I hear it's best to laugh

I've been on hiatus for a few weeks. I suppose I needed a break. A lot has been going on-- I'm traveling soon to a mystery destination, and I'm looking wildly for funding for school. Also, I started volunteering with Barnardos, a charity that helps abused children. Check out the website here! I really like volunteering there and I love all the good work that the charity does. Child abuse is an enormous problem, and helping kids out of a bad situation right away is absolutely essential. It gives them a chance to have a happy future even though terrible things have already happened. It's a chance to thrive, and hopefully, a chance to have a childhood.

While I was volunteering though, this filthy man wandered into the store. I say filthy for a few different reasons. He was older, perhaps in his late 60's, and the stench emanating from him was powerfully rancid. My stomach flipped as it often does when I encounter a person with bad character or bad intentions. He wandered up to me as I was flitting about the shop and asked where I'm from. His lips seemed to make kissing gestures, but I thought perhaps he had a disease like Parkinsons that affects muscle control. "America," I said, but I really didn't want to talk to him. But he's a potential customer; I have to I thought.
"Where?" he asked again, stepping closer to me, the smell curling sickly into my lungs
"America," I said again, taking a step back.
"Where?" a step closer.
"AMERICA!"
"Where in America?
"New Hampshire."
He stepped closer again and his lips pursed in a flurry of kisses. Then he looked me up and down and sneered. "I want to fuck you," he growled.
I shot him a filthy looked and turned to look at the volunteer behind the counter, closest to the phone incidentally, for help. She stared at me blankly. I turned back around and the pervert was already walking out the door, laughing.

I was kicking myself all day as I thought of everything I should have said or done. My mother told me that when a man flashed her and she pointed and laughed at his naked display, tears welled up in his eyes and he ran away. I should have laughed! I kept thinking, but I didn't feel like laughing. I felt depressed and small. What kind of weirdo walks into a charity that helps abused children and then abuses the volunteers? And why, why does this kind of thing keep happening to me? Haven't I been through enough degradation? Haven't we all?

Think fast; we have to be prepared.

Where is the spirit of bonhomie?