Those people

On Sunday, I went to the flea market. I stopped at one table with a display of jewelry that several women were admiring, including a few who were wearing flowing robes and headscarves.

I was taking my time, trying on several watches (that I needed like a hole in the head) (yes, I bought one. Seven bucks!), when I noticed that all of the other shoppers had cleared out. And that was when the elderly lady running the table leaned toward me and said, softly, "Oh! I don't like those people!"

Confused, I said, "Um ... those people?"

"You know!," she said. "Those ones!,"nodding her head toward the women wearing the robes, who were walking away with their children. "They never want to pay full price! They're rude! And if I stand my ground, they bring their mothers back with them!"

At this point, I was just kind of speechless. I know, right? When the hell does THAT ever happen? But really, I had nothin'. I probably should have pointed out that ninety percent of the flea market customers will haggle price, are rude, and would probably drag family members to the table if they thought it might get them a better price. And as far as that goes, ninety percent of the flea market customers are ALSO chainsmoking toothless hillbillies, which the women in the robes most decidedly were NOT.

I just ... I wasn't about to start trying to preach tolerance at a flea market to an eighty-year-old woman who was adamant in her beliefs. The LAST thing I need is to show up in the Police Blotter section of the Pennysaver because of an argument with a grandma at the junk show.

I just wish I had said something instead of "Um ... have a good day ..." as I walked away. And I wish I could figure out what I could have said to maybe change that woman's mind.

And maybe I'm just prejudiced against cranky-assed close-minded grandmas, the same way she's prejudiced against women in robes and headscarves. Maybe we both need to learn a little tolerance.

Nah. Just her.