Attitude Fight

The guy ahead of me cannot figure out how to swipe his EBT (food stamp) card. The cashier is not a lot of help, but neither is he. He's frustrated and hostile.

When the transaction's eventually achieved, he requests a bag. The cashier says, "That will be twenty cents".

He asks, "Is it plastic?". He wants his money's worth. I can understand that.

I feel his pain, but he needs to move his backpack so I can put my groceries in front of the cashier who wants to ring them up. She had while he was still f'ing with the card reader, but I held off. Now she's insisting. 

I ask him politely, verbally rather than with pointed stares and my mind this time, "Hey, could you move your backpack so I can put my stuff down?"

He hears me. He ignores me. 

I am a small white female in 7-Eleven, holding a Pomeranian. This does not stop me from telling him, "You would not survive long in New York".

I know I'm picking a fight, but I'm from New York some eighteen years ago and can't help it. The law of the jungle in NYC is move your shit briskly so the next person can unload and check out. All in a New York minute.

He takes a moment then says, "I'm from Brooklyn".

I shift my Pomeranian so I can load my groceries in my purse and not have to pay for a bag. "Then you know better", I say.