My first job was at Chick Fil-A when I turned 16. From there, I worked retail at Belk and Shoe Carnival, and had a stint at an Outlet Mall. I have waited tables and bartended at Chili’s, Applebee’s, Shoney’s, IHOP and more, and worked sales at a wholesale and retail warehouse. I’ve managed customers for a landscaping company and handled patients at a chiropractic practice. At this moment, I work for a massive drug development company in a position that requires absolutely no customer service work, and I love it more than words can express.
I’m grateful to currently be in a position where I don’t have to worry about the whole “customer is always right” philosophy. If someone screws up, I tell them to fix it. If someone is rude to me, I don’t have to put up with it. When I’m put in front of a client, I’m not the one who has to answer to them, so it’s not a stressful environment with me feeling like I have to pop my customer service voice on and play nice. There’s a mutual respect rather than one or both of us feeling an obligation to fake it.
Just because I’m out of the field doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten what it feels like to have to slap on a smile only to have some customer tell me it’s not good enough. Or yelled at because of a store policy I have no control over, a long cook time on a Friday night, the temperature being too hot/cold, the credit card declining, or one of countless other complaints. Or touched without invitation or permission. Or told I should be fired over something that has nothing to do with me. The customer is “always right” and they know it.
I don’t understand why customers feel that they have ownership over those in the service field. Yes, they are here to help you. No, they are not your slaves. It’s unbelievable to see people take the “I’m always right because I’m a paying customer” idea to the extreme, at the expense of whatever poor hourly employee happens to be standing in front of them. On the tame end, you have people who refuse to say please, snapping their fingers to get an employee’s attention and refusing to make eye contact or speak to them like they would an equal. On the other side of the spectrum, it’s terrifying.
I’ve had people try to hand me dirty diapers and sanitary products (excuse being that the receptacle in the women’s room was full. Gross). I had a kid piss everywhere inside a store and the mother look at me, say “she can clean it up,” and walk away. I’ve had things thrown at me. I’ve been called all sorts of names. I dealt with a customer who would tip his server $100 in order to get extra “services” later. I’ve been cussed at because I didn’t give a customer my phone number. I’ve had customers demand I be fired on the spot for following store policy. I’ve been stiffed on tips after running my ass off for people. I’ve been called racial slurs, a slut, and an idiot. I once had someone try to follow me home. And my experiences aren’t even the worst of what happens.
Your cashier at Target is a person, not a punching bag. But once someone becomes the customer, the employee turns into a being that is less than human, one made to absorb a verbal beating (and sometimes a physical one) and smile as they take it. It is the most illogical thing, but people do it consistently and do it with confidence. The customer brain directs a person to think they have a right and an obligation to treat service workers as rodents. Less than rodents. Like rodent shit.
I don’t give a damn if the lady at the drive-thru doesn’t smile so widely at you, you can see every one of her teeth. Leave her be. I don’t care if you disagree with store policy, it’s not the doing of your cashier so shut up about it. Quit trying to scam your way into free meals or store credit with your whining and bullshit. Stop making the life of retail and food service so incredibly difficult for the people busting tail to make your experience a good one. Just because someone’s job is to serve you doesn’t mean that your job becomes being a right twat, hell bent on making their life miserable. Retail and food service isn’t as easy as most people think; dealing with assholes all day takes its toll. Be the one person who decides to keep their trashy attitude to themselves and don’t follow the entitled herd. Retail people are people too. Don’t forget that.
It was brought to my attention that you are a regular visitor to my page, so I figured that warranted your very own post. I discovered that you enjoy reading my material after my young son notified me. How did he know? Well, it turns out you enjoy gossiping with your own young child about people you don’t know and things you don’t understand, telling your child Lord knows what about me. Very mature of you to teach a child that talking poorly about people so openly, especially people you don’t know, is an acceptable thing to do. And before you call me a hypocrite, this is my page where I get to say what I want, and the things here aren’t shared with my ten-year-old, because I’m a good parent.
