Matronizing social worker rejoined, over and over.
I expect to see a precipitous rise in such incidents in the Age of Obama.
I guess it’s a couple of years old, but I found it deeply satisfying.
Matronizing social worker rejoined, over and over.
I expect to see a precipitous rise in such incidents in the Age of Obama.
I guess it’s a couple of years old, but I found it deeply satisfying.
The slo-mo was especially good…
And the punch-er looked like a former motorcycle momma…
Could be why she took the, er, direct approach…
Here’s hoping the roundhouse didn’t result in a boxer’s fracture: it had all the makings though.
Grandma punches like a girl.
Greetings:
I remember my dear old dad teaching me, “Don’t watch the eyes, watch the hands.”
Paging Semanticleo, paging Semanticleo.
She needs to get her shoulder behind it.
The injuries were entirely superficial.
But no doubt shocking, for all of that. I worked in the MickeyD’s drive-thru when I’d just graduated from high school, and one memorable day I was dealing out my sunshine (I actually was noted in those days for my cheerfulness, politeness, and clarity of voice) when a woman took umbrage at my calling her “Ma’am” – she said I was mocking her. She drove off in a huff, muttering to herself. Young and naive as I was, I was shocked enough by her hostility; but I shook it off because there were cars piling up, and went back to my work.
The next driver wouldn’t look at me when I greeted him at the window; he just stared, open-mouthed, out his windshield. By the time I tumbled to the fact that Something Was Up and glanced in the direction he was looking, the woman who I thought had driven off but who in fact had just parked her car at the end of the parking lot rushed up to the window and slugged me in the face. Twice. Black eye; bruised cheek. Then she raced away and took off with squealing tires. I slumped to the floor, crying with the shock, not so much the pain.
My manager ineffectually called out, “Hey! Hey!” a couple of times, and eventually called the police – but neither of us had a license plate or anything for them, so all ANYbody said to me was, “Why didn’t you hit her back?”
My considered answer was, “Because I didn’t want to get McDonald’s in trouble,” and that would’ve been true if I’d thought about it at the time (I was and am pretty loyal to my employers), but the truth was that I didn’t have the mental resources to think that fast: I’d never been hit in the face before by even a known enemy, much less by a total stranger. Whew!
Including the police: “If anything like this ever happens again, you should strike back.”
Oh. Okay. I’ll work on that.
The fact that it’s true doesn’t make it easy; if it happened again today, I’d probably still not be able to react that way, unless the threat were to one of my kids.
And then proceeded to prove her point. Damn.
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