Who You Callin a Bitch? The Karma Edition

Who you callin' a bitch?

This morning I was the recipient of Bitch Karma.

It started at the Trader Joe's on 3rd and Fairfax. I went in to get lunch supplies--kale salad and some apples--and when I was coming out, there was an older black man selling chocolate bars in the parking lot. As I approached him, I put my best "No I Am Not Buying Your Chocolate" face on, and then observed a 30-something white woman walk past me and start talking to him.

"Oh, you're selling chocolate?" she said. "Well, hmm...I'll give you $5, okaaay?"

I'm nosy so I did some hovering, pretending to be scrolling through my phone. He took her money and asked which bars she wanted.

"Oh noooo, I don't want the chocolate," she said. "I really have to watch my weight."

"Yeah, I know how it is for you women," our chocolate seller empathized, "but I wish I could keep some weight on me...times are hard, youknowwhatimsayin?"

She laughed and said, "Oh, well, I don't know about THAT...but I don't want YOU to think YOU get to eat this," she pointed at his box of chocolate, "just because I paid for it. You better give it to some nice teenager from the high school or something. And when you do, tell her it's from Susie."

Chocolate seller nodded like, okay lady, whatevs. Then she wagged her finger in his face. "Now, you better not try to get over on me and eat all this chocolate when I'm gone. Don't forget, give it away to someone. Pay it forward."

I should've taken a selfie of my face when I heard her say that cos for real, I was like,

The chocolate guy smiles and says, "No, I won't eat it, ma'am. Thank you."

"You better not eat it, because you didn't work for that chocolate," she continued. "You have to work for what you want in life, especially if you want to make something of yourself..."

At which point I couldn't take it anymore. I walked up to him and handed him $20.

"Hey, here's $20," I said. "I really can't eat that much chocolate...so how about you eat it all for me. Or sell it again. Or whatever."

And then I looked homegirl dead in her face. "You're a bitch," I told her, and stalked away to my car.

As I started the engine, I realized I felt simultaneously REALLY GOOD about telling her she was a bitch, cos seriously, who talks like that to someone?--but I also felt terrible. What does me telling her she's a bitch accomplish? Nada.

10 minutes later, I found myself in a Chevron parking lot, putting gas in my car and washing windows. A brotha putting gas in his BMW was all, "Hey, cutie."

Ignore.

"Hey, girl. I like your hat."

I'm wearing a red beret today. It is pretty fly. But, whatever. Ignore.

"Hey, what's your name?"

Ignore... and all you ladies know what happened next: "Oh, it's like that? Well fuck you then, bitch."

At which point I burst out laughing, prompting Mr. BMW to yell, "and you're crazy, too."

I laughed cos clearly, what goes around comes around. Even when it comes to people calling each other bitches.

Susie, wherever you are, I apologize for calling you a bitch. That said, next time you decide to give someone $5, please just hand the cash over and say, "Happy Holidays."

As for Mr. BMW, dear reader, I'm not totally reformed. I can only hope that someone else passes the karma along and calls him a bitch today, too.