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Crazy People

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People are afraid. I’ve said this before. But I mean, this is the basis of how we interact with one another. Fear.

Costco. I’m strolling. As quickly as I can go. With a 200+ pound cart. A woman, say, 50, comes up from behind me, passes me, and cuts in front of me. Nevermind the fact that she just could have gone the same speed as me and waited for me to pass. I mean, we’re talking 10 feet here. I mutter, “you’re crazy”. She says, “pardon me?!?” I say, “I said you’re crazy”. She says, “pardon ME?!?!?” I say, “You heard me.” She says, “I’m not crazy, YOU’RE crazy”

Okay, nevermind again, that her comeback was golden. I say, “look at the inertia on this cart”, as I put all my effort into the cart, it slowly begins to roll away from me at 1 inch per second, and continues to roll for the next 10 seconds. I don’t wait that long. “I could have taken your feet off at the ankles”

This was my complete basis for calling her crazy. It didn’t piss me off that she cut in front of me. I’m USED TO IT. People do it all the time on the highway. I do have an issue with it, but this wasn’t my point. She could have DIED from the intertia in this cart. It was that heavy.

She starts into this diatribe. Her son is there and interjects. “Maybe you should just go.” I agree and move along. But in retrospect, I really should have laid into her. She’s THAT impatient that she has to come from behind me, pass me, and cut me off – all in the matter of 10 feet. All while risking her feet. All while forcing me to stop the cart – a considerable effort even at the pace it was moving. She must be the kind of person that cuts people off on the highway. These people must REALLY be in a hurry. I mean, somebody must be about to DIE.

It’s crazy. CRAZY – yes, that’s why I called you CRAZY, you stupid woman.

It strikes me that her reaction to me calling her crazy was a reaction of fear. Her IMMEDIATE response was to take a defensive posture and attempt to strike back (would that make it an OFFENSIVE posture?) It doesn’t matter. She couldn’t just ignore me. She couldn’t ask me what my problem was or why I called her crazy. And she couldn’t refrain from launching into her diatribe. She couldn’t maintain rationality. She really had nothing to be afraid of, yet it was fear that motivated her response.

And this is the reason we have road rage, gun killings, fights, and all the rest. Fear. You-have-an-issue-with-me therefore you-must-be-attacking-me therefore I-must-attack-back. Fear. Gotta love it.

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Written by worlok2112

September 18, 2005 at 7:40 am

Posted in Uncategorized

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