Peace and Love

I just came back from the organic supermarket: scene of a very unexpected and verbally violent confrontation.
Bear in mind that this is a cosy, hippy-ish, good-vibey place where nice people like me go to buy organic vegetables and the odd treat like - oh, I don't know - a yummy quinoa tart. You get the idea? I will also admit that I have even fantasized about working there: oh, it must be so relaxing just to potter about among the organic vegetables and chat to like-minded customers all day, blah, blah...

So imagine my shock when the row broke out. Two of the nice girls who work there, screaming away at each other on their tills while a handful of customers - including LB and myself - looked on, open-mouthed.
"Stupid bitch!" "Is it possible to be any more pathetic than you, you stupid cow?!"
(these are just a couple of the rather tame translations I can offer).

When it was my turn to pay, I kept a decidedly low profile, simply offering what I hoped was a sympathetic smile when one of the girls shook her head and told me "You have no idea."
"Oh, it's just a little misunderstanding, I'm sure..." I faltered.
"No, it's not!" she snapped back. "Do you have any idea what it's like to work here day in day out? I've had enough!"

Right. I nodded, wished her good luck, and slunk away.
A tiny thrill of excitement fluttered through me as I pushed LB home; you know, that slightly guilty thrill one gets from witnessing other people's merde.

I really do have to stop imagining everyone else has a better job than me.