I stopped for gas before work, filled my tank and took a moment before pulling out to update my mileage log. Â The person behind me didn’t like this and honked and gave me the finger. Â I pulled forward, got out of my car. Â And walked towards the pump.
Me: May I help you, sir?
Angry Old Man: Yeah, you didn’t pull forward.
Me: I don’t think the moment I took to log my mileage was excessive.
Angry Old Man: You knew I was waiting and you sat there.
Me: If you were in a rush you could have taken any of the other open pumps.
Angry Old Man: You know what you are? Â Ignorant.
Me: Of what am I ignorant?
Angry Old Man: You’re just ignorant.
Me: That implies there’s something I’m ignorant of, of what am I ignorant?
Angry Old Man: I don’t talk to ignorant people, so I’m not going to answer.
*His female companion walks out of the gas station store* Her: What’s the matter?
Angry Old Man: Don’t talk to this man, honey, he’s ignorant.
Me: I don’t think that word means what you think it means.
Angry Old Man: *yells* IGNORANT!
I picture this man living his life using “ignorant” as his personal attack of choice in all cases. Â Someone cuts him off in traffic? Â IGNORANT. Â Problem with the IRS? Â IGNORANT. Â Neo-Nazis? IGNORANT. Â I feel like I need a word-club like this. Â Maybe I’ll just call everyone who wrongs me a Rosicrucian or persiflage.