… but take no shit.
Do no harm, but take no shit.
Do no harm, but stand your ground. When words fail you, let your actions speak for you. Wear your heart on your sleeve, and show people what you’re made of.
Now this is going to sound ridiculous, petty, unbelievable, hilarious.. and all of the above. But laugh you mustn’t. (..You can).
Here’s the story of my Denim Jacket.
Today, myself and my mother went to Primark.
My mother is a Primark doubter, but leaves, every single time, with more stuff than me. She’s a secret hauler, and we all know one ourselves.
Grab a coffee, sit back, and indulge in some drama.
* * *
I didn’t get a basket. I didn’t intend on picking up much, do any of us ever go into Primark with the intention of buying lots? We all know what happened at this point, I had jumpsuits hooked over my arms and shoulders, left right and centre. I was using my mum as a pack horse. Everything was fine.
A denim jacket caught my eye, distressed and with sparkles, just how I like them.
Glorious, I thought. I tried it on, it wasn’t a perfect fit, so I’d definitely need a different size. But just my luck, the size I needed was sold out!
Nevertheless, I moved on. My mum dragged me around, looking at strappy tops, tank tops, and, you know, the fun stuff that mothers like to look at in Primark, the basics.
And then she saw it.
Glimmering in the light, the gorgeous white lights beamed down on the jacket, at the end of the aisle we were at. A different location. More sizes?
Now, if any of you know how Primark works, you’ll know it’s written in the rule book, to walk at a moderate-to-slow pace, in front of people that are just trying to get shit done. It’s a must. So, we started our journey towards the jacket, behind two ladies, who were walking at a wonderful pace of about 0.00003mph. I think some call that, leisurely walking?
We were nearly there. The ladies turned off, one going one way, the other, the opposite, and there hung the jacket. In my size.
Mum: “I’ve got it! Omg, I’ve got it! Abbie, I’ve.. ”
Just as she put her hands on the hanger and lifted the beaming jacket from its safety of the rail, the woman from our steady aisle-walk re appeared to our left, snatched it clean out of my mothers grasp, and grinned.
Lovely Lady: “There’ll be more. Just look. HA HA HA HA HA.”
With an evil smile, she walked off.
Myself and my mother stood in silence for what felt like 3 minutes. Disbelief set in.
Now call me dramatic, but is this, or is this not, considered daylight robbery? She just took it straight out of her hands. And laughed. She flaming laughed!
My mum flicked through once, and flicked again. And again,
Mum: “Uhhh.. there’s no more left.”
Oh brilliant, 2015 me retreated, washed her hands of the entire shopping trip, at risk of any further human confrontation, and said, “all in a days work, let’s go home and crawl under the kitchen table. I’ll make a jacket from the laminate flooring! I’ll wear my knickers as a shawl, I won’t be cold. I never needed a coat.”
But oh deary, deary me. To my surprise, shock, horror and disbelief, 2018 Abbie made an appearance. And I don’t know where the bloody hell she came from. (A cupboard somewhere, no doubt. She was covered in dust.)
Me: “Mum, I’m going to get my jacket back.”
Mum: “Haha, okay, that’s okay, go on then, Abbie.”
Now, to my horror, it was only once I’d done the following, that my mum declared she didn’t think I’d do it. She was merely offering reassurance to me after my tragic loss of my denim-jacket-to-be.
But 2018 Abbie, took this as a go ahead.
* * *
The woman wasn’t far away.
She was still smirking, I don’t believe she even wanted the jacket. I watched her. (2015 Abbie, gone out the bloody window), I walked over to her with certainty.
Me: “Hello! Hi, Just so you know, there aren’t any more of those jackets in my size on the rail. I’ll have the one you took out of my mother’s hand.”
I stood there, 2018 Abbie, with my hand out. “What the hell are you doing, Abbie?” My brain said. My tongue had gone numb, and I’m pretty sure I’d wet myself if I stayed there much longer.
I didn’t move. She looked at me.
Lady: “EHH?” a response I wasn’t expecting. “I had it first, I had it first! I WAS THERE FIRST” Breathe! I thought, not toward myself, but toward the Lady.
My hand remained outstretched. I definitely needed a wee now.
Shite, I thought, jacket out the window. 2018 Abbie, why do you do this to yourself.
* * *
This story does have a moral, I promise, it just took me a while to get there. As long as you do no harm, you can take no shit. I can assure you, it’s a good thing to stick up for yourself. And just because you haven’t stuck up for yourself in the past, it doesn’t mean you can’t start now. As long as you’re not; harming anybody, damaging anybodies free will, or damaging anybodies life in any way at all, you can. And you should, and I will you, that you must.
As much as we all would like to believe that we all are as kind as ourselves and the people we surround ourselves with, I think it’s safe to say that not everybody has the same mentality. Some people are thrown at us to challenge us, so I leave you with this:You have permission to stick up for yourself.
(Disclaimer: I am aware that my denim jacket isn’t the most pressing issue to stick up for myself for, but stuck up I did, and I feel good about it. No people were harmed in the making of this blog post, just a few bruised ego’s. Adios.)