“Some people are really sick. They call themselves Woke, latch on to a minority cause, acting as though they are totally for equality, and then actively discriminate against every other minority that’s not a part of said cause in the process. How stupid can you be? I mean… I know you deal with this crap all the time but…”
Julia sat in our living room this evening, actually shaking with fury. She was a bit upset over an encounter we’d had at the Hampton Diner with someone she’d grown up with who was apparently heavy into equal rights for women. End result? When the woman made a remark about how Julia would have done much better marrying someone else… Well… The little bitch and half the diner got an education they’ll probably never forget.
You could have heard a pin drop when Julia finished telling the woman off just before the place erupted with the sound of applause; some people actually giving her a standing ovation as one of the owners escorted the young lady and her friends out of the establishment, telling them all not to bother coming back. Apparently, he’d heard the conversation from start to finish and couldn’t believe that someone in any profession could think that way, let alone Mental Health.
I was in the men’s room when this all took place. But from what I gathered; it was quite the conversation. Or… Perhaps more like a mental lynching of sorts.
When I headed to the counter to pay the bill, having no clue as to what had happened while I was in the bathroom, I was informed that there was no bill to pay. When I asked why I was told, “We just really appreciate your business. No worries. We’ll see you again soon.”
I looked around at Julia when we were leaving, noticing she was shaking a bit and asked what was up. After we got in the RAM, she told me what I missed. I just looked at her and then said, “Thank you? But… Uh… Maybe we should leave the truck here and get an Uber home. Large amounts of horsepower and you in a pissed off mood don’t mix.”
“Don’t worry,” Julia then laughed. “I’ll be good. I promise.”
I knew that was bullshit the second I heard it and, a minute later… Well… Yeah… The transmission might need replacing before the lease on the truck expires, too.
Julia pulled out of the diner parking lot sedately enough. But when her old pal tried to pull up alongside and get Julia’s attention at an intersection… Yeah… The earth under the rear tires was a bit scorched.
“It’s not worth trashing an evening over,” I said quietly. “I know? But… I guess I’ve heard it one too many times of late and…” Julia then broke off for a moment and I could tell she was working to compose herself.
When she finally did, she continued, “That bitch is an insult to my profession. People like her working with people that really need help? That should never be allowed. It’s disgusting. It really makes me sick.”
Julia then went on, moving closer to me as she spoke, “Wokeism really is just political correctness that’s used as a whitewash an individual uses to cover up their own bias. I get it now. I really do. The first time I heard you say it… Well… I was like… What the hell is Brian talking about.”
Then Julia said, “But after tonight… The things she started to say to me…”
“Care to share?” I offered. I could tell Julia was shaking her head as she said, “You really don’t want to know.” Then Julia burst out, “That bitch is toast. If she thinks she’s going to continue working in the field she’s in she’s got another thing coming.”
“Julia? It’s not worth it. She got Her’s this evening,” I said. But Julia reached over and squeezed my hand saying, “No. She didn’t. She is probably on the phone with a lawyer friend of hers playing the victim. But… I have an idea.”
Julia then rose, walking towards her study door saying playfully, “I’ll meet you in the bedroom in an hour, ok?” She then turned to look at me and said warmly, “I just need to do this Brian. I promise you… This will end well.” Julia then went through her study door and closed it muttering under her breath, “For everyone but her.”
When she met me in the bedroom an hour later, she was in quite a good mood. I didn’t ask who she spoke to or what she had planned to do. That didn’t really take a rocket scientist to figure out when she casually mentioned that I’d be seeing a three-thousand-dollar payment made to an individual I knew was a private investigator.