Saw Aunt Jennifer yesterday at the grocery store. She was 80 if she was a day and hunched over, carrying a great big purse. Her hair was dyed reddish-brown, and she wore a subdued plaid dress with support hose and clunky shoes. Her husband, a big man on the motorized scooter the grocery store provided, rolled up to the self-checkout while AJ pushed the grocery cart slowly behind. When she caught up, he jumped off the scooter (looking very spry) and proceeded to berate AJ.
“Quick, if you go out that door, you can catch her.”
AJ looks slightly confused, her gaze darting between the two exits closest to us.
“She’s right out there, hurry up and you’ll catch her before she goes.”
AJ heads for a door.
“Not that damn door, that door,” Uncle yells, stabbing the air with a beefy finger.
She was back a few minutes later, her quarry caught I suppose because Uncle wasn’t rude to her again. I was so irritated I forgot to scan my twenty cents off butter coupon. The first rule of dealing with others is respect. She may be a horrible shrew who’s ruined his life (I doubt it), but yelling at her in public is just wrong.
I hope she unsheathed her claws when they got in the car and told him not to ever embarass her in public again. I hope she told him he was a rude, insensitive old pig and I hope he felt so bad he apologized profusely.
I hope she doesn’t just embroider tigers; I hope she is one. Mean old Uncle.