It’s a bit confusing how you can dislike someone you’ve never bothered to speak to and who has never done anything to you. We gave up waving and saying hello to you a few months after moving in because your phone and/or cigarettes always seemed to hold your attention better than the world around you. Even though you ignored our attempts to be friendly, we still waved here and there. I can only assume that the reason you decided to act like a bratty teenager was because of my personal nightmare neighbor who has nothing better to do than call the police on me for parking in my driveway, threaten me with physical violence, and then spread nonsense down the street to make herself look like a wounded princess. It would make sense that two weak-minded people would band together though, so I can’t say that I’m surprised.
I have never complained to you or elsewhere when your kids are screaming at each other at all hours, nor have I complained to you or elsewhere when your dog gets loose in surrounding yards. I don’t “have it out” for people I live near, spending all my free time plotting ways to make their lives miserable. You want to know why that fragile Princess is complaining about me? Because she’s wrong, I am right, and she can’t stand it. She hates being proved wrong. She hates the fact that I enjoy my privacy and don’t want her kids using my yard and driveway as a playground, or bouncing balls off of my house. She hates the fact that she failed as a pet owner and we weren’t afraid to call her on it (I mean, who leaves a dog out in the cold, freezing rain with the lights off? That’s just cruel). She hates that I don’t buy her “charming victim” act like so many other people do. She hates that her boyfriend’s “we were here first” argument is bullshit that I’m not standing for. If complaining about me makes her feel better about her miserable existence, I say go for it. And you too!
Should I feel honored that you come here to read my page day after day? I’ve personally never been so curious about a stranger, especially one who lives in such close proximity that I could pop my head outside at any moment if I had a question, that I’ve hopped on Google to find them. I’ve certainly never been so obsessed that I’ve found said stranger’s online information and then proceeded to spend hours upon hours reading through it. And I’ve definitely been so crazed about that stranger that I’ve discussed them with my young child, teaching that child that being a petty gossiping fool is a good way to live life. If you haven’t noticed, I enjoy keeping to myself. It’s only when provoked, I have to come out of my cozy little world and set things straight.
I tried my best with that little Princess who thinks I’m the devil. I let a lot of things slide, telling myself that it’s not worth bringing up and to let it go. That was until Princess accused me of yelling at her kid, approaching me by saying “did we do something to offend you?” and refusing to listen to anything I had to say because her precious children would never lie when they are caught doing something wrong. The other shoe dropped when Princess and her Knight in Shining Hoodie had their drunk party guests on my property, leaving cigarette butts and other trash in my yard. Quite honestly, I should have called the police, considering how loud they were and how many new colorful words my son could hear through the closed window, but I let it go. It was a learning experience; I learned that it was in my best interest to stop trying to be nice to someone who has zero respect for other people if they aren’t interested in kissing her entitled prissy ass.
There are many differences between you and I, but one key difference is that I am minding my own business as best as I can. I’m not seeking out people to annoy, I’m not teaching my children to be dicks to others, and I’m not posting petty nonsense on a neighborhood website. I’m not the one allowing her children to bother other neighbors. I’m not the one having loud parties. I’m not the one littering my cigarette butts and beer bottles everywhere. I’m not the one letting her dog bark outside unattended while I update my Facebook. I’m not the one blocking mailboxes or parking in front of other people’s homes. I’m not the one acting like a pathetic unpopular high school girl by spreading lies like a disease throughout the neighborhood in a sad attempt to make myself feel better. I’m not the one obsessing over other people, staring at my phone or laptop for hours as I try to delve into their lives through whatever I can find online. If you come into my personal space without permission, I take steps to remove you and then I go about my business. Simple as that.
Thankfully, my child is wise enough to recognize stupidity when he sees it and isn’t about to buy into your crap. Your decision to involve your child, and in effect involve mine, fortunately managed to slide right off of his back because he is smart enough to see how petty and childish your behavior is. Getting a preteen to fight an imaginary battle for you? Come on now. Taking sides in an imaginary battle for the street? Ridiculous. I can only imagine how you must live the rest of your life if this is how you act towards someone you don’t even know. Looking back, I’m grateful you never waved back to us or engaged us, because I would not be caught dead associating with someone on your level. I prefer to stay out of the dirt.
