Inflammatory Sass

I’m not sure what’s more disturbing, that my husband compared me to Hannibal Lechter or that I was actually flattered by it. While Hannibal Lechter may not seem like a logical choice when describing the future mother of your children, I believe he may actually have had a point and so I share it with you all.

According to my husband, I resemble the fictional Dr. Lechter in that I am perfectly fine to deal with until someone is rude to me. Much like Hannibal, I have very good manners and am consistently pleasant to deal with until someone crosses me, at which time I supposedly eat their face.

Now, while I have never actually eaten someone’s face, I have been known to display flares of temper in response to mistreatment. If I’m in traffic, I will gladly let you into my lane unless you shove yourself into my lane, stop short, and force me to slam on my brakes to avoid hitting you.

If this is your M.O., I’ll probably find a way to make your regret your foolish choice. Most likely by finding a way to get in front of you and then positioning my car in just such a way as to ensure that you can neither go the speed limit nor pass me (the best way to do this is on a two-lane road. Position yourself in the left lane, preferably next to a slow-moving truck in the right lane. Then, go just slightly faster than the truck, but not enough to enable the jerk behind you to pass. Do this for at least a mile and you will have exacted your revenge.)

The reason Wes brought up my apparently Lechter-esque response to rudeness is that I was spitting fire after grocery shopping due to an inept checker at Safeway. The guy took literally seven minutes (I know because I covertly timed him) to bag the groceries of the woman in front of me and then royally screwed up my order.

He neglected to include the creamer that I paid for in my grocery bags and charged me twice for $11 worth of ground beef (both of which remained undiscovered by me until I got home.) He also flashed me attitude when I asked him to remove an item from my order that I asked him not to ring up until I knew my order total. In short, he was a bumbling, inept fool who had no business giving me any kind of sass.

I was pretty annoyed when I got home and promised Wes I’d go clear up the duplicitous ground beef charge and disappearing creamer incident the next day. Clear it up I did, and Wes didn’t seem at all surprised to learn that I didn’t rip the customer service rep a new one for the sheer inconvenience of having to return to the store.

I asked him why he wasn’t surprised and he replied with his now-infamous Hannibal Lechter comment. The comment makes sense though, at least to me. Barring the obvious psychopathic aspect of Hannibal’s nature, he’s really very polished, polite, and well-mannered as long as the people with whom he has to deal remember their manners.

Now I’m curious about you: What is your tolerance for offense? Are you the kind of person who can get dizzy from all the turn-the-other-cheeking you’re capable of or do you respond to offense in much the same way that gunpowder responds to heat?

2 thoughts on “Inflammatory Sass

  1. I am the epitomical apotheosis of charm, class and good manners until someone presses a button. Almost three decades later and I’m still trying to predict what those buttons are…

  2. -Dane, I do love a good apotheosis :) I agree that your manners are exemplary and, though I have not witnessed the results of a pushed button, I’m certain that your fiancee might be able to give you clarity on what your buttons might be. After that many years together, I’m certain she herself has pushed a few :)

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