Going Slap Happy

Here's another story, from 2003. I hope you like it.

Going Slap Happy

Driving to work last week, I witnessed one of the most peculiar sights I had ever seen. I rarely drive more than 10 miles over the speed limit, and I slow it down a bit in my local community because our police officers hand out the speeding tickets left and right. I was driving on a residential road that was a 45-mph zone, so I was cruising around 52 when I noticed a silver Ford Mustang convertible in my rear-view mirror. She had quickly changed from a shiny blip in the distance to an angry aggressive driver right on my rear bumper. With an angry grimace, she abruptly switched lanes and passed me on the left, throwing me an angry look and the middle finger.

“What an asshole,” I thought, and returned to my driving.

However, when she made this abrupt lane change, she cut off a driver in a Lincoln Continental. He roared his V-8 engine to life and caught up with her fairly quickly. Since I had picked up some speed, I was fairly close to the driver of the Mustang and was startled to see the Lincoln Continental abruptly swerve in front of her, squeal on his brakes, and jump out of his car. I hit my brakes quickly too so I wouldn’t run into the car, and I wondered if I might need to stick around as a witness. The man looked to be in his early sixties and he was royally pissed. The girl tried to back up the car but she was sandwiched in, and she quickly put on an angry front.

“What the hell do you want, old man?”

His face red with anger, he stomped around to her door. As a point of note, I must tell you that the convertible top was down and she didn’t have time to raise it.

“You stupid bitch – you cut me off! What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Look, asshole, I’m in a hurry. Now get away from me!”

I knew this was about to get very ugly, so I reached for my cell phone. Privately, I wished he would really tell her off, since I really hate drivers who are dangerously aggressive and always in far too much of a hurry. No wonder our insurance rates are so high. I didn’t like the look of the situation brewing in front of me… but I was curious to see what would happen next. Fortunately, neither of them saw me at first. I eased down my window.

“I’m not going to take this from you!” And much to my startled surprise – not to mention that of the girl in the car – he drew back his hand and slapped her soundly on the left side of the face. Her blond head swiveled sharply to one side and she let out a sharp yelp. She then spun back around and started screaming at him.

“You bastard – I’m going to sue your ass! You can’t get away with this! See this – I’m calling the cops!”

He smiled at her.

“Oh, but yes. See this?” He held up a small card.

She looked at it and groaned. “Don’t tell me you have one of those. This is so unfair.”

“No one ever said that life is fair, Toots. Now hurry up and get the cops on the phone so I can cash in this card and we can both get on our way.”

“Do I have to stay?” She was plaintive now. “I really need to get going and I really don’t want a ticket.”

“Well…” His voice trailed off. He looked up for the first time and saw me.

“You there!” I thought he was going to slap me next, so I quickly rolled up the window. He rushed over to me.

“No, I’m not going to hit you. If you’re not in a hurry, I’d appreciate your staying. I take it you saw the whole thing.”

The girl took a chance and gunned her engine, leaving us in a cloud of dust. I rolled down my window.

“No problem – I was late a long time ago. Sorry to pry, but I had to see what was going to happen. What kind of card is that?”

He showed it to me. It was a small laminated card with the words, “YOU’VE EARNED A FREE SLAP” printed across the top. I had never seen one of these before nor heard of the program. I asked him for more details.

“I’m not sure how you get them. It’s for doing good deeds, I guess. I turned in a wallet at WalMart and I got it in the mail within a few days. It’s a new pilot program to see if they can curb the rudeness of society. At least, that’s what the letter said. Here – I have it in my wallet if you’d like to read it.” Eagerly, I took the wrinkled and creased piece of paper from his hand. Here’s what it said:

July 2, 2003

Mr. (name deleted to protect the innocent)
9999 Something
Anytown, TX 00000

Dear Mr. (name deleted):

Because of your good deed, the store manager at Wal-Mart
recommended you for the “Free Slap” program. This card
entitles you to one free slap. There are some rules:

• You may not slap anyone over 70 or younger than 12 years of age.
• You are only allowed one slap, so make it count. Severe damage may not be caused, so don’t slap too hard.
• You must administer the slap in public so witnesses can verify your actions.
• If police and/or security guards approach, you must surrender the card immediately.
• This card does not expire.
• The slapping can only take place within the city boundaries of (name deleted to protect the innocent).
• Violation of any of these rules will result in arrest, fines, and possible jail time.
• You must slap because of an injustice or rude treatment. You can’t just slap someone based on appearance, race, religion, sexual orientation, or build.

We hope you enjoy your “Free Slap” card and use it appropriately. This program is a new program instituted by the city of (name deleted to protect the innocent) to curb the general rudeness and inconsiderate nature of today’s society.

Happy slapping!

Warmest regards,

(Name deleted to protect the innocent)
WalMart SuperCenter
9999 Something
Anytown, TX 00000

Noticing that I was still holding my cellphone, I called the police and told them that I had witnessed a slap. Since I was kind enough to take time out of my day and help the city with this program, I was given the man’s “free slap” card. The officer took my personal information and notated it on a pad, along with the card’s number. I asked the officer if he had noticed a rise in courtesy and politeness, and he said that he had seen some isolated spots where things were getting “a little nicer,” but everyone else was still pretty crabby.

I drove on to work with my “Free Slap” card and my letter tucked into my wallet. I told my boss because I had to explain why I was late, and she was astonished that such a program existed. I took a lot of ribbing about it at our staff meeting. “Don’t disagree with Scott – he’ll slap you and it’s legal.”

In a way, I felt empowered. I’m usually a very nice person and I usually let the typical rudeness of society roll off my back. However, I now felt confident enough to deal with any rude store clerk or person-at-large because I could now do something about it. My partner was dumbfounded and convinced that I would never use it. He said as much to our friends.