I hope you enjoyed reading this, and I hope it encourages you to find a healthier hobby and get the fuck off of my website. Perhaps you get a library card and find some good books to read? Maybe take up crocheting? Go on a nice long walk? Find something better to do with your time than discuss my family and poison your child’s mind. Mind your own damn business, because that’s what I’ve been doing and it works wonders. You are barely a blip on my radar, and once I post this, you will again cease to exist in my world. You are less than a gnat to me. And there’s nothing wrong with that. Neighbors don’t all have to be best friends, we just have to respect the laws and boundaries and personal space of others. Stay out of my orbit and I stay out of yours. Simple. Oh, and next time you see your privileged princess friend, blow her a kiss for me, will you?
p.s. if you’re thinking of retaliating on the neighborhood page, think again. The site is VERY clear on what constitutes harassment and I will not hesitate to report you and contact the proper authorities in order to shut you down. You want to have a say? Say it right here or grow a pair and come say it to my face.
My husband and I have been in our new home for a little over a year now, and I couldn’t be happier about leaving the world of renting far behind me. The downside to home ownership is that, unlike apartments, your neighbors remain pretty consistent. Move in next to a lovely family, and you’ll have an easy ride. Get stuck by a bad neighbor and you can expect to deal with nonstop nonsense for the next 30 years.
While our home was being built, I was excited about the existing neighbors, who had a child around the same age as my own. He was a very polite and well-spoken boy who lived there part time (divorce/separation having half his time with his bio-dad). Other than seeing some pretty ugly drama between the woman next door and her ex, things were pretty quiet. Even the first time they threw a party, the gentleman next door came over to let us know there would be noise and cars, and I really appreciated that.
The second time they had a party, there was no friendly warming before the bouncy house was inflated. There were drunk people sitting in our front yard, littering cigarette butts everywhere. There were kids in our driveway. The man of the house (who I christen Pussy Whipped) blocked off the entire street with flashing lights so the dozens upon dozens of kids could run around screaming. Their house is at the end of the street next to an empty cul-de-sac and giant field, yet they HAD to play cornhole right at the edge of our property, resulting in people all over our yard. Not cool.
In the spirit of neighborly love, we let it go. When one of their children was standing in our driveway, shooting darts at cars, we let it go. When they lost their baby in our yard because the lady of the house (who I’ve named HorseFace) was too busy Facebooking on her phone, we let it go. When their new puppy continuously got loose and came scratching at our back door, we let it go. When their child started picking on my kid and stole his toy, we let it go. When HorseFace confronted me about “kicking her kid out” of my yard, asking me if she did something to offend me, I let it go. I didn’t want to let it go, seeing as how her stupid kid was standing in the middle of my yard to play catch and upsetting my dog, not just retrieving a ball like she said he was, but I did.
Things got to be too much when HorseFace and Pussy Whipped suddenly decided that having a dog was too much work. They began chaining the puppy outside around 6:30am and leaving her outside for most of the day. The puppy would be outside in the pitch dark and cold until nearly 10pm, barking nonstop while my kid tries to sleep. On the weekends, we would be woken up early by the barking. Just like the postal service, that puppy would be outside in rain or shine. Alone. A couple weeks ago, they moved the puppy’s chain so she’d be further away from the back door (which also meant she would be in two yards that didn’t belong to her) After hearing the poor dog bark to be let inside for NINETY MINUTES STRAIGHT IN 50 DEGREE WEATHER AND POURING RAIN, I contacted animal services so they could do a wellness check. I don’t care who you are or what you have going on, there is no excuse for neglecting your dog. And that is exactly what leaving your dog out in the rain while you’re comfy inside would be called. Neglect.
Yesterday, we saw a message on NextDoor, a community message board for my neighborhood. It was titled “Friendly Neighbors” and read: “Don’t we all feel like if a neighbor has an issue with a pet in the neighborhood that for whatever reason is bothering someone as a community they should be an adult and go and talk to the other neighbor before they call animal management for instance? Just really annoyed that we have neighbors make complaints on a puppy for barking but they have a dog as well that barks as well!” HorseFace’s strong suit is not the English language. Or punctuation. Now, I do agree that talking to a neighbor should be the way to go if it’s an issue of noise. This was not. This was an issue of neglect. A puppy needs attention and direction, not a chain and alone time for hours upon hours. I would never call animal management out of spite. I called because that dog needed help. As far as MY dog barking, of course my dog barks! Every time their puppy comes by our door, my dog barks. What my dog does not do is get left outside unsupervised to bark his head off until someone gives a damn. Idiot.
