Be the Same in Private as You Are in Public

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Today my girl has a playdate at our apartment and we went to pick up some snacks:

  • Ice pops (yes, in the winter)
  • Tings (2 bags)
  • 2 Organic Apples
  • Popcorn with a touch of butter. (Paul Newman)

As I went to the register, I spotted the usual clerk, a young woman wearing a navy blue hijab.

An older, white gentleman cuts in front of me and normally I’d speak up—but I let it go because he’s older and has just two items to buy.

With an accent, the clerk tells him says: “$11.58”.

“What did you say?” the gentleman asks imperiously. The young clerk remains silent. He turns to a young black woman with wavy long hair who is working at another counter: “What did she say? I can’t understand her!” He seems to enjoy the spectacle he’s creating.

I said: “She said ‘$11.58’ (line cutter!) Just ask her what she said.”

He ignored me and continued to speak loudly to the other cashier: “I can’t understand her! Do you work here?”

I looked at his face and suddenly a memory sprouted up. I thought to myself: “That face, that name, I know who that is…” 

I asked him, “Wait are you on TV?”

He stopped and gave me a strange look, almost a smirk. Half happy to be recognized and half in terror for being caught for behaving like a bully.

He asked: “Why are you? Are you?”

I said: “Nope.”

I knew exactly who he was. I remembered seeing him on TV reviewing Charlyne Yi’s gorgeous movie, Paper Hearts. He was a critic and the way he panned the movie made me think he was a bitter, old dude who didn’t understand the movie, nor tried to understand it and therefore he dismissed it.

Of course, he is a critic.

Back to present time in the grocery store.

This turned to the young woman wearing a hijab.

“I’m sorry, I just couldn’t understand you.” He weakly apologized, took his bag and left.

I felt a little bad for calling him out and wondered if he was just having a bad day.

The young woman began ringing my snacks up and looked wearily in his direction:

“He does this all the time.”

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Let’s Fight and Let’s Be Happy.

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I am sitting in my bed which is about to break. The bed frame is buckling and I need to adult hard and buy a new one. As I rolled around my bed last night, I worried the whole thing would come crashing down.

I was too tired to get up and take action, but I did crack a joke with my husband that we will wake up V shaped.

Right now the reality is what you make of it. Right here right now. Not they way you WANT it to be, but what it is now.

Me, sitting in my pajamas, sitting on top of my broken bed and …I am thankful for the broken bed. I’m thankful for it’s service and it’s pretty clear we need to move on. It’s not a pain in the ass, it’s a privilege to 1. have a bed, 2. have the resources to buy a new bed frame.

I’m not writing this to sound like a know it all. I’m writing this to myself so when the world seems shite, I can read this and remind myself that we are responsible for our reality.