Rotten Youth of America

Dear Girl Exiting the St. Louis Bread Co.,

Hi. You may not have noticed me as I held the door open for you, but I sure did notice you! You were walking at normal speed, sure that I would open the door to allow you to pass, and since I'm a nice girl, I did indeed open that door. That's when you breezed out like royalty and completely ignored innocent ol' me. Well, you may have ignored me, sister, but I got a good look at you.

Nice gym shorts. And, child, I would have been haughty were I dressed to kill in McQueen, but you, my dear, were attired in a ratty tee and the aforementioned gymwear. No makeup or hair to speak of, and believe me, cherie, that was a risk. Yet, with all this working against you, you still had the nerve to act like the world owed you that opened door. You sauntered out like you were leaving a trail of broken hearts in your wake, but in reality, little one, you were being trailed by what looked like refugees from a sale at Goodwill who kindly thanked me (and please note they were of your age group and were probably in your class).

Speaking of class, by the location and your attire, I'd guess you were a student at a local girl's Catholic high school. Just a note on your academy of higher learning: when I was selecting my school, I passed over yours because on the tour they chose to highlight the fact that home economics was required. Ahh...that's class.

So, you little twerp, next time you act like a bitch, don't be surprised if I'm there to trip you.

Sincerely,
OAA

(Dear readers - she totally deserved this to her face, but I had to get back upstairs to work.)