Boy. It’s been a while since I last blogged! Instead of hitting “save draft” I hit “publish” causing me to publish a post that I’d just barely begun! Basic rookie 101 mistake. Just TypiKel. What would you do if this happened to you?
Ok, nevermind – let’s just start fresh.
What Would You Do If This Happened To You?
I was invited out to dinner last night with the 95 year-old Francine, my sister, her partner, a dear friend and her sister and brother-in-law. The latter two are visiting from Holland. We enjoyed a lovely meal at a restaurant that is popular with both locals and visitors mainly for its location. It’s right on the shores of English Bay, the prime beach here in Vancouver.
Those in the know will be quick to point out that the restaurant is actually waaay to the left of the photo. However it shows off Vancouver well and is just as picturesque as our view last night.
This restaurant is pretty special to me as it’s actually where I met my late husband John. Sorry, you’ll have to wait for my impending memoir (now, ahem at 70,000 words) to get the funny details on that event.
Anyway, after we enjoyed a delicious meal, superb wine and wonderful conversation, it was sadly time to go. When my sister left to drive Francine home I stood for a few minutes gathered around the table with my friend and the visiting relatives. The brother-in-law mentioned that he normally uses a walker due to lingering issues attributed to years of high level football/soccer. We then began to share brief tidbits of our youths which I found absolutely refreshing and energizing.
And. Then. It. Happened.
“SHUT THE F**K UP!”
The room fell silent and the four of us froze. Had we heard correctly? We turned as one to the table directly behind us. Two women (their ages clocked them as mother and daughter) and a man. The latter was halfway out of his chair, his face infused an angry, mottled red. This was clearly the mouthpiece.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Think happy, peaceful thoughts. Go to a happy place …
My friends were very sensible and began to edge towards the exit. “Best not to honor him with a response. Geez, I feel sorry for his wife. We get to leave but she’s got to go home with him.”
Me? I fell back on my usual go-to stress reliever. Humor. “Well, that was certainly effective!”
Barking Man (thanks, AMD, love your moniker for him) dramatically hurled his napkin and bellowed “It wasn’t offensive. YOU’RE offensive!”
The fellow had not only just inexplicably rocketed to 60 instead of simply dawdling to 10 and asking us to “perhaps hold the conversation elsewhere” but now he’d really gotten it wrong. He wasn’t going to be allowed to get away with that woeful misinterpretation.
My reality was now a singular focus. This wiry, horrid little chap with his jaw jutting out a mile. We locked eyes as I leaned in.
“My good man, I must correct you. I most certainly did NOT say ‘offensive.’ You misheard me. My exact words were ‘Well, that was certainly effective. Effective.’ And it was. Look. Your charming comment has not only shut us down but the entire room.”
If you thought he couldn’t get any redder, you’d be wrong.
As he spluttered and struggled to get back up, I refused to look at him and turned to his paler than pale companions and smiled. Poor women. “My friends and I are leaving. I do apologize if we ruined your evening. I do hope your can enjoy what’s left of it.”
Driving home, I realized I’d been channeling the sanity of my dear late father. He once nudged his car into the back of another while entering a parking lot. The affected driver stomped towards my parents’ car, fists clenched. Dad rolled down his window and uttered the now family classic “Get back in your car, you silly little man.” No more needed to be said or done.
Ok. Now what would you do if this happened to you? Ignore, verbally spar, or perhaps flatten the little s**t? If you’d care to share, I’d love to hear.
*** Thank you to the folks who reached out to alert me about the 404 error message of my rookie blogging error. You guys are the best. ***
14 Responses
You and your dining guests are my heros of peace! I am in admiration. Your reponse was so much better for your health and showed such grace and class. I am ashamed and emabarassed to admit I would have gone down the rage road to hell with this creature and would have made an ass of myself. Hopefully I will remember your post if I am in a position to choose the high road or the low road. Insert a bow to you lovely folks here.
Thank you for the bow, Tammy. I’ll pass it on to the troops with pleasure. I’m normally someone who is loathe to rock the boat. I can think of two instances that I didn’t speak up when I should have and after the second one I promised myself that I wouldn’t let someone get away with horrid behavior ever again. Sunday night was the first time since that vow and my reaction was purely off the cuff. I do understand the rage road option and applaud you for knowing that’s how you’d react. My sister asked if any of the servers did anything and it’s interesting that they didn’t. Afterwards, as we were walking through the bar, our lovely waiter zipped by and said “I’m sorry.” But that was it.
Kelly, your behavior was civil and quite appropriate, the man was an A…s! Bravo.
Thank you, Frank. All of us were absolutely gobsmacked. It truly came out of nowhere.
Was it Donald Trump and Melania? Because I’m really thinking it was Donald Trump…
I hate conflicts like that. It makes the introvert in me cringe. I still remember an incident in the bread and cereal aisle of a grocery store in 1999 when a crazed shopped accused me of road rage because my basket was parked in front of the cereal she wanted and I didn’t move when she told me to move with–get this–her body language. Not “pardon me” or “oh, look! there’s the cereal I want!”, but her body language supposedly told me to move and I was an idiot for not moving. So she went off on me. All I managed to say was “You need help” as I tried to wheel away with my dignity.
Oh how I wish I could affirm that it was Donald and Melania. But no. It wasn’t. It was a short little Brit. As you know, I adore the Brits, not just this particular one. He was a corker. What I wouldn’t give to get some insight on the real reason for that considerable pent up rage.
And please know that I’m saluting your comment to Cereal Woman. A quiet “You need help” is magnificent and I shall add it to my new repertoire. What was she thinking? That perhaps you were hard of hearing and conveyance through body moves was her best option? It really is about maintaining the dignity when crazed folks attack, isn’t it? Took me a lonnggggg time to figure that out …
Ugh…not easy on the digestion of a delicious meal with family. Hopefully, the offender who leveled the effective language was just having a bad day. Whenever possible I agree with your high-road navigation…too bad his low brow comments took everyone down a dark alley.
Yeah, it was quite something. If he was having a bad day, then he should have barked out a snappy “oh, do move on, people” a good 5 minutes earlier. Scary thinking about his blood pressure levels holding in all that rage until it escaped in one big explosion. He was SO loud and SO angry.
Wow, what a rude person ! I think you handled the situation beautifully ! He obviously has very poor people skills and a really short fuse . I have to ask, did you make your retort in a British accent ?
Ha ha ha! Who knows me? Yes, I did – it wasn’t strong or thick I don’t think. Just enough to help me with the annunciation.
Kelly you handled yourself and the barking man remarkably. I wouldn’t have let a nasty command like that slide either. Who should’ve known better never anger a writer, lest be written about. ?
Yes, you nailed it, Jeanine. Don’t fire us up. “Silly little man,” indeed.
Wow! What a jerk. I bet that alcohol was involved, as that seems to bring out the worst in people. You’re right to feel sorry for his family members, who have to deal with him on a regular basis.
You know, I didn’t look to see if there was booze on the table. My sister might remember. She wasn’t there for the “defining moment” but she noticed them as they walked in. All looked unhappy then apparently.