An awesome person on NextDoor replied to HorseFace saying: “If a dog is barking that much, that means that it wants attention and the owner is not taking responsibility for it. Yes, no owner is perfect, my dog barks too, but when a dog is left outside barking non-stop, that means the owner is being ignorant. People also have to remember to be responsible pet owners.” This is my new favorite neighbor. HorseFace replied: “Well barking was not the complaint and she only barks when she is wanting back in. We pay plenty of attention to her as well as play with her. The people even make it a point to park across the sidewalk so my kids can’t ride their toys in front of their house so I don’t believe there is a true issue except they are simply being childish.” At this point, we are enraged. I park my car at the end of my driveway not to spite her kids (honestly, who they hell accuses someone of doing that??) but to stop cars from turning around in my driveway. The cul-de-sac is not paved, so people use my driveway, resulting in headlights shining through our windows at all hours and people leaving skid marks everywhere. We had drunk people leave tire tracks all over our drive as they peeled out after a party, and we had a motorcycle do donuts in the street and our drive, marking it up. That aside, HorseFace (and half my street) parks in the exact same fashion, completely blocking the sidewalk.
My husband has had it at this point, so he says we need to go over there and talk to them face to face (I recorded this conversation so they couldn’t try and spin it later). As he rings the doorbell, HorseFace says “it’s them, I know it’s them” before opening the door. My husband greets them calmly and asks if there is anything we need to talk about. HorseFace says “I don’t know, you guys seem all of a sudden, don’t seem to wave, don’t seem to care, we have a complaint on the dog, you’re our only neighbor.” Pussy Whipped is standing behind her, holding their baby. My husband let them know that of course we filed a complaint on the dog because she was out in the rain for an hour and a half. HorseFace says BULL! My husband says it’s definitely not bull, as we live right next door and can see/hear everything. At this point, they’re talking over each other, HorseFace saying we should have come and talked to them, my husband saying it’s not his job to convince people to be good pet owners. Pussy Whipped and HorseFace both then tell us to go right ahead and call the police/animal control/etc. So I guess now it’s okay to call? It’s hard to keep track.
My husband says “if you have something to say, don’t go online and say it.” Pussy Whipped then says “I tell you what, get your fucking car out of the way, how ‘bout that?” Cute how he grew a pair while not noticing that his car is blocking the sidewalk as we speak. Pussy Whipped then accuses us of blocking the sideway to keep kids away. My husband explains it’s because our driveway is the go-to for cars to turn around in because they don’t want to use the pile of rocks that is our temporary cul-de-sac. HorseFace starts complaining about her kids having to go out in the street, seeming to forget the countless times her kids are playing in the middle of the road, ignoring cars that come through, while unsupervised. Pussy Whipped brings the topic back to our dog barking, where I step in and say the reason he barks is because they moved their dog’s chain so that the puppy can come into our yard. Pussy Whipped then says he can’t go outside without my dog sounding like he’s going to tear through the wall and attack him. For those of you who have seen my dog, do you see him capable of breaking through the walls of our house and attacking our retarded neighbor? No? Me either.
HorseFace continues to deny that their puppy was outside in the rain for so long, or that they neglect her at all. I need to stress that this puppy is continuously left outside along in godawful weather and/or in the dark. Not once have we ever seen this dog be taken for a walk; she’s just thrown in the backyard. I guess to their credit, they do have a dog bowl sitting out there for her, which is helpful when she’s left alone for hours on end, barking her little head off. HorseFace THEN says that animal management never even came out, which is strange considering her post about animal management coming out. At this point, my husband gives up and we walk away while HorseFace yells out the door about how childish we are. Pussy Whipped comes out of the house now; my husband is on the other side of our driveway and I am barely in my own yard at this point. She’s still yelling at us, so I lose it a bit and call her out on having drunk idiots in my yard and driveway. She yells back about me being mean to her poor little angel boy (because saying verbatim “hey, can you please get out of my yard, you’re upsetting my dog” is PURE EVIL). The same boy who crushed another neighbors young tree while playing in their yard.
