Today, my three coworkers and I went out to lunch. We went to a fast-food joint.
After we all had our food we sat down at a table and began to eat. And naturally, we talked while we ate. At some point I dropped an f-bomb, prompting my boss to tell me to watch my language, not because he’s offended (he’s as foul-mouthed as I am) but because there were some children at a table close to us.
I didn’t shout the word (as a matter of fact I said it more softly than the rest of my sentence because we were out in public), but I would’ve been even more careful had I known there was a child close by.
However, at the time I didn’t know that so I made some joke and called him “dad” and then we went on with our meal.
Before I continue my story, you need to understand what kind of man my boss is. He’s, well, a good ol’ boy. He was born and raised on a farm and is hard-core Republican. So he is a gun-totin’, Bible-thumpin’, queer-hatin’, shoot-first-ask-questions-later kinda guy.
Later, as we were leaving the restaurant he wanted to clarify that he wasn’t trying to be “dad” but trying to stop me from getting my ass kicked.
Apparently the kids I never knew were there also were sitting with their grandfather, who I also didn’t know was there. Apparently this grandpa was giving me a look like “he was gonna kick your ass.”
So first of all, I thanked him for assuming an old man could kick my ass. Then I called him “dad” again. Let’s be real. I know there are some unhinged people out there, but to really think that someone’s going to start a fight because of an f-bomb? In front of his grandchildren to boot? Right. And I said as much to him.
“It’s a different world out here. It ain’t like the city,” he dumbly explained.
First of all, we were in a city when this all happened. And this city is a suburb of Cincinnati. It’s not exactly BFE. Yeah, there’s a lot of farmers that come into town because it’s an outlier suburb, but it’s still a suburban area. Secondly, are you really suggesting people are going to prove their moral superiority by attempting to kick my ass? How asinine. What would you rather your grandchild subjected to; a lowly spoken swear word or a fucking fist fight? Is this the thought process of these people?
Had I kept swearing loud enough for this grandpa to hear it more than likely all that would have happened would be that the grandpa would’ve angrily asked me to stop swearing. I would have then turned around and realized that the children were there and acquiesced. I wouldn’t want people speaking like that around my young children so I wouldn’t speak like that around other children. Of course, the twins are almost 13 so my PG filter has been removed, but I digress.
On the ride back to work my boss was telling stories about how he’d seen fights break out over such stupidity as someone uttering a swear word and referred to rednecks fighting as “Saturday night games.” Yeah, that sounds like fun. Is that really all there is to do in these small towns? Hey, let’s get drunk and beat the crap out of each other! Good times.
Of course I take everything he says with a grain of salt because, hey, he’s full of shit. This is a guy that thrives on telling grandiose stories that seem to take eternity to end. He always says every problem can be resolved with a shotgun blast, which of course he doesn’t actually do otherwise he’d be in jail. And for the three years I’ve known him he keeps telling me the revolution is coming. He’s been hoarding guns and food at his house (allegedly) preparing for the next civil war. Everything is a conspiracy against him.
So let this be a lesson to you city folks. The next time your stop at a restaurant out in the boonies watch your mouth. Some good ol’ boy might whip your ass.
- Will Swearing Harm Your Child? (psychologytoday.com)