Years ago, I was stopping off at one of the big box grocers along 8th Street E, in Saskatoon. I was in the right hand lane, signaling to turn into the parking lot, when this copper-coloured streak blew past me and turned into the same approach I was planning on entering. I blew my horn in protest, as I often had previous to that occasion and have done so, since. Thinking nothing more of it, I followed the car around and found a parking spot to my liking. The driver of the copper Oldsmobile did as well, parking adjacent to where I was located. I stepped out of my little blue car and stepped toward his direction, looking up in time to notice the man, enraged, storming towards me. A clear case of road rage. I guess, he didn't care for my honking the horn, despite his blatantly being in the wrong.
He threw a plethora of colourful language at me, as a precursor to striking at me with either of the clenched fists at flailing at his sides. Normally, when confronted with such a situation, the bullied child in me, chooses to flee or crumple into a ball, but on this occasion I addressed the situation in a calm collected manner.
With a heavy sigh, I spoke softly to the man, saying, "Sir. I would be more than happy to kick your ass for you, if that's indeed what you want, but think about your child." I pointed to his car, where a lone child was looking out the back window at their father. "If I kick your ass in front of your child, they will never respect you again. They'll always look back on that time that their father was beaten down in a Superstore parking lot." I explained. "Might I suggest you climb back in the car and safe face with your child. Be the bigger man."
He seemed to calm down, trading glanced between me and his child. Clenched fists were soon relaxed and he calmly returned to his car. I breathed a heavy sigh of relief as he drove out of the parking lot, as this dude was big and undoubtedly would have turned me into a crimson stain on the asphalt.
He threw a plethora of colourful language at me, as a precursor to striking at me with either of the clenched fists at flailing at his sides. Normally, when confronted with such a situation, the bullied child in me, chooses to flee or crumple into a ball, but on this occasion I addressed the situation in a calm collected manner.
With a heavy sigh, I spoke softly to the man, saying, "Sir. I would be more than happy to kick your ass for you, if that's indeed what you want, but think about your child." I pointed to his car, where a lone child was looking out the back window at their father. "If I kick your ass in front of your child, they will never respect you again. They'll always look back on that time that their father was beaten down in a Superstore parking lot." I explained. "Might I suggest you climb back in the car and safe face with your child. Be the bigger man."
He seemed to calm down, trading glanced between me and his child. Clenched fists were soon relaxed and he calmly returned to his car. I breathed a heavy sigh of relief as he drove out of the parking lot, as this dude was big and undoubtedly would have turned me into a crimson stain on the asphalt.
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