Today, I killed a baby and I don’t care. That’s right! I’m a disassociated, apathetic, psychopathic cold-blooded killer of babies. Lock me up!  What happened?

I know you want to know all the gory details. Your pseudo-intellectual ego tells you that you must explore the dark side in order to truly understand the human condition. But, I know you just like rollercoaster rides and what you really want is something horrific to shock and awe you out of your drab dull existence.

Well, here it is. This morning, the temperature was an unseasonably cold, crisp 57 degrees Fahrenheit. This might not mean anything if you live in the North, but in Miami, Florida this temperature drop is unusual this time of year. Especially since Monday the mercury reached 95 degrees. Anyway, a day like today is just perfect if you want to make a killing in cold blood.

But I digress; I know you want the gore, so I will bore no more. I left for work and remembered that it was my turn to buy the coffee for the department. Our generous company supplies us with free coffee, but you have to be a hardened cubicle commando to drink that stuff. So some of us in my department have decided to buy flavored coffee and share a pot in the morning. We do this in a very communal manner. Whenever we run out, someone steps to the plate, I mean pot, and he or she purchases a bag. No coffee funds. No guilt trips.

There is a supermarket on my way to work so I stopped to buy the coffee there. This supermarket is of part a large chain that is a true Florida original. I shop at this supermarket all the time, but not at this particular store. This supermarket chain has a strong sense of social responsibility and they are always supporting some local or national charity. This month they are helping out the March of Dimes.

I selected the coffee and walked over to the checkout lane. The cashier greeted me with an automatic, “Good morning.” She scanned my coffee. In a robotic manner, she said, “$4.99.” I reached for my wallet. Then it happened in an instant.

And trust me, these things do happen in an instant like Folgers crystals, I turned from a happy go-luck tanuki enjoying the Road of Happy Destiny to a cold-blooded baby killer. As I pulled out my wallet, the cashier in a voice with a hell of lot less animation than an automated tech-support helpline said, “Would you like to save a baby’s life with a one dollar donation?” I looked at her with my dead, stone-cold hazel eyes and said, “No, thanks. Not today!”

What turned me into a heartless baby-stabber was not her apathy. Having worked in retail, I can empathize with someone having to repeat the same thing over and over all day to the point it loses its punch. It’s like cursing. If you curse all the time, the words lose their impact. What got me was the line, “Would like to save a baby’s by donating a dollar.” What Camp M-B-A marketing maven came up with that one?

I hate it when people try to guilt trip me.  It doesn’t work!

I am a somewhat generous soul who supports several non-profit organizations on a regular, and I actually give money to the homeless dudes on the corner knowing that they will soon be buying substances they need to support the monkey on their backs.

I am also an active member of a 12-step program that requires that I work with those seeking recovery. This means, I give a lot of my time and limited resources to helping others and my community.

So please Mr. /Ms. Public Relations Wizard don’t come up with poignant catch-phrases for zoned-out supermarket cashier to repeat like some brain-washed cult devotee.

To quote, Dennis Miller, “I Rant, Therefore I Am.”

© Trudge164, 2009