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Punditman says…
There was a time when Canada was known for being home to the world’s most polite people. Toss in a pandemic, rising inequality, a democratic deficit, mounting polarization, a climate emergency and an escalating proxy war that could turn us all to dust next week—and no wonder we’re just as grumpy as any other angst-ridden populace who isn't being literally pulverized by the Masters of War or made into refugees on the unarmed road of flight.
Or maybe it’s none of that.
I walk to get a coffee the other day and a guy in a pick-up truck “guns it” across the parking lot. Normally I wouldn’t hazard a guess as to what’s stuck in the craw of another—especially during that delicate, 8 am-pre-caffeinated time slot. But I’ve got a thing about speedsters in pedestrian-rich areas so in my own bleary morning head space he becomes an automatic asshat.
Was that wrong?
Of course it’s totally wrong to judge folks by their appearance but I can’t help ruminate that this yellow-vested scruff could easily fit into a ZZ Top clone band, though I speculate his “bad” attitude may be a hindrance. I’ve nothing against yellow vested workers, ZZ Top, big beards or pick-ups trucks. Again, it’s the reckless driving.
As it happens, lead-footed Long Beard queues up directly behind me in the Tim's line-up.
Meanwhile in front of me stands a sketchily vague middle-aged abstraction who shall be known henceforth as the “Gronk” (i.e. an unintelligent and callous person).
The Gronk is agitated. He starts whining about what he thinks is the slow service to get just "one coffee."
He’s way offside. And an automatic game misconduct for second guessing what it’s like to do someone else's job, especially when it includes dealing with the public.
I keep my mouth shut at first.
The Gronk continues: "This is what happens when you wipe kids’ asses ...(inaudible blathering)...This is what you get."
Wow. Now that’s a leap. Excessive mollycoddling is a problem psychologists have warned about for years. It also has zero connection to the issue at hand. Does the Gronk really believe there’s a direct link between helicopter parenting and his current wait time in a hectic coffee shop?
There are no spoiled "kids" working behind the counter. The workers comprise a diverse group of mostly middle aged women who are very busy.
Placate this dolt, I think.
“They probably have a lot of pick-up orders,” I purposely mutter as if to vaguely acknowledge his drivel without giving it oxygen.
No doubt they do. And I’m supposing all manner of best practices, order priorities, food prep and safety protocols and procedures that can be stressful and overwhelming at times—to say nothing of dealing with customers and the likes of His Nibs.
The Gronk could care less. Maybe it all began for him when teachers started handing out participation trophies for last place and having kindergarten graduation ceremonies (is that really a thing?). Maybe he’s been sulking ever since his kid’s team lost the house league playoff final because the coach “evened out” the ice time (and that was 18 years ago). It’s gotta be a decades-long bitterness, I surmise, that spiralled into a pathology causing him to view reality in an inaccurate and often negative light.
Or maybe it’s none of that.
The Gronk’s rant readily resonates with the other character in this rather convoluted and inflated yarn in search of an ending: Long Beard (remember him?). He turns around and leaves the queue. The Gronk then ponies up and manages to contain his misplaced vitriol long enough to pay for his order and also leave.
“Cause we bad, we’re nationwide.”
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It seems the ZZ had legs and knew how to use them😎