot chili and plain ("are you sure you don't want butter and sour cream?") baked potato, minding my own business. Still, I couldn't help but overhear the woman at the counter demanding to speak to the manager. I have no idea what she was upset about, but from the tone of her voice and the venom she spit while demanding him made it pretty clear she was super pissed.
He was not in; she wanted his phone number. His personal phone number.
Wisely, the shift manager refused to give it to her, but did offer her various other numbers to call, as well as the time the manager would be in.
That apparently was not good enough. She stomped off in a huff and tried to slam the door on her way out...not so easy when the door has a slow-stop hinge. It whooshed slowly, forcing a burst of cold air to wash over me.
It was a diversion for 2 minutes. And while there were plenty of other people around, I wasn't sitting close enough to eavesdrop on any conversations. What I did was eat my chili and curse myself for sitting so close to the door, because in spite of my spiffy neon orange sweatshirt, by that point I'm pretty sure my nipples were close to be able to cut glass.
(Apologies to my kid. I'm pretty sure he thinks I don't have nipples. Or that they ever stand up and get perky.)
A few minutes later the door swung open and this very nicely dressed guy walked in; suit, tie, neatly trimmed beard. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the previously pissed off woman in the parking lot, still looking pissed off, so it didn't take much to add 2 and 2.
So yeah, I paid attention, because it might be entertaining.
He marched toward the counter, stopped about 5 feet back, and huffed, "You...you...Mexicans!" and then turned around and headed for the door.
I didn't realize I was saying it out loud, but what spun through my head and then slipped out my mouth was "What the fuck?"
He looked right at me and said rather proudly, "I said that."
"Yeah, I know. Very classy of you."
He threw the door open and left, and I watched as he walked across the parking lot and kissed his previously pissed off wife/girlfriend/hookup like he was some sort of hero.
This is the joy of living in a small town, because dammit, that was major confrontation...