Esther McCarthy: Rudeness requires a rapid-fire retort — and sometimes, a little kindness

Alas, age, hormones, and the realisation that the effort of the perfectly-timed bon mot is mostly wasted on morons have dulled my fervour for backchat.

These days, I find if someone is being a bit of an arse, simple good humour, and a little bit of grace usually do the trick.

And besides, as I tell my kids, you never know what someone is going through, so let’s give them the benefit of the doubt.

For example, I was shopping with one of the kiddos and two of their friends recently, and to be fair, they were being a bit boisterous but nothing obnoxious, mind, just a little high-jinxy, if you know what I mean.

Like, they were pretending the tomatoes were characters from a video game and cracking themselves up doing the voices.

This lady was giving us the evils before we even got to the bakery section, I could feel the daggers from her over in the veggie aisle, arguably the chillest of all the aisles, after, obviously, the frozen food section.

“Some people confuse supermarkets for creches,” she said loudly.

“Kill them with kindness,” is a proverb attributed to Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, a rather catchy tune by Selena Gomez, and pretty sound advice 99% of the time when someone is being a gobsheen.

So I whisper to the boys to do ‘the eyes’ which my own fella quickly explains is this magical thing he can do that makes me instantly melt. 

Think Puss in Boots in Shrek crossed with Gizmo.

It started as a joke when he was little, we’d pretend he could hypnotise me with his dreamy hazel peepers, and he’d get me to do his bidding.

“Gah!” I’d cry, “not THE EYES!” And then I’d find myself doing his section of the dishwasher or reading one more page of our bedtime story or whatever it was he was trying to mesmerise me into, or get himself out of.

So they all twirl towards the lady and hit her with a triple whammy. 

Reader, it was a thing of beauty, like watching Zoolander’s proteges breaking out a new pose. 

The combined power of three ridiculously cute little smoodgey, pudgy faces in their sweet little uniforms with their ties askew, like tiny liitle businessmen after a tough day at the office, laser gazing in perfect synchronisation... did absolutely nothing to change auld sourpuss’ demeanor.

Heart of stone, I whispered, somewhat in awe, as she stalked off, possibly to go kick a kitten somewhere. 

The boys moved on to playing the bananas like saxophones, and we all got on with our day.

But there is the 1% of the time where a bit of pushback is necessary, when the perfect comeback should be holstered, ready to be unleashed in times of emergency. 

CASUAL VEX IN THE CINEPLEX

We were in a cinema queue not too long ago, and as usual have a couple of extra last minute add ons so I go to the desk to try and figure what ticket combo makes most fiscal sense and these two dudes are behind me, waiting for snacks.

The snack bar and the tickets are being looked after by the same one member of staff, and she is working hard.

Big sighs and shuffling of feet from the boys behind escalate to muttering to each other, which in turn leads them to ask: “What’s the hold up?”

I smile at the cashier and waggle my eyebrows a bit.

Eugene Levy is only trotting after me. I haven’t landscaped for a while, I’m giving serious Bert from Sesame Street vibes. She smiles back.

“We’re going to miss the start of our fillum if they don’t hurry up,” says Huffy to Grumpy.

The young woman is waiting for the machine to refund me, and bouncing us all over to family tickets. She is a pet.

“That girl doesn’t know how to use a simple maaachine. WOULD THEY FECKING HURRY UP.”

Whelp.

I turn around slowly, with a smile on my mouth, but crucially, not in my eyes.

“Are ye all right there, lads?”

“Why didn’t you just book online? You’re holding everyone up,” puffs Huffy. They are the only ones in the queue.

“Our fillum is starting NOW, we’re going to miss the trailers.”

And then came the clincher.

“Typical bloody women.” He spits the word “women” out with such disdain.

Whelp squared, dudes.

“Make sure you buy some popcorn, it’s got lots of fibre. You men obviously need more of it in your diet, because ye are full of shite.”

Is what I wish I’d said. But I only came up with it half way through the movie. Darn it!

At the time, I contend with going full Grandpa Simpson on their baggy jeans asses, give ‘em a frrrrownin’ of a lifetime, and then turn slower than a rotisserie chicken and ensure my ticket requests take so long they huff and they puff more than Thomas the Tank Engine. 

They definitely missed those trailers.