So NOW, Pussy Whipped says “we were here first, bitch.” I start walking back to my house, saying “fucking asshole” as I turn around. He THEN says “Yeah, do something!” I point out that he is holding a baby while trying to antagonize me. Idiot. He yells “yeah, you’re so tough!” and accused me of starting shit. While holding a baby, Pussy Whipped keeps trying to get me to “do something.” Me, not my husband; the guy wants to fight a chick. As much as I want to punch this bald asshat square in the face, I go back inside my house instead so we can laugh at them in private. Big shocker as well; for the rest of the day on Sunday, they let their puppy back in the house as soon as she started barking. Weird how that works.
I don’t regret calling animal management for one second because the end result seems to be that now the puppy will be let back in when she barks instead of left outside for hours unattended. With winter coming and the temperature dropping, I’m happy that she won’t be suffering. I mean, her owners are idiots, but outside of that, she will be fine. Now, I might have been more willing to go and speak to her about the puppy if her reaction to the whole kid in the yard thing had been more positive. Not once did she acknowledge that the kid shouldn’t have been in someone else’s yard; her first reaction was to accuse me of having a problem with her family. That isn’t what a rational adult does.
Since I’m not dealing with a rational adult, talking is pointless. The three minutes we spent “talking” to them yesterday proved that even more. There is no reasoning with HorseFace, a woman convinced her children are so charming, anyone would be honored to have them running around in their yard. There is no reasoning with Pussy Whipped either, a man who hides behind his wife and child, threatens a woman, and thinks that being somewhere first means you own the entire block. The air being let out of two of my tires this morning could be a weird coincidence, but I’m getting as much as possible on record now because people who use the “we were here first” argument are the same people petty enough to damage someone’s property. I need a lawyer. And a shotgun. And a ten foot fence.
Over the weekend, my mother-in-law took our boy on a little getaway with her to visit family, take a trip to the zoo, and have some fun outdoors before the crazy mid-west weather decides to try to give us snow again. Since my husband and I don’t exactly get these breaks often, we took full advantage and hit the movie theaters, followed by some free Redbox movies, thanks to their mailing list that I highly recommend signing up for unless you don’t enjoy getting things at no cost. Friday night was a local theater night, where we watched the latest film from WWE Studios, Oculus. Saturday gave us Captain America: The Winter Soldier, followed by dinner at a restaurant we used to practically live at. Redbox gifted us with The Wolf of Wall St and American Hustle, two we sadly missed in the theaters. Amazing movies; I was happy with all four but I am seriously burnt out on watching anything over an hour for quite some time.
This brings me to a topic I’ve talked about many times before: rude people in movie theaters. For a movie like Oculus, where the viewer knows to expect many tense moments and frequent scenes where silence is used to build tension, it’s an unspoken rule to keep quiet and save the rustling of popcorn and opening of candy for scenes where the music hits loud or people are screaming. Suspense is easily killed when you have people adding giggles, shaking of ice, or other noises to the movie soundtrack during moments you are meant to be on the edge of your seat. The girl behind us who thought it was OMG HILARIOUS to burp like a frat boy certainly didn’t help, but she thankfully quit after I gave her the I-Wish-I-Could-Kill-You-With-This-Look stare.
The worst offender in Oculus did none of those things though. It was an incredibly sick person. The kind of sick where their sniffles sound like they’re drowning, where their coughs sound like a death rattle, and where they cannot control their bodily functions and obviously cannot stay quiet. If you’re sick to the point where your brain is leaking out of the holes in your face, stay home. The argument for going to work while sick can be made if you are one with no sick leave and bills piling up, but there is no excuse whatsoever for going to a movie theater when you are sick as a dog and sound like the Before part of a Nyquil commercial. You not only kill parts of the movie for people who paid to be there, you run the risk of getting everyone around you sick. I’m hoping that my husband and I did manage to escape without contracting tuberculosis, but it’s too soon to tell. Please, if you’re sick, keep your movie night at home.
During Captain America, things weren’t as bad as far as the typical complaints; I heard no loud popcorn eating and saw no cell phone usage. Having arrived exactly on time, seating was fairly packed so we were close to the front and almost at the end of a row. We were hoping to get lucky and not be too close to anyone, but sadly for us, a couple sat directly behind us halfway through the previews, followed by a mother with her two children. The mother took what felt like ages to get settled in, rustling her bags and giving instructions to the young boy and older female she brought with her. This was one of the few times I was grateful for the 25 minutes of previews that AMC shows, as it gave the lady plenty of time to settle in and shut up.
