Sorry, I don’t speak Asshole

This post is for the guy at the bike shop who, tonight when I asked for a specific type of road bike tire asked me “what for?” Taken aback by the silliness of the question, I told him some of the people I ride with had recommended them – experienced riders who know how and when and where I ride. I even knew what size I needed and what brand. I thought I had ALL the bases covered.


I REALLY appreciated the attitude-soaked technical bike geek schpeal about tire specifications. Thanks for the extra 30 seconds you took to tell me what I DO need, and for letting me know you were all out. Really, thanks.


Perhaps I did the bike shop equivalent to this: you walk into an Italian restaurant (like in Italy), and have been coached by an Italian friend how to order something you want to eat. The snooty waiter comes to your table and you order, using as perfect Italian as you can muster. But here’s the thing: he starts asking you all sorts of questions about your order (do you really want whole wheat pasta? and with a merlot? are you stupid or something?). Problem is, you don’t speak Italian and have no idea what he’s talking about and are completely incapable of justifying your order. And the stupid thing is, the waiter speaks English. And the restaurant is entirely out of pasta anyway.

I get it that you don’t know when you walk up to me if I ride a bike with a basket or have spent the last 12 years racing in Belgium. I GET that I am a chick, and quite possibly old enough to be your mom. But I asked for something specific, and had done my research, so how about you put your condescending bullshit aside for the moment and sell me some tires?

Thankfully, for every encounter I have like this one, I have a couple of really positive ones. There are some awesome folks working in our local bike shops (like the Alter Ego Boys) that are helpful, polite, knowledgeable, and don’t make me feel like I just walked into the men’s bathroom.

But unfortunately sometimes you run into people who just shouldn’t be allowed to deal with other people. And truth be told, I suspect the assholes are assholes to everyone, not just chicks.