The Old "My Dad's A Rapist" Conversation

Have you ever paused in a busy supermarket, and witnessed the microcosm of humanity that is flowing around you?

I mean, everyone, no matter who they are or what their position or status may be, has to eat.

In a previous life I worked in a supermarket. Even now I sometimes think back to that time in my life. I served the public in a completely different manner to how I currently serve them, and I have to say I miss it a little.

The stores I worked in were like home, in a very odd way of course. Colleagues were your extended family.

And I got to see people from ALL walks of life, and hear their stories. I shouldn't, then, be surprised at what happened today.

Today I was in a supermarket. Minding my own business. I had taken a ticket representing my turn at the deli counter. As I waited for my number to be called, I noticed a large woman to my left.

She was waving, fairly wildly, at her own face, trying to find a way of coping with the heat. She might have seen me looking at her, or perhaps she saw something about me equally curious.

She struck up a conversation. Fine.

And on hearing my glorious Scottish accent, she asked if I was from Glasgow, with a hint of a smile.

"Ah", I thought, "she may be Scottish."

I informed her she was close, that I was actually from a town a short distance from Glasgow. She smiled broadly. I asked if she was from Scotland, and she replied that her father was Scottish.

What followed was not expected. How could it be?

She told me she had never met her father. Her father and mother had met in Scotland and that he had went on to rape her. And so this lady was the product of rape. She explained that he was now probably dead as he had been terribly fond of alcohol. A few more details were provided.

I stood there stunned, not knowing what to say or do. All I could think was, was this woman needs to be listened to. So I listened.

After a few minutes she wished me farewell and off she went.

I turned to the lady serving at the deli counter and she clearly couldn't believe what had just taken place either.

I wonder why she felt she had to, or simply could, tell me such personal information. I feel I caught a glimpse into a vulnerable person's life, and am left with a sense of wanting to make it better, to somehow fix it. But you can't fix these things.

I wish I could fix a lot in this world.

I really do have one of those faces people seem to be drawn to in public places. It's both a blessing and a curse. It's a privilege for people to invite you into their lives, even if for a second, but what I sometimes witness isn't necessarily pleasant or pretty.

Do you find people approach you in this manner, out in public? How would you have responded to this woman in the supermarket?