Did I say settle in? Scratch that, I meant the total opposite. First, her son decided to get very vocal about his displeasure; he began loudly whining while she did the bare minimum to calm him. I don’t fault the kid at all for this; some children don’t want to quietly sit through a movie and are better suited for home viewings only. Some children have zero interest in movies if they aren’t cartoons. Any good parent should know what kind of child they have and adjust accordingly. My son would get antsy sitting through Captain America, so bringing him along was never an option. We’ll save it for DVD, where he can watch as he bounces around his room and takes as many bathroom breaks as he pleases. Thankfully for the little boy, the other female was able to step in and assist; I believe she removed him from the theater, as I didn’t hear another peep once she took action.
I should clarify. I didn’t hear another peep from HIM. The woman was a whole other story. If I properly describe her, it’ll sound as if I’m describing a scene from a slightly racist comedy, featuring a “typical” black woman at a movie theater. She was a walking stereotype and that is unfortunately the best way to describe her. She kept busy saying “I know that’s right!” any time something positive happened for any of the main characters, and especially when Samuel L Jackson was on screen. There is one scene where [not a spoiler] Captain American lands in a body of water that is definitely not an ocean. She felt the need to say “Oh, Steve, didn’t you spend enough time in the ocean?” as he entered the water. Poor Steve definitely got his fill of unsolicited advice, as she consistently told Steve to be careful, watch out, and so on during the ENTIRE MOVIE. In a normal, conversational tone. Because if she whispered, Steve couldn’t hear her. I guess.
The couple behind us, who I initially thought would be basically invisible, are the kind of people who will eventually cause me to snap and become a headline on the evening news as the “Crazed Woman” who slaps a fellow moviegoer. The male apparently had zero idea what was going on, so the female decided that the best time to explain it was during the movie. “No, SHIELD is doing ______,” “Yes, he knew him from _____,” going on for entire scenes and explaining things that the most basic fan should know. And if you don’t, maybe don’t come see the movie in the theater. Watch it at home where you can pause and have all your questions answered. Hell, you can even hop on Google and look things up until you know more than the average raging superfan. The commentary is best saved for after the movie. Sometimes the post-movie discussion with my husband is my favorite part of the whole outing.
Movies are expensive. $15 – $25 for a pair of tickets, depending on the theater and added costs for 3D showings. $20 – $30 for concessions, depending on how hungry and thirsty you happen to be. Movies are time consuming. Over two hours in the theater, plus the drive there and back, which was an hour round trip for us on Saturday. No one wants to spend all that time and money only to have their experience ruined by other people. No one should spend all that time and money only to ignore the movie in favor of conversation, updating Facebook, or any other activity other than watching the movie you paid to see. If you’re unhappy sitting in the theater, LEAVE. I’ve never seen anyone turned down for a voucher for a different movie if they have a valid complaint; it’s easier for management to give you a free pass instead of argue and possibly alienate a customer. We all deserve to have a decent experience. So let’s make a tiny bit of effort and ensure that we all can.
Do you ever get to a point in your day where you feel like giving up on the world? I hit that point pretty early on today. The kid being perfect for my husband but ignoring every word I had to say didn’t give me the greatest start to my day. Annoying my husband by having to repeat myself to the child over and over didn’t help either, so I left feeling pretty crummy. After dropping the boy at daycare, I was almost t-boned by a Mustang who was paying zero attention to the world around him and total attention to whatever was in his hand (I’m assuming a phone, but it was dark). This happens quite frequently around daycare; people from all directions all either assume they have the right of way over everyone else or simply pay no mind to any car or pedestrian that may be in their path. If my husband and I weren’t accustomed to it (which we shouldn’t have to be), I suspect we would have been in an accident or two by now.
After getting the hell away from that Mustang, I ended up stuck behind a white car that not only insisted on going 25 miles below the speed limit, but insisted on trying to brake check me every 100 feet or so. When I reached a point in the road where I could pass the car, it swerved over to straddle the middle line, leaving me no room to pass. Lucky for me, the car turned onto a different road after a few minutes and spared me the annoyance of being stuck for too long. When I lived in Connecticut, cars that wished to drive slower than the speed limit would always pull over to let cars pass. It happened less frequently in Georgia, but still enough to keep my hope alive that people do care about others around them. Now? I can’t remember ever having this happen unless you count the occasional farmer that pulls his massive equipment off of the road to let cars pass. No one cares who they slow down and everyone seems to get incredibly offended if you dare try to pass them.
