I’ve been agonizing over writing this blog for some time now, ever since the incident itself took place. I have discussed the situation with my wife at great lengths and finally resolved that today was finally the time to bring it to light, considering all that you have heard on the air today on CHFI.
A few weeks back I found myself standing in line at a small convenience store. A young woman and a friend were just exiting the store as I walked in. There was a young man standing directly in front of me and a very frail, elderly woman directly behind me holding a bag of milk. Behind her, leaning over the small desk at the lottery kiosk filling out his numbers for that night’s draw, was another young man. this guy took centre stage in those few brief moments that I’d like to detail in this blog.
I don’t know what this guy did for a living but his voice was loud enough to be heard all over the store. It wasn’t the fact that he was boisterous that disturbed me enough to write about this. It was his language, his repetitive use of a certain four-letter word, over and over, that made the woman behind the counter and the elderly woman in line, extremely uncomfortable.
Every second word out of this man’s mouth was the one that most women find extremely offensive. A word that is demeaning when it’s uttered only once. A harsh-sounding word that had no place in this setting. I watched the woman behind the counter, the owner of this small establishment, growing uncomfortable with a situation that was rapidly escalating. As the word kept coming out of this guy’s mouth, you could tell that she was becoming increasingly uneasy herself. I could just imagine what might be going through her mind as his eyes darted from one to another.
Another young man stood at the door waiting for the person in line in front of me to conclude his transaction. Another young man stood beside him. He had a responsibility to take control of this situation.
I mentioned at the start that when I arrived, a young woman and her friend were just leaving. Something was said from the back of the store concerning how revealing her shorts were. A burst of raucous laughter from all these young men was the response to this crude remark. You have to understand my position in line. I would have had to turn around to see the expression on the face of the white-haired older woman behind me. I didn’t need to. If fear can be a perceptible thing, it was emanating from her. I could almost feel it. She was in a situation that she probably felt ill-equipped to handle. She probably was wondering that she might be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
I was watching intently to see how all this was going to play out. The proprietor of the store is someone who might have been a relative newcomer to this country, but her command of the English language was just fine. She asked the man in front of me a very simple question. He seemed to be the one who had trouble understanding. He repeated his request and she then asked him the same question again, because he didn’t seem to either hear it or understand it. He glanced back at his buddies with that exasperated look that I’ve seen on occasion on the faces of people who might be intolerant. He looked back at her and repeated his request again slowly, enunciating each word carefully, as if that might make this situation speed up. She gave up and went ahead with the transaction. I thought she might also be looking for him to make a quick exit.
Meanwhile, at the back of the store, the guy, lottery ticket in hand was waiting in line, sharing a joke with the one at the door with his identification written all over him…This is what unnerved me most….
One of the young men at the door wore a t-shirt that had big bold letters on the back announcing his employment at a certain job. That’s as far as I will go with this. I don’t want to paint this particular organization with a broad brush by suggesting that all of its employees would be a part of what had just happened. After reading what the letters on the shirt spelled out, I had hoped that he would have interceded to try to get his buddies to tone it down. He did not.
When it was my turn at the cash, I made sure to make direct eye contact with the store-owner. I rolled my eyes and found that it helped to gain a flicker of a smile on her face. She had been tense, and in that brief moment, she seemed to loosen up somewhat. As I left the store, the elderly woman behind me in line seemed visibly shaken by all this. She looked at me, and I could sense that she was unsure of every male in that store, including me. I tried to make eye contact with the one who had started it all, but he was intent on his buddies who were now outside, gathered around a few vehicles.
As I exited the store, I wondered about those who wear company t-shirts. They might be away from the job, but they are still representing what they do for a living and who employs them. I was in no position to open my mouth and tell these guys to tone it down. The situation could have gotten really ugly. I wanted these young men on their way as quickly as possible, too. My intervention might have made a bad situation worse. But I couldn’t let this situation slip by without taking a few moments to express my thoughts about what I had witnessed. As I said at the start, I talked this over with my wife and she agreed that it might be worth a blog.
I am not from another planet. I know that this kind of brutish behavior is not that unusual. There will be times when a bunch of guys will get together to let off a little steam and the language might get a little heated. Competitive, recreational sports come to mind, or when they are at home enjoying one another’s company. There is no place for it in mixed company in a place like the one I just described. There was also no excuse why the one, who proudly displayed the words I’ll never forget on the back of his t-shirt, didn’t step in to tell his buddies to keep it civil and respectful.
As we end a day that CHFI has devoted to the plight of women in dangerous situations in their homes, I thought I might illustrate the fact that it’s not only there they need to be wary of their surroundings. I can only imagine what that frail, elderly woman and the store owner both thought when they arrived home that night. I wonder who was waiting for them.
I also wanted to take this opportunity to thank you for supporting the Canadian Women’s Foundation and their Shelters From the Storm fundraiser earlier today. Your generosity means so much to those in need of some place to escape to, a safe haven away from the violence and the abuse prevalent in society today.
****
Don Jackson
