Memoir; Karen and the Supermarket

It was a Friday afternoon when I met her.

The supermarket had been fairly busy though I was leaving at this point, coffee in one hand, my infant son held by the opposite arm. I strapped my baby into his car seat inside my truck, and closed the door. As I stepped toward the driver's door of my vehicle, I saw a similar truck driving down the aisle, and beginning to pull into the parking spot approximately two spaces to the left of my position. 

I couldn't help but admire this person's truck - it was of the same make and trim as mine. The moment I had merely looked at that vehicle would soon cause a ruckus, so-to-speak. They drove forward and had accidentally parked center over the line of two spaces. They reversed and had gone forward again, unfortunately parking poorly once again. The window of the passenger side of that truck rolled down, to which I noticed two females; appearing to be a mother and daughter. The mother began to holler at me.

"Yeah? Go fuck yourself!" I was in total disbelief that she had just out-of-the-blue scolded me for no apparent reason. With my coffee still in hand, I elevated my shoulders and asked,
"Whoa, why are you yelling at me?" 

"You're watching me park like whatever, fuck you! Maybe if you didn't park like such an asshole I could park right!" She yelled. I glanced down to where the lines were positioned. I was parked parallel to the lines, pefectly centered. This woman was still parked over top of two parking spots. I looked up to her and tried to say that I, in fact, did not park like an 'asshole.'

"Oh really!? Just look at your parking, asshole! You know what, just get in your fucking truck and fucking leave." She demanded. Within seconds, the young woman in the passenger seat - presumably the daughter - spoke. 

"Yeah, just fucking get in your truck and fucking leave!" Now, this girl had to be no older than 14-16. For some reason, I had the biggest urge to fuel the fire, of which I absolutely gave in to. 

"Awe, you're standing up for your mommy!" I gleefully cooed, smiling almost cold-heartedly. Perhaps I would have been better off had I not said that statement, but it felt too good to miss out on. That was the moment the mother rushed out of her truck toward the front-end of it and began screeching in a high-pitched, wretched sound to me.

"How DARE YOU! DON'T YOU DARE EVER TALK TO MY DAUGHTER LIKE THAT, YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO SPEAK TO HER THAT WAY, YOU JUST DISRESPECT MY DAUGHTER CALLIHNG HER NAMES! LOOK AT ALL THESE PEOPLE THEY JUST SAW YOU DO THAT!" I looked across the parking lot to the two or three people watching, and none of them actually seemed to care about what this woman was shouting. I said that I did not call her daughter any names. The woman continued to holler in her response to me. 
"Yes you did! Do you even realize what you said? You asked her if she was standing up for her mommy like she's a child!" I giggled and said;

"Yes, yes I did ask her that. That isn't calling her a name. All I did was watch you park your truck and you started screaming at me." I then began to drink my coffee through the straw, still enjoying this show she had been putting on. The mother then hurried into her truck and put it in reverse, and I climbed into mine and prepared to leave. I had been slightly concerned she was going to do something drastic. As I latched my seat-belt, I saw her park the vehichle (correctly this time) and snatch her phone from the dash. 

Okay, I know what she's doing now. I'd thought to myself. I shift into reverse and began my departure when she took a photo on her cellphone of my license plate. She yelled;

"I've got your plates, asshole! I've got the police right under my sleeve!" She angrily stomped toward the store with her daughter, and as I went to leave I happily said,

"Have a good day, Karen!" and left, seeing only her middle finger in the air as a wave goodbye.