Journal of a Living Lady #105

 

Nancy White Kelly

 

    Nobody likes me. Everybody hates me. Guess I’ll go eat worms. I think that is how the old rhyme goes. Always sounded like a pity-party to me. If you want to eat worms, go ahead. I am not going to stop you. I don’t have the time or inclination to console complainers forever. It’s life. Get on with it.

You probably guessed that diplomacy isn’t my strength. Sometimes it is hard to be honestly angry without being alienating.   

 Surely I have enemies, but no names or faces come to mind. I do owe an apology to one man for displaying a hostile attitude. This is one of those remembrances that nags at your conscience. I haven’t run into the man lately, but when I do,  I plan to ask his pardon.

The incident happened about four years ago.  In our town was a small video store. I seldom rent movies, but did have an account there.. 

     Without my permission, our adopted son, then a teenager, rented a movie at this store using my account name. Instead of returning the movie  that he rented, this son returned an espionage movie that I had personally bought. Though the son certainly knew better than to rent the movie on my account, I do believe the return mix-up was unintentional.

     About three weeks later I received a bill for an outrageous sum of money for past-due movie rental fees. Two hours later this unsympathetic mother was waiting at the bus stop, hands on both hips.

     I made the boy walk to the video store which was about a mile away with instructions to return the rented movie and to retrieve mine. He was given money to pay late fees for three days which was going to be repaid by his doing extra chores. When the weary teenager returned, he explained that the clerk wouldn’t negotiate the late fees. The rest of the money was still due.

      I felt the video store owner had taken advantage of the situation. The exorbitant past-due fees were probably more than the movie originally cost.. I reasoned that the owner should have notified me much sooner. Who rents a movie for three weeks?

     The next day, after church,  I returned to the video store hoping to have a mature adult discussion about the situation. I waited until all the customers were gone so we could talk freely about the hassles of irresponsible teenagers. I calmly explained the mix-up to the owner, expecting some sympathy and an adjustment to the late fees. To my surprise, he showed me another list of movies I had supposedly rented which were returned late with even more past-due fees. I had never seen any of those movies and wouldn’t have rented them anyway. “Red Hot Mama” isn’t my taste. The owner couldn’t produce a rental slip that I had signed or even a forgery to prove his claims.

     Hot words ensued.  Neither the shop owner nor I were profane, but we argued loudly. He basically threw me out of the store and told me to never return. I didn’t. Neither did I pay the other late charges. 

     The video store closed a few months afterwards. I don’t know where the owner went or if he ever discovered who had assumed my identity. I have my suspicions.  What I do know is that I didn’t leave the man with a very good impression of me.

     Some might think that this is no big deal. But to me it is. Somebody out there remembers a large women dressed in her Sunday best bellowing injustice to the top of her lungs.

       I don’t want to die with this lingering memory. If you are that man, call me. I need to talk with you. Please don’t make me eat worms.

 

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