Donald Trump Has Changed the Nature of Bullying. Twice.

Processing something that happened to me the Friday after the Tuesday.

Photo by Martin Wettstein on Unsplash

Waddle. Waddle. Waddle.

All I wanted at 7:30 am on the Friday after Donald Trump was elected again was some caffeine for the two-and-a-half roadtrip I had ahead of me. I came back out, my head totally on the drive ahead — and heard something.

Waddle. Waddle. Waddle.

I turned toward the voice, because I’m a woman of a certain age. Ignoring a man is difficult. That’s not easy to admit, but maybe other women older than 50 will know what I mean.

I turned toward the voice and my brain tried to make sense of what I’d heard.

Maybe he felt compelled to describe how a penguin walks. A duck? A goose?

Maybe he said good morning and my ADHD brain went all Charlie Brown’s teacher on me.

Maybe this elder millennial man wearing camouflage and an orange reflective vest, sitting cross-legged on a propane tank display, was just trying to get my attention.

So I turned around and I said, I’m sorry?

Because I’m a Gen-X woman and I was raised to apologize.