Please Be Polite

Yesterday I worked a very long shift...well...long for me. 


But it was split up and I only ended up with a 15-minute break. I was ravenous and the only place in the mall where I can get and eat food within 15 minutes is Arby's. (I know)


The employees there are always really nice and they usually give the mall discount without me asking. 


But their waiting area/pop area can get a little crowded. Whatever, right? People are generally polite, right?


Naw, man. NAW. 


There was a(n) (upper-class, white, tanned and highlighted) couple there, waiting for their food and getting drinks. The woman basically completely invaded my personal space to get a straw and a lid for her cup without so much as an 'Excuse me.'
She and her husband were shouting at each other about who wanted what...because Heaven forbid that she simply WALK back over to where the man was.


But none of that made me roll my eyes and breathe the word RUDE under my breath. 


When Mr. Upperclass turned and saw a black man in between him and his Horsey and Arby's sauce bar, he said, 
'CAN I GET IN HERE?'
Not, 'Excuse me please?'. Not, 'Pardon me, can I get in here?'.
He said 'CAN I GET IN HERE?' as if the black man had been purposely blocking his access to stupid ketchup. 
THAT made me wish I had balls. To say, 'HEY THERE DICKWAD, WOULD IT KILL YOU TO SAY PLEASE? DID YOUR MOTHER TEACH YOU ANY MANNERS???'
On the up-side of yesterday, I got LOTS of snuggles from my little man when I got home. Then he got chocolate gelato all over his new American Apparel shirt. It is on wash #3. 
Now I have to go chisel my car out of ice. Sweet. I freaking HATE February. Sorry Mom and Megan.