A Real Man

He looked to be in his late 60's or early 70's. Once quite tall, he slowly moved hunched over. I realized he stood in my coworker's checkout line, oblivious to the fact her closed sign was up.

"Sir, she is closed, but I can help in over in my line." I only had one customer in front of him, it would only take a second.

"That's a terrible way to do business. Not enough workers. Having to wait in long lines. Terrible!" I heard him grumble as he slowly made his way to my line.

When it was his turn, he placed a large, old fashioned metal fire-truck in front of me.

"That's on sale right?"

"Actually, it isn't this week sir—"

"Doesn't matter!" He interrupted "I get what I want. This store is terrible. I don't see how you stay in business like this. Terrible!"

"I'm sorry for your wait sir. We are short handed tonight."

"NEVER APOLOGIZE!" He barked at me "That is a sign of weakness! It is!"

I am sorry sir. I'm sorry that you are trapped into still being the bully on the playground. I am sorry for the needlessly difficult life you have clearly led. I am sorry that you have lived this long on the earth and still don't understand the first thing about authentic, masculine strength. I am sorry—because I can be, and I think I am more whole because of it.