Soft Parts

Part of my job has me running a snack bar, which is quite the flashback to the days of yore working at The Gallery with Mafia Marge and what became the Taps Week Crew, which is not the point of this post, though notable.
Because it's the fall, ol' Windy Gap (where I live and work) is constantly full not of the traditional YL programs, but with private schools, large corporate groups, etc. Each group has its quirks and we try to accommodate them as best as possible, understanding that this facility is for their use and not for our comfort levels. So if they want to freak out about mixed gender swimming, then they can do that. This most recent group has been fabulous, respectful, kind, etc. I loved them until last night.
The Sippie (snack bar) was opened late just their Senior class and chaperones, which means that absolutely no one was coming in, and I was sitting at the register reading a nerdy book and trying to stay awake. For some reason, several teachers/coaches/parents were congregated in close proximity. That is when I began to overhear their conversation. They were talking about a new teacher, who happened to be on the trip. They were talking about his "queer shoes" and how he'd be fired if he kept wearing them pink girl shoes. I then realized that his "queer shoes" were a pair of red crocs. Not pink, red. Crocs. The current trendy a-sexual shoe. They just kept bashing this guy, whom I'd met earlier in the day--recent college grad, very friendly, went to a Christian college, kinda guy one would expect to teach at a Christian school. He'd taken up knitting as a hobby (started as a joke, then discovered he kinda liked it--talked to him about it) and obviously, to these kind folks, that just upped his firing potential. They said if he ever came to school wearing a pink shirt they'd all quit if he didn't get canned.
So there they were, just tearing apart this guy who dared to be even slightly different than them, while the kids they were to be mentoring and guiding in the concepts of grace and compassion and faith were listening to them and agreeing.
WHAT!?
They went on to talk about how they thought all Muslims were violent and ignorant and ready to jihad us all off the planet, etc. I guess I just forget that people actually think and talk this way about others. And have the gall to do it in large groups. There is no room for the benefit of the doubt in a preset notion. We make decisions based off little (or false) information and use that as a blanket policy; Pink is a girl color, ergo guys in pink are girls. 1 Nun is killed in response to the Pope's recent anti-Islamic remarks, ergo all Muslims are bloodthirsty and vengeful.
Does the ease of preset come with age, with a lackadaisical view of relational investment?
I sound credulous when I say that with all that makes us hard, it'd be worthwhile to hold on to the soft parts, but if we don't, we all let ourselves become one-word caricatures.