At work...
Often, sitting in the bookstore on slow Sundays, I get a little Kitchener "colour". You know the type (if you're local). A little smelly. A little dirty. Kinda boozy. No plan to buy anything, just plans to warm up a littleThis one was a little rude and, opposed to engaging in conversation, felt a need to declare a list of inaccurate statements about me. (ie. "Well, if you're part Scottish, then you must hate yourself." Uh... No.)
I feel it's perfectly within my bounds to (in a disturbingly polite and tactful manner) verbally persuade these people to not be in the store.
I'd be curious to hear thoughts and opinions on my classism.
Oh. He also threw a penny at me on his way out.
I feel it's perfectly within my bounds to (in a disturbingly polite and tactful manner) verbally persuade these people to not be in the store.
I'd be curious to hear thoughts and opinions on my classism.
Oh. He also threw a penny at me on his way out.