You just don't understand

I'm either reading or writing in a cafe, where I can get a nice bowl of cinnamon and raisin oatmeal on this cool Scots-misty first morning of October. That's why I don't really pick up on the topic of conversation when the voices are raised.

It's the man at the other end, who has been chatting genially enough with whomever wanders within range. However, now he's declaiming angrily about the occupants of the latest tent village that has sprung up nearby.

The guy who runs this cafe, a gentle and easy-going bearded young father, suggests that the declaimer try offering the homeless campers someplace to stay. The man sits back in his seat and glowers.

"You just don't understand!"

"Try to make me understand," replies the cafe-owner reasonably.

"None of them want to work!" he growls. "They don't want to do anything to help themselves."

He seems to sink further down. "I didn't come here to argue; I'll just finish my cup of tea, and go," he says, and adds: "You just don't understand."

I return to whatever it was I was doing, thinking how children and teenagers often say, "You just don't understand." The underlying message is: If you understood, you wouldn't be disagreeing with me.

A few minutes later, the declaimer is happily chatting with anyone who will shoot the breeze, including the cafe owner, as if nothing happened.