I So Don’t Have The Energy To Deal With Any Of This S***

I had just finished work. Exhaustion was threatening to take hold of my body and I was fighting with every fibre of my being to stay conscious enough for the final push of making the drive home. I had just popped into the local supermarket and picked up some cereal and a trifle. (I know, it’s an odd combination, but I hope future historians will struggle to find an explanation for it.)

I was walking toward my car, the light at the end of the tunnel glinting hopefully and signaling an end to my twelve-hour work day. I opted to cut down a quick side street since, outside of work, I’m anti-social, and working in retail sucks the enthusiasm to deal with the general public. A woman was coming in the opposite direction.

I side-stepped a dog turd a particularly lazy pet owner had decided to leave, and then the two words every brave retail knight dreads escaped the lips of the woman who was bearing down on me now.

Woman: “Excuse me!”

I stopped to look at her.

Woman: “Are you going to pick up that dog s***?”

I looked down at myself and at my cereal and trifle. Yup, I was most definitely not the designated s***-shoveller she presumed me to be. I was mystified as to how a random stranger she just accosted in the street should be responsible for cleaning up a random turd.

Me: “What?”

Woman: *Emphatically* “Are you going to pick up this dog s***?”

Me: “Why would I?”

Woman: “I see. This is what my council tax goes toward? Lazy workers who don’t keep the streets clean? I’m going to be reporting you.”

This is where I remembered something I read online about a similar situation, and it was perfect.

Me: *Earnestly* “Are you all right, dear? Do you need me to call someone to come pick you up?”

Woman: *Confused* “Yes, I’m fine. Why are you going to call someone?”

Me: “Because you must be senile, have dementia, or just be eternally stupid if you think a random person who just happens to be walking in the opposite direction is there to pick up s*** off the pavement.”

Woman: “There’s no need to be rude!”

Me: “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ll just ring the care home to have someone swing by in the van and meet you.”

Woman: “I don’t live in a care home! HOW DARE YOU BE RUDE TO ME?!”

I just stepped around her and continued walking. Her tirade ceased momentarily as she stared at my back in awed confusion. Apparently, this woman was not used to being ignored, and not having instant fulfillment of her entitled demands short-circuited her brain. The hamster in her head had apparently shrugged and decided to bail, leaving the proverbial hamster wheel spinning idly. She flapped her mouth open and shut as I threw her a cheeky wave and went on my way.