As you know, I’ve been out of work, kind of. Well, I’ve been trying to find my way in the “self-employed/ writer” world. It’s been slow going. Very slow. So in a moment of panic, I went to the Department of Human Services to see if I qualified for food stamps, just in case I was a huge failure. I didn’t want my kid to starve because his mother can’t get along with most people who call themselves her boss.
Anyway, I was standing in this line with my application. There was a Spanish speaking lady in front of me. There was a Muslim lady in front of her (she was white), there was a white lady behind me and a black girl behind her. So I hear this white woman behind me start running her mouth. First, she’s talking about the Muslim lady. “Look at her, in here, applying for food stamps. She probably got a husband who owns a convenience store that make plenty of money.” Yes, i am writing how she is speaking. And she’s talking to the black girl next to her. Then another lady who speaks Spanish, comes to stand with the Spanish speaking lady in front of me. White lady behind me says, “Oh, hell naw. That bitch wasn’t in line. Did she just cut line? Oh, we doin that now?” I’m still facing forward, listening to this rubbish. Then, she starts talking to the black girl next to her about how she’s glad Trump got into office, he’s already sent a “bunch of them back and soon they won’t be here to take our jobs,” because in Tennessee, everyone that speaks Spanish must be Mexican. At that point, I turn around and look at her in her hot pink tank top and jean shorts with crocks, fake blonde hair pulled into a ponytail not looking a bit like she had to get off work from a job that the “Mexican” lady in front of me was vying to steal. I’m not going to say that she looked like she just pulled in from the obese crack whore side of the trailer park, but if I were going to be judgy and make a comparison, I might go with that one. I decided to bite my tongue and mind my own business, because I didn’t want to be that crazy white girl on a World Star video fighting in the food stamp office like the piece of white trash everyone would assume I was. Plus, I’m a pacifist. I prefer a mental battle over a physical one any day. So instead of saying, “Bitch, we are all here, because we’ve fallen on hard times, how about not looking at people from 45’s perspective and maybe look at them like human beings who are just trying to make sure their kids have food just like you,” I just turned back around and waited for my turn to turn in my paperwork.
If you’ve never had the pleasure of going to the DHS office to apply for health benefits or other benefits, it’s not swift process. So, just as I was starting to calm down and go to my happy place, this woman, and I use that term loosely, starts talking about the lady two or three people behind her who has a two or three year old little boy with her who is full of energy and not so happy. All of a sudden, it’s, “that wouldn’t be me. I’d beat his ass. I be damned my kid act like that.” Of course she’s loud as all get out, because that’s how ghetto people are. They want to make sure they are the center of attention and they want the confrontation like a child misbehaving at school. I hear the mom telling the lady in front of her that this is the third appointment they had been to that day and he hadn’t had a nap so of course he is fidgety and cranky. The more this loud mouthed ghetto woman talked, the more I thought to myself, “what’s the opposite of a pacifist? Maybe one little fight in the middle of a food stamp office wouldn’t completely ruin me. I could go back to being a pacifist after this, right? Like eating a piece of chicken and then going back to being a vegetarian. I can make the rules up as I go along. I do it for everything else.” But, instead, I was on my best behavior and I didn’t say a word, but all I really wanted to do was ask her what church she attended because I just kept seeing her on the front pew at church every Wednesday and Sunday, like a lot of these good church folk do round these parts. Love your neighbor (just don’t get caught). Don’t drink (in public). Be kind to others (that look and love like you do).
Moral of the story, I have to be successful at this so I don’t ever have to go back there again, because next time, I will probably need bail money.
RouletteWeekend 