Attention WalMart Shoppers
If you’re a long-time reader here I don’t have to say this but if you’re not then: First and foremost, if you shop at WalMart YOU are a HUGE part of the economic problem and you always have been.
Now on with the post.
Have you see this yet?
What a bitch. Seriously. What a fucking bitch.
Yes, it’s a “free country”.
Yes, you “get to say what you want”.
But that doesn’t absolve you from having a little class and a little discretion. It certainly doesn’t absolve you of getting bashed over the head on the Internet by the entire world when your little unnecessary rant goes ‘viral’.
It certainly does not.
I’m a “liberal” but my heart doesn’t “bleed” too easily. I believe in Fairness For All–if you’re a Law Abiding Citizen…you get all the Rights, Privileges, Civil Rights, and Responsibilities afforded to you by Constitution just because you live in the United States of America. (Whatever that actually means in 2016 but, let me tell you, when I was growing up it DID mean something good.) You can honestly be the World’s Biggest ASSHOLE but so long as you’re acting within your Government Given Rights, I’ll defend you and your ugly mouth to my last breath.
This chick is way out of line. As a United States Citizen, who is Law Abiding and Well Within Her Rights…I get to call this cunt…a cunt.
The man in the video is going about his own business, he isn’t bothering anyone, AND he has a child with him. He did nothing to deserve the foul stench that she uttered in his direction. Nothing. As (what I imagine him to be) A Law Abiding United States Citizen he doesn’t have to take her shit.
Look, the very first job I ever had was cashier at the local A&P. I checked out people who had 2 or even 3 CARTS FULL of groceries and who paid for them with Food Stamps. REAL Food Stamps, for those of you who remember them. They were like, well, they actually looked like Traveler’s Cheques. They did. I had to stamp each one of them with the date and code of the store. I had to INDIVIDUALLY take each one (in $20.00 increments) OFF the register. It took a long ass time. It did. It pissed me off. It did. I was making $3.37/hour wondering how I was ever going to get out of my parent’s house and these people would come through my line with $200-$300 worth of groceries.
Yeah…way back then…in the Dark Ages….TWO or THREE CARTS of GROCERIES came to about $250.00. Try that today without ‘extreme couponing’. LOL
The people behind them would groan. They would whisper. The ballsy ones complained loudly. I wanted to agree with them. I was on my FEET 35-40 hours a week, at 17 years of age, so why weren’t these people with their Food Stamps doing the same thing?
Then I would see the shame in their eyes. The frowns on their faces. The children in their carts who seemed so happy that there would BE SOMETHING TO EAT THAT NIGHT.
I would do my job without being a bitch. I would go through the hassle of stamping all those Food Stamps. I would bag their groceries and wish them a nice evening.
Without fail just before that customer was out of earshot the NEXT person in line would make a snide comment.
But they didn’t see the shame in the eyes of the person before them. They, like me, had no idea of what the story was behind that family requiring Food Stamps.
I would check that person out without agreeing with them. Take their cash (no credit or debit cards in those days), bag their groceries, and wish them a nice night.
Around that time I met the man who would become my husband for these last 30 years. I moved out of my parents’ house. I lost my job at the A&P because, well hell, let’s face it, sex at that age is so much better than working! It IS! Damn…it is. If it wasn’t for you then you were doing it wrong and you probably still are. Pity. Any-hoo, I got pregnant. We had a baby. We got married. Hubby worked 40+ hours a week to support his new family and for that I will be forever grateful.
I tried to go back to work after having Miss Nicole but, at minimum wage, day care is a luxury. I’d end up with $20.00 in my pocket after working 35 hours a week. The rest went to day care. Would you work 35 hours a week for $20.00? Seriously. Would you? I don’t think so. Eventually I quit working and stayed home full time. Hubby kept working. He made maybe a buck or two over minimum wage.
We did NOT qualify for Food Stamps, Public Housing, or Public Assistance of ANY KIND. I know because I tried to get it. We scraped by for YEARS making far less than $20,000.00/year.
