As I left the convenience store there was a woman behind me carrying a large pile of snacks and drinks. Being the nice person that I am, I held the door for her.
She stopped partway through and gave me what I can only describe as “A look.”
“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.
“Um, what?” I replied, as a master of the retort, as my brain scrambled to figure out why this lady was suddenly angry with me.
“What are you doing? I don’t need your sexist condensation!”
Ooooooh! That’s why she’s mad.
“I don’t think holding a door is sexist.”
“Well it is! I don’t need a man to hold the door for me!”
“I’m not holding it because you’re a woman. I’m holding it because your arms are full.”
“I DON’T NEED A MAN TO HOLD THE DOOR FOR ME!”
“Have it your way.”
I considered telling her to move, but I’m sure she didn’t need a man to tell her what happens when you stand in a rapidly closing heavy glass door with no way to use your hands.