On the flipside, yesterday it was my husband and I that were too slow. In the morning, we were politely passed by a car that felt we weren’t accelerating quickly enough after passing through a four way stop. In the afternoon, we were passed by a thoughtless dickhole that was seemingly offended by our decision to go the speed limit on a country road. The car passed us and quickly cut back in front of our car. This bugs me to no end. I can almost excuse it if the person you’re passing is driving like a moron and you want to silently tell them to get it together. But the car that passed us had no valid reason to be annoyed and no urgency to get back over, as there were no other cars coming. The guy/girl just wanted to be an ass. Whoever you are, I hope you end up in a ditch.
When I arrived at work this morning, I had to change parking spaces because of the moronic way people choose to park in our giant lot. I then had to weave through security while three middle-aged women with backpacks on wheels decided that they were handicapped in some way, skipped the line, and went through the handicap accessible entrance. This bugs me just as much as when people steal handicap parking spaces. The handicap doors and line is not for lazy, entitled people. It’s for the guy in my building with no arms, the lady with one leg, the people in wheelchairs, and those on crutches. If the blind guy that works here can go through the regular line, you suitcase toting folk can do so as well. Fat and/or tired is not a handicap.
The whole abuse of the handicap line definitely bothers me more than it has any right to, but I don’t think it’s okay for people to skip the regular line and breeze through the automatic doors simply because they think that the extra 20lbs on their body gives them the right to do so. There have been times when the security guard checking badges will tell these people to use the regular line, but for the most part he doesn’t have the time or the patience to do so, so the lazy crowd takes full advantage. What gets me is the feeling of entitlement that these people have. Newsflash: you aren’t entitled to special treatment. You’re not special. I’m not special. Quit acting as if the world owes you something.
I swear, if not for Twitter and being able to vent here, I would go postal and snap at people in public. I’m exhausted with the incredibly rude acts I see on a daily basis. People don’t care anymore about anything that isn’t in their tiny little circle. I’m not saying I should be important to whoever I happen to be around, but I would appreciate being treated like a human being and not as if I’m a gnat that won’t quit buzzing around their head. I’d love for people not to block the entry way to the restroom and then act as if I’M the problem for trying to navigate to a stall without having to hug the gross wall as I pass by. I’d love for my cashier to say “hello” and make eye contact instead of ignoring me completely as they continue a conversation with a fellow coworker about things no one needs to hear said out loud.
I’ve noticed that people seem to think that you either have to kiss everyone’s ass or you have to only look out for yourself. They see no middle ground. Unfortunately, that middle ground is where it’s at. You CAN look out for your best interests and still manage not to be an intolerable asshat to everyone around you. You CAN take care of yourself and your family without ticking off everyone around you. Being a dickhole takes the same amount of effort as slapping a smile on your face and holding open a door for the person behind you. Make an effort. My sanity depends on it.
I was doing some last minute Christmas shopping on Wednesday before grabbing some delicious Jimmy Johns, in the hopes of being able to save myself the headache of doing any sort of non-essential shopping between now and Christmas day. I didn’t manage to get everything I had hoped for, but I am happy to say that it was a surprisingly pleasant outing. Barely anything to complain about on the commute, and not a single issue to speak of in the stores. So why bring this up?
In both Target and Jimmy Johns, I did my normal “thank you so much” upon departure. I placed my food order by beginning with “can I please get.” I smiled. I said “Merry Christmas.” I didn’t do anything out of the ordinary (this is my typical behavior when out in the world, minus the Merry Christmas) and yet the cashier at Target and the two Jimmy Johns employees both seems genuinely shocked by my behavior. Especially the woman at Target, who looked at me as if I was an angel who had just given her a million dollars. It made me feel great and sad all at the same time.
