life

What I needed was a witty retort.

On Sunday, Mr. Interrupted’s grandmother took us (including his 4 cousins, aunt, uncle, father, father’s wife, and one of the cousin’s bride-to-be) all out to have brunch at “The Club”. Now, there are two things you need to know. First, I am not a “The Club” person. I am descended from a long and proud line of emphatically blue collar folk. I may be the first person in my family history to ever have brunch at “The Club”. Second, no one told us we’d be going to brunch at “The Club” so I failed to pack appropriate “The Club” clothing for myself, the children, and Mr. Interrupted. He and I wore jeans and a nice top. The kids wore jeans and their snow boots. We arrived, feeling festive and ready to eat and socialize. After they took our drink orders, I took the boys up to the buffet line to get them some food. It was then that Some Woman approached me and said, “Excuse me, just so you know for next time, jeans are against The Club rules.” Of course I apologized and explained that I didn’t know we’d be coming to “The Club” today. It’s possible that I said something that sounded sarcastic like, “well, if I’d known…” Whatever. But after a while I realized that I felt really embarrassed about not having the proper attire and mortified that someone thought they had to tell me about it. I was so embarrassed that, since the dining area was filled with snooty, jacket-wearing “The Club” members, I didn’t go back to the buffet for more food, even though I was still hungry, or for any dessert, even though I really wanted to try their carrot cake which looked very sinful and delicious. I just felt too uncomfortable and unwelcome.

Now, a day later, I’m angry. I mean, why should I have to apologize for how I was dressed for gods’ sake? It’s not like I was all schlobby in torn sweat pants and a dirty tee-shirt. Geez. And I keep wishing I’d said something to that woman to turn the tables on her–to make her feel bad and embarassed, but I can’t think of anything appropriately scathing and hilarious. Any suggestions?

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7 thoughts on “What I needed was a witty retort.

  1. Excuse me, mam. Did you know that the definition of good manners is never making one feel ill at ease? You must know that for me to be in this situation means that I was unaware, unprepared, from out of state and yet polite to my hosts who have failed to see the predicament they have put me in. Yet, I have good manners and would never let my hosts know of my acute humiliation in this situation, one that you have so rudely underscored.

    I see you are here without your family. Why am I not surprised? Perhaps are you more concerned about how others are dressed than you are about connecting with family?

  2. I would have strutted my jeans to the buffet more times than I was hungry for just to anger her at that point.

    That’s just ridiculous.

  3. Good freakin’ grief. Something along the lines of, “well, at least I don’t look like an uptight b*tch,” would have been in order. Granted, I think I would have been in too much shock to say anything at all. I hate snotty people.

  4. I thought of this: Ask for the bitches name, then when she gives it, or asks why, reply “I like to know who is judging me.”

    My SO suggests that you feign abject ignorance and horror. “Oh noes! No jeans? Oh I am SO SOO sorry!” and then promptly remove your jeans on the spot, and commence the rest of your time there in your panties.

  5. I’m with Alex. People who don’t realize that good manners were invented to help people get along are clueless.

    And the rich who think they are better than everybody are just plain not worth the effort of a good comeback anyway.

    Sorry she made you uncomfortable. Wish you could have at least made her realize how rude she was being, while still getting to enjoy the yummy food.

  6. I commend Alex; that’s it in a nutshell. Now that I’m Advanced in Age (and no longer afraid of “confrontations”) I believe I’d have said, “I am not a member, I am a guest, and this visit was a gift for which I was unprepared.” Then – what I would have THOUGHT is, “I am clean and modestly-dressed, and while I can change my apparel I believe you’re stuck with your abject and unalloyed rudeness, does the Club approve of that?” I feel terrible, though, that you were denied the pleasure of the event (which your hosts had desired for you) because of an ill-bred harridan.

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