Prince Charming

I met the most "CHARMING" man the other day at the recycling center.  Somehow I don't think quotes really denote enough sarcasm for this, but if you read on, you'll catch the actual meaning.

First, let me explain a couple of things.  I live in California, and in this lovely (swiftly swirling down the toilet bowl) state, we are literally FORCED to recycle our beverage containers.  Bottles, cans, etc. are all sold with an extra TAX, known as "CRV" ...California Redemption Value.  This tax is then refunded to the consumer at the recycle center.  SOOOO, cheapskate that I am, I religiously save and recylce our soda cans, water bottles, etc.

The process of recycling is a huge pain in the ass here.  There are recycling centers at about 1/10 of our local grocery stores, and most have very limited operating hours.  Add to this the fact that the people staffing the recycling centers are complete IDIOTS, and we basically just plan on using the automated machines every time we go.  And half the time, the automated machines are broken.

OK so now for Prince Charming.....
I arrived at the recycle center in the hottest part of the day - and it was abnormally hot.  Record-breaking.  106 degrees - not counting the extra heat radiating off the parking lot.

Mr. Prince Charming drove in right after I did, and he rushed to try to get in the recycle line before I could - but my tub of empty bottles and cans was already there, saving my spot while I retrieved the second tub from the trunk of my car.  I walked over and set that tub on top of the first one, and ignored the dirty look I got from the guy who was standing right behind my stuff.  The couple in front of me finished feeding their cans through the machine and left, and I stepped up and started putting my containers in.

This is when Prince Charming hollered, "Hey, you know I'm next, right?"  huh?  I ignored him at first, so he got louder, clearly agitated.  I turned so he could see my pregnant belly, hoping this would get him to back the F--- off, but it didn't work.  He was convinced that I had cut in front of him in line, and he wasn't backing down.

I said something vague about how I would be sure to hurry and get him his turn ASAP (trying to stay calm, but remember it was freaking HOT out there).  This is when he started with a STRING of profanities, everything from calling me a 'fatass bitch' to dropping the F-bomb.  A lot.  Instead of defending me, the loser employee at the recycle center made things worse.

At the end of the five minute tirade (which I mostly ignored, but I did respond a few times while I kept putting my cans and bottles into the machine) Prince Charming had the gall to inform me that *I* needed to get some manners.  Really?  You don't say?  I'm obviously not going wherever you went for YOUR manners, sir, because they clearly ran out before you got to the front of the line.  Unless, maybe, you were also too impatient to wait in that line?

I grabbed my cell phone and took a picture of the jerk's license plate, and tried to take a picture of him - but this is what I got:

Nice.

I tried again but he covered his face.  What, you're not proud of your behavior here this afternoon?

Picking on a pregnant woman in that heat - you ought to be ASHAMED of yourself!

Funny thing about this, I have a tendency to let people go in front of me in line all the time - like if I have a cart full of groceries and the person behind me only has one item, or maybe if I am shopping alone and there's a harried mom behind me with screaming kids who really NEED to get out of the store before the poor mom's head explodes.....so I thought I should have had pretty good "line Karma".   One of the things the jerk at the recycle center was ranting about was that 'what goes around comes around'....to which I gave him the sweetest smile I could muster and said, "I agree, and your kindness today will NOT be forgotten."

Jerk.

**Karma - or whatever you want to call it - did tip the scales back in my favor a couple days later, you can read about my positive 'line' experience HERE**