People need to calm the hell down.
A few weeks ago, I was at the grocery market waiting in line to purchase groceries (because stealing is way wrong) when the old woman in front of me in line decided to complain about the high prices of her groceries to the check out girl. Now, the check out girl probably makes eight bucks an hour if she's lucky, most likely attends school and has probably never looked at a business model of any kind for anyone anywhere ever. But the old lady took out her fiscal frustration on the poor girl anyway.
"I'll bet you guys are just loving this, huh?" the old lady pointed at the check out girl. "Do you know how hard it is for those of us on a fixed income to survive?"
Before the check out girl could explain that she had no fucking clue what the senior citizen was talking about, I responded to the old lady. What can I say? I'm a special kind of guy.
"Who fixed your income?" I asked her.
"Excuse me," she said.
"You're excused," I said. "Don't let it happen again."
The old lady's countenance (that means face) twisted into a stern expression complete with tightly pursed lips and glowing red cheeks.
"I hope you don't ever have to try and live on Social Security," she said to me, before leaving the store in a custom made huff (it had chrome tailpipes).
"I won't have the chance," I muttered to myself.
As the cherubic check out girl rang up my food, I said to her, "How dare you raise the cost of that lady's living?"
She didn't get it.
I laughed to let her know I was joking.
She didn't smile.
"Are you okay?" I asked her.
"Yeah," she said. "But you don't need to be yelling at old ladies. They have it hard enough. After all their years on the planet, they've earned the right to complain a little to whoever they feel like."
"Good point," I said.
And then I added, "Nice chins."
I hate everyone.