The Encounter
A simple “excuse me” and the conflict that followed.
I share this story not to spark debate but because it happened to my son, and it stayed with him—and with me. It’s about courtesy, misunderstanding, and how one stranger’s kindness can matter in the middle of conflict.
Part 1: Encounter
I feel compelled to write about what happened today. My son had an encounter with a stranger at Aldi’s. Typically, I’d begin with who he is—so you’d understand him before the judgment, the finger-pointing, the rants. But no—encounter first.
Checkout Line
A woman with long hair in a baggy sweatsuit was blocking the way to an open register.
“Excuse me, Miss,” my son said.
Silence. She didn’t turn.
“Excuse me, Miss.”
Still nothing.
An older woman in her seventies, blonde and petite, called from the next line:
“I’ll move my cart so you can get by this way.”
“That’s alright. Thank you, though. I don’t want to make everyone else move their carts. Excuse me. Miss?” my son said again.
The person finally turned—mid-thirties, nose pierced, angry.
“How dare you misgender me?”
A bearded man at a nearby register, clearly with the person, walked over.
“They don’t like to be misgendered.”
The person snapped:
“This is the problem with this world. You are a dumbass redneck just like the rest of them.”
The bearded man backed them up:
“Super disrespectful.”
The older woman cut in, her voice sharp:
“How dare you two. At least someone has manners nowadays.”
My son, fed up:
“Are you fucking kidding me?” He pushed the cart out of the way and moved to the open scanner.
Exit
The older woman was waiting. She followed him out to his truck.
“You are not the problem with the world. It’s them. Take a deep breath and try to enjoy the rest of your day.”
He exhaled, grateful.
“Thank you. You as well.”
He got in, started his truck, and called me.
Phone Call
My ringtone for him is Stewie from Family Guy: “Mommy. Mom. Mama.” It makes my day every time.
He and his wife both work full-time. Their weekends are jam-packed with repairs and errands. They have a three-year-old daughter (yes, I’m biased, but she’s perfect) and a six-month-old German Shepherd puppy.
“Hi sweetheart, how’s it going?”
He unloaded; he needed to get it out, but first: coolant leaks, car parts, diesel for the house, and a broken lawnmower plate. Typical. And then—Aldi’s.
“I was so upset, angry, and shocked. I was being polite. I didn’t mean anything by saying ‘miss.’ I was shaking when I got back to my truck.”
I know my son. He was shaken. And I am deeply grateful to the older woman who not only spoke up in that checkout line but also followed him outside to make sure he was okay. That mattered.
Part 2: Reflection
The Reflection
Why courtesy matters, and why contempt is never alright.
We talked through it. What else could he have said? Maybe just “excuse me.” But that sounds curt. “Excuse me, you” sounds rude. A tap on the shoulder? Absolutely not.
It could have gone differently. The person could have turned and said, “I go by they.” My son would have nodded, apologized, and asked them to move their cart. Simple. Done.
But it didn’t go that way. Instead, he carried home the weight of being told he was “the problem with this world.”
About My Son
My son is thoughtful and caring. In elementary school, he was sent to the principal’s office once—because he defended a boy with Down syndrome from bullies. He volunteered with Best Buds in high school.
He is funny, hardworking, loyal, and a devoted father.
He has thick skin, he’s tough, and he’s brave.
And in that moment at Aldi’s, he was just trying to say “excuse me.”
What Stays
This isn’t a story about politics. It’s about what happens when courtesy collides with misunderstanding. How quickly words can escalate. How a stranger’s kindness can steady someone after a public conflict.
We all stumble with language. Repair is possible if both sides want it.
But it is not alright for courtesy to be met with contempt, for assumptions to turn into accusations.
My son’s instinct was respect. What I hold onto is that—even in the middle of conflict—a stranger chose kindness.
My son deserved better. We all do.