It bothers me.
It bothers that it happened twice on one day.
I ought to be bigger than that. I ought to shrug it off. Outwardly, I do. Inwardly I seethe. It bothers me. Knocks my self-esteem.
In the morning I was standing at the bus stop smoking. Some schoolies approached me and asked - not rudely, not politely - if I had a spare cigarette. "No," I replied in neutral tones, neutral facial expression, neutral body language. I didn't say "There's a shop round the corner sells them." I didn't say "Do I look like I'm suddenly going to give up smoking halfway through today?" I didn't say "Fuck off you scavvy parasite." I just said no. Neutrally.
And they stood there chortling, mocking me, repeating 'no' as if it was the funniest thing they had heard. I might not be the trendiest thing on earth, but I was by no means the untrendiest at that bus-stop on that morning. Did they want me to be confrontational, tell them to go fuck themselves, add to the justification for their massive shoulder chips.
Later on the train. Next stop some schoolies got on. Maybe Sixth Formers, certainly old enough for Saturday shop jobs. I was on the outside of the otherwise empty six-seater. Three of them sat inside me, the fourth sat in the opposite, otherwise empty four-seater, and proceeded to talk to her three friends inside of me. I say talk, but let's cut the crap, she was squawking raucously.
With open body language and non-confrontational tone, I said "Oh, d'you want to swap seats?"
"Nah, 'salrigh'" she replied and continued her raucous squawking.
"I don't particularly like people talking across me," I said, again, neutrally, non-confrontationally. She sniggered. I stood up and without saying a word, moved to another sixer at the other end of the part-carriage. I passed a woman in her twenties in a four-seater, who smiled supportively at me. I sat diagonally opposite a railway employee who briefly opened his eyes to give a small smile of sympathy. I read. The schoolies continued squawking at high volume. "Like, no one tells me where I'm gonna talk. Like what knowhatimeaninnit. Like I talk where I wanna talk." And that horrible laugh. It's not really a laugh. It's not a chortle. Or a snigger. It's forced. It's an exhibition of disdain, supercillious. Over what?
I tell myself they don't matter. One day they'll grow up. One day their mouths will get them into trouble. I remember girls like that from when I was at school. They were not well liked. I did nothing wrong. I had the tacit support of other reasonable adults. I did not make a big deal, I did not call them names. I like to think that in some small way they realised I was, in this context, better than them. But I doubt it.
And they achieved what they wanted, they knocked my self-confidence. They made me feel inadequate.
Why?
I don't need the affirmation of the ignorant to make me feel good about myself, so why should their disapproval make me feel bad? Should I have just ignored them, let them squawk across me without batting an eyelid? Should I have meekly handed over a cigarette or five in the morning?
Or would I have looked bigger and cooler in their eyes if I had launched forth with a stream of foul-mouthed invective (and I bet my foul-mouthed vocab is more extensive than theirs)? Why is it that the tiny number of morons can make me feel that way when the buses and trains are packed with people of all ages, including teens, quietly going about their business, not attracting my attention and my ire?
