I had to be a bitch about it.

At work today, I was called a bitch by a total stranger.  While in the restroom, a woman who was in a stall asked if I would mind handing her some toilet paper.  I agreed to and looked in several stalls for the paper.  We have  dispensers that hold multiple rolls, and I found a roll that was stuck in the "up" position. I fought to get it out, making some struggling sounds, I suppose.  I got some from another stall and, throwing it over her stall door, I told her to catch. 

She then says to me, "You don't have to be a bitch about it".  This elicits laughter from me, and in my sweetest southern accent I say, "Well, that's not very nice!  Let's see if I do a favor for YOU again!" 

How have we collapsed as a culture that help from a stranger causes a surge of misplaced anger?  I'm a moody person, but I reserve my bilious anger for those that have earned it.

Just to let you all know, I am not soured by this experience.  Like Blanche DuBois, I still believe in the kindness of strangers.  We have to hold the quilted fabric of our society together somehow, right?