Hubby got different jobs. He moved up to a good paying job. Nothing fancy. We took in his brother who chipped in toward the rent. We moved to a nicer apartment in a nicer neighborhood. Then…the bottom dropped out of the economy. Miss Rebecca was just out of a crib at that age. Hubby was unemployed for over a year because there just weren’t any damn jobs out there. He collected Unemployment and then Extended Unemployment and then (after watching Congress debate for several hours and passing a bill) Emergency Unemployment. A grand $333.00/week…for a family of four. In the State of Connecticut. Rent was $750.00/month, brother in law kicked $100.00/month. Then there was electric, gas, phone, cable (there was no TV in this area if you didn’t have cable), car insurance, gas, the kids were growing, growing, growing so there was a frequent need for children’s clothing. By the time the end of the month came around we didn’t have a dime to our names. We’d spent it all just to keep our heads above water and begged, borrowed, and sometimes even stole, the rest.
Are you feeling me yet? If not, you have no heart and worse yet no brain.
Still, we did NOT qualify for Public Housing or Public Assistance or even Medical Insurance (except our daughters who were finally, after much fighting on my part, covered by the State of Connecticut). The TWO things we actually did qualify for were Food Stamps and WIC (because Rebecca was so young). If you’ve never done it, let me tell you that going to the WIC Monthly Evaluation was so much fucking fun! If you ever wanted to feel like dog shit on the bottom of someone’s shoe all you had to do was show up there once a month. And I did….for 18 months. Because my family NEEDED it.
I took our $250.00/month in Food Stamps to the grocery store every First of the Month, just as soon as they ARRIVED IN THE MAIL. I filled up carts and I checked out with them. It took a while because I had to do it in 3 orders. One for the Food Stamps. One for what WIC provided (which was an over abundance of peanut butter and cheese, so much that a family of six couldn’t eat it all, while ignoring things like diapers, weird.) One for necessary household items (soap, shampoo, deodorant, toilet paper, diapers, baby wipes, laundry detergent, dish detergent, razors, toothpaste, feminine hygiene products, etc. that I had to pay for on my own.) I filled up carts all at once because I couldn’t stand the idea of having to come back once or twice more and feeling the weight of the disapproving stares on my back that shot past me and to my young daughters who should never have felt daggers shooting at them.
Those people didn’t know me. They didn’t know my situation. Although they had the right to their opinions I was damned if I was going to put up with them.
Yes, I bought FOOD…GOOD FOOD. Food those behind me may not have been able to afford. Do you know why? Because it was the ONE THING my FAMILY had that made us FEEL GOOD. That made us feel as though we were not forgotten. We were not worthless. We were still human beings. It was the ONE THING that actually, in some small way, made us feel ALIVE.
There was no going to the movies. Hell, we couldn’t even afford to RENT a movie (remember when you could do that at BlockBuster?), there was no dinner-out, no takeout food delivered, nothing like that at all. I scrambled EVERY single month to keep the rent paid, the lights, phone, gas, and cable on. I can’t tell you how many times those things were shut off on us and I panicked and did whatever I could to get them turned back on in 24 hours.
Whatever I could. Believe it or go home. I don’t care which you choose.
Eventually, the economy straightened out. Hubby found work. Jobs didn’t pay great. Our Food Stamps lessened. It was more of a scramble to put food on the plates on my family. More of a scramble to pay the bills. But we got through it mostly because my mother DIED and left us the house I grew up in, the one hubby and I still live in. Trials and Tribulations surrounding that are a blog for another day.
She left me some money. We climbed out of debt. If it hadn’t been for her DYING we probably never would have made it at all.
So now when I see someone paying for groceries with an EBT card, I don’t bitch. I don’t whine. I don’t complain. I don’t feel put-upon. Because I don’t know their circumstances. Even if they take TWO carts of groceries out to a brand NEW SUV I don’t bitch. For all I know, they bought that SUV when things were good for them, never expecting their circumstances to turn sour, and they are now dancing as fast as they can to keep up with the payments on that SUV.
Grow up. even if they sell the SUV, they still have to pay back the loan on it. So whatever they get for it goes right to the bank. Then they’ll be without a car. Which means they can’t get to the grocery store, they can’t take their kids where they need to go and they can’t look for a job so they can climb out of the Hell Hole that is the Welfare System.
The next time you’re in line buying groceries and the person in front of you is doing the same but they use an EBT card. You feel what you consider to be Righteous Indignation welling within you just….stop. Take a breath. Realize you don’t know that person’s situation.
Understand that in the eyes of caring thinking people all over the globe you certainly will be considered a no-class jackass if you berate that person in front of an innocent child who just wants something to eat.