Lisa D. (chaoticidealism) wrote,
Lisa D.

On Foul Language

I'm 24 years old, and I just cussed someone out for the first time.

I don't think I did it right.

Let me set the stage for you. I'd just come home from work. I'd had trouble with my boss, and on top of that I was so overwhelmed from the heat, noise, and, mess, and general annoyances present at work that I knew I wasn't going to be able to prepare dinner properly, and that was bad because all the food I have right now needs preparation. I decided to stop at a nearby store to get a frozen pizza; at least I had only about a 50% chance of ruining that.

(Thinking back on it, I shouldn't have gone to the store. That store has horrible fluorescents, and it always makes things worse.)

I grabbed my pizza and went to the checkout. In line, I realized I had forgotten my wallet, along with its bank card. I still had my checkbook, though, so I thought I'd be OK.

The woman rang up my pizza and I started writing the check, putting my phone number on it as I knew was the rule at that store. The woman asked for my driver's license. "I don't have one," I said. (Obviously. I can't drive.)

"Well, do you remember your driver's license number?"

"No, but I remember my social security number."

"I'm sorry, that won't work. Do you have any other form of ID?"

"I have a paycheck made out to me."

"Sorry. We can't do that."

"Well, one of the people who works here knows me. Dorothy trained me a couple of years ago, and I worked here for a few days."

Dorothy couldn't be found.

At this point, I couldn't figure out what else to say. Had I had all my mental faculties, I might've been able to explain to the woman that I don't have a driver's license; that if I weren't who I said I was, how had I gotten a paycheck made out to me; that if she'd let me identify myself with a memorized driver's license number, why not a memorized social security number? Had I been dishonest, I suppose I could have claimed to have memorized my driver's license number; the check would've cleared and nobody would've known. But I hadn't the mental faculties to be dishonest, either.

So I'm completely stymied; my stomach is growling; I'm anxious and tense and I'm having to put forth a decent amount of effort just to filter the woman's words from the background store noise. And, for some reason, I thought something along these lines: "So, what do people do to tell others they're being unreasonable? I know! Cuss them out!" (Clearly my logic wasn't working very well.)

So I said, "Fuck you."

I forgot to change my tone, though, so I said it in the same way I would have said, "Have a nice day."

Oops. Maybe cussing needs practice before you can do it right?

I left, biked home, and nearly started two traffic accidents. For some reason, I've put my glasses down somewhere and can't find them. I need a shower but that means I'd have to get up and do something that requires sequential thought and tolerance of wetness... not a problem usually, but right now... forget it. I think I'd have trouble talking out loud at this point.

My cat Tiny came up to me just as I started typing this. He's not usually affectionate, but for some reason he climbed onto my lap and started purring and rubbing against my face. I guess he saw my distress and wanted to comfort me. Strange that a cat would do something that takes so very much "theory of mind"... but I suppose domestication has that effect on them. That, I think, and kitty treats.

I am going to go lie on the floor for a while. I think I'll be OK with a shower after that. I probably have some bread and butter, too. So things aren't that bad.

I don't think I'm cut out to curse at folks. I'm simply not going to go back to that store. The fluorescents alone are bad enough to prompt me to do that.
Tags: daily life, language

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