Well, now the gauntlet had been thrown. Sometime in the near future, someone was going to get a good slap.

Over the next few days, I saw more than my usual share of slapping. It almost looked like a Three Stooges reunion. I don’t know where these cards came from, but people were slapping each other left and right. I was in the grocery store one night and the checker accidentally entered the wrong code for zucchini for the sweet elderly woman in front of me. Her face suddenly darkened as she spit out, “That’s not the correct price!” Before I could do anything, she reached up and smacked the poor guy, tossed her card at the security guard who immediately approached, and huffed out of the store. The guy was still stunned when he asked me for my Rewards card. He had to smile as he said that he got to use his “Free Slap” card the day before when a customer got irate because he wouldn’t triple her coupons. “Sometimes, people overreact, but I’m glad she was older and didn’t hit me too hard.” I went through the Taco Bell drive-through recently with a close friend and after we got home to eat, she discovered they had forgotten her Burrito Supreme. She herded us all back into the car and drove us back to Taco Bell toot sweet. She marched up to the drive-through window and the clerk leaned out just in time to get a hearty smack. My friend got her Burrito Supreme right away. An off-duty police officer took care of the slap card details.

Naturally, this program made some headlines. I read endless editorials and heard newscasters issuing reports where slappings had taken place, and the mayor was considering stopping the program. (Rumor had it that he had been slapped at an out-of-control City Council meeting.) Our fair city had gotten the reputation of a wild, lawless town where citizens just slapped each other willy-nilly. However, they also noted that everyone seemed more relaxed. Stress was at an all-time low. I guess you could say that overall reaction to the program was mixed. It seemed like Tough Love for the masses. Teenagers were no longer talking back to their parents in stores, because they never knew who might be packing a “Free Slap” card. Service was always prompt and delivered with a smile. Drivers became more courteous. More people said "Please" and "Thank you." Common courtesy had begun to return to our world.

With all of the unfavorable publicity, I was beginning to think that I would miss out on my chance to slap if the program was canceled. The card was burning a hole in my pocket and my right hand itched. Sure, I received occasionally rude treatment, but nothing that seemed, in my mind, worthy of a slap.

Finally, one afternoon, I had my chance. My partner and I were waiting in a busy line at Sears and the clerk was stranded by herself. The line of customers wound out of the department and the poor girl at the cash register was doing her best to be polite, professional, and efficient. We had been waiting a while and I was surprised to see that no one else approached. The entire store seemed to get swamped at once and the store was obviously not staffed for it. We really had no choice but to wait patiently.

The woman in front of me had her head held high in self-righteous indignation and was starting to mutter under her breath. As a point of note, she appeared to be around 50 years old. She finally turned to me and said, “Can you believe this?” I stared at her blankly and she turned back around in a huff. When she got to the counter, she slammed her hand down on the counter and began giving the poor girl hell for poor service. The girl was apologetic, but the woman wasn’t having any of it.

“I can’t believe this! Why have you taken so long to get to me?”

“Ma’am, I’m very sorry, but we had a big rush and everyone else went to lunch. I’ll help you as soon as I can.” She handed her customer his receipt and gave him a smile as he quickly left.

“This is an outrage. I demand to speak to someone about this NOW.”

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but the Manager is out right now. I’ll be glad to give you his card if you want to call –"

“No, I want to talk to someone now. If he’s not here, I guess I’ll have to talk to you about it.”

To my surprise, I heard someone’s icy voice call out.

“Madam, I’m sure you heard what she said. Why don’t you just take the card and finish your business so we can go on with ours?” That icy voice was mine, and my partner looked at me in amazement.

She spun around on her heel, her large polyester print dress billowing around her. She stumbled slightly and I thought she was about to fall.

“Why don’t you shut up? I’m going to say what I have to say. Mind your own business!” Small droplets of spittle flew out of her infuriated magenta lips.

Again, my voice called out, strong and clear, and icier than a blue northern wind.

“Why don’t you leave her alone? She’s obviously doing her best and there’s no one else to help her."

“That’s not my problem.”

“It’s our problem, since we’ve all been waiting in line, and you're not making it any easier by making an unpleasant scene.”

Other voices in the crowd began to murmur. I heard an occasional “Yeah, shut the hell up, lady!”
The woman looked at me with narrowed eyes and noticed my partner standing close to me. He had moved closer during the confrontation in case I needed backup. Her face turned from pink to a light shade of purple.

“Ah-ha! I should have known you were one of those no-good fag…" But she didn’t get to finish what I knew she was about to say. Before I knew what had happened, my right hand flew up and struck her hard on her left cheek. The crowd gasped. She did stumble that time. Eagerly, I reached into my wallet and grabbed my “Free Slap” card while the woman sputtered with shock and disbelief while some of the gathering crowd applauded. People started pulling out their free slap cards and I was a bit concerned there would be a riot.

In the meantime, the hapless slappee was now out of control. She had gone from purple to an angry color not known on any color wheel. “I can’t believe you would strike me! Security! Security! You’re in so much trouble, missy.” She was spitting for real now. A security guard stepped out of the gathering crowd and approached us. The woman’s face fell as she got a better look at the card while I handed it over to the guard.

The woman got a bit hysterical, and the security guard escorted her away. I hoped the slap would ultimately do her good. Since we had moved up closer in line, I got a better look at our cashier. It was the same girl who had driven the Silver Mustang last week. She gave us a big smile and gave us tremendous service. We even got some kind of a discount on our purchase.

It’s funny how life can turn on itself, isn’t it?