Mean Mr. Bagel

After my last two posts about how much I hate Vampire Diaries and scrubby guys, you can officially call me ‘annoyed-at-the-world’. As my awesome neighbor Nathasha says, “I hate people!” She usually says that when there are too many people crowded around her or when she’s just annoyed, but I know what she means.

There’s one thing I don’t understand about people: HOW can they be so mean?

The other day, I was running late, and on my way to school. I toasted my very last bagel, spread some Philly cheese over it, and headed out the door. I met my neighbor Nathasha in the hallway, and we left the apartment building.

So I was holding one half of the bagel in my right hand, and eating the other half with my left hand. Nathasha and I were chatting about how late we were going to be for classes as I was finishing the first half of my bagel. And just as we go around the corner of a building, this MEAN MEAN MEAN man, shoved me.

My remaining bagel half, Philly cheese side down, fell onto the FILTHY ground.

Now, during the first few seconds, I was very upset because:
1) I LOVE toasted bagels and Philly cheese spread just as much as I love cereal.
2) It was my last bagel.
3) I was starving.
4) It was raining.
5) The ground was dirty.

But then! I turn around, and the MEAN MEAN MEAN man, turns around and looks at me, and continues on. So then, with all the fury invested in me, I was like, OH HELL NAW. And I shouted, “HEY!!!!! DON’T YOU KNOW HOW TO SAY YOU’RE SORRY?!”
The guy turned around, and blinked at me for three seconds. And then has the NERVE to say, “You were talking with your friend! You weren’t looking where you were going!”


Because I’m nice and well behaved and sad, I gave him a death stare, kissed my teeth and walked off starving, with Nathasha laughing at the whole scene.
The bagel incident ruined my day. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. You know why?
Because I couldn’t fathom just WHY that man didn’t even apologize! Would it have hurt him just to say “sorry”? I wouldn’t have gotten mad if he actually muttered the word. But he didn’t. He looked at the bagel, and didn’t even say sorry! Even worse, he gave an excuse for why he didn’t say sorry. And I hate bad excuses.

I mean really, every time I step on someone’s foot, interrupt someone, poke someone, make something fall, do anything to someone, I automatically say ‘sorry’ because that’s what my parents taught me.
And that’s when the goodness in my heart started to poke at my conscience. I began to wonder things like, “What if he’s a father? What if he’s a grand father? What if he’s absent minded? What if he’s mute? What if he had a very bad morning?”

But then the realistic side of me yelled, “SO WHAT?! If he’s a father or grandfather, he’s a bad one for not saying sorry! If he’s absent minded, I would’ve gotten his attention by yelling! If he was mute, he could have sign-languaged ‘sorry‘ to me! If he had a bad morning, well… it couldn’t be HALF as bad as mine without my bagel with Philly cheese :(

So that’s the story of Mean Mr. Bagel (yes, it’s a pun from ‘Mean Mr. Mustard‘ by the Beatles). And then Michael surprised me with four more bagels and two boxes of Philly cheese because he’s awesome.



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