I’ve worked retail; running the register, managing dressing rooms, straightening racks, dealing with returns, and more. I’ve waited tables; smiling when I want to snap at a rude patron, cleaning up ketchup art from an unruly child, running food and grabbing condiments like a whirlwind, and finding myself in the weeds far too often. I’ve worked in other places where I am the first and/or last person a customer sees, which very often means I am the bad guy if they have any kind of problem. As a result, I’ve been yelled at, had things thrown at me, been talked down to as if I’m a nobody, and made to feel like I’m two inches tall. It’s horrible.
The people I encountered on Wednesday should not have been surprised by what I consider to be standard behavior. But I do understand why they were thrown off. Too often, I go out to order food (restaurant or fast food) and hear people say “I want” or “gimme” when ordering, then don’t even mumble a thanks when the food is ready. I see cashiers berated when a sale item rings up wrong, right before having cash slapped onto the counter rather than handed to them. I see the dejected look on the faces of employees as they watch a rude customer destroy the display they just worked so hard to straighten up. I see servers cringe at the crucial moment they realize that the table they’ve been busting tail for is not going to leave them a dime for a tip. Without any effort at all, I can find a rude and terrible person wherever I go.
The bad behavior gets worse around Christmas, without fail. While in Target, I watched the clerk in the electronics section sorrowfully inform a woman that they were indeed out of stock of a certain game, only to have the woman snap back “well, you better call the store in XXXX and find it!” And because the customer is always
an asshole right, he gave her a weak smile and got on the phone to call the other location. Totally unnecessary! An equal amount of effort could have been expended by that insufferable wench by simply asking “do you mind calling the store in XXXX and checking?” But because the holidays are stressful and she was likely running around like crazy looking for the game, she let her frustrations out on someone who damn sure didn’t deserve it.
I suspect that many of you will be out this weekend, trying to cram in some last minute shopping before the 25th peeks its head around the corner. In spite of my efforts, I’ll likely be right out there with you. Considering my road rage, my intolerance for rude people, my tendency to be quickly annoyed by people who don’t move at my pace, and the fact that I’m slightly crazy, I’m going to want to cuss out half the people I see (if not more). But I won’t. I won’t tell anyone to move their ass so I can get down the aisle they’re blocking, I won’t tell the gaggle of cackling women to shut the hell up, and I damn sure won’t cuss out the poor cashier who is getting paid far too little to be dealing with so much nonsense.
Starting now, I ask you all to make a little promise to yourselves. Don’t take out your crappy day, your personal issues, or someone else’s mistake on a person who is just trying to do their job and get you moving on to your next destination. Your server doesn’t need to be yelled at because the restaurant wait puts you behind in your shopping schedule. Your cashier didn’t write the return policy and doesn’t deserve to be the target of your wrath. No one in the mall caused you to have a crap day at work. It takes virtually zero effort to slap a smile on and remember basic manners, so just DO IT!
You know what feels endlessly better than letting out a bit of anger on a stranger? The knowledge that something you did turned someone’s entire day around. I can recall many horrible days waiting tables and/or bartending that were made wonderful by a sweet person/party who either tipped well or treated me like an equal (or both). I always remembered the retail customers who made eye contact, smiled, and thanked me for assisting them. Those gems completely outshone the piles of horse dung that I’d come across, and I’m grateful for them to this day because they remind me that good people do exist. Be one of those good people. It’s the holiday season, so make it merrier while you’re out and about, and then carry it over into 2014. People will thank you, even if you never hear them say it.
My husband and I have been taking advantage of being childless (my son is visiting with his grandparents) and going to the movies as often as we possibly can. We’ve seen Man Of Steel for the second time, World War Z, and most recently This Is The End. We had to drive a bit to see This Is The End, as our local theater had already taken it out of rotation to make room for newer films. I expected the theater to be fairly empty, but it was almost a sold out show, so we did not have the luxury of empty seats around us.
The movie was absolutely hilarious and the theater was filled with laughter for the entire movie. Mostly. I was unfortunately seated next to a man who looked to be in his 60s. He was there with his date who had a big bag of popcorn, a large soda, and seemed to be really into the movie. I was initially happy that the man wasn’t going to be eating popcorn and crunching in my ear, but his behavior was far worse than I could have imagined. It was as if he had bought a ticket, thinking he was about to see a classical movie and was shocked and appalled that Seth Rogen was making dick jokes.
It began slowly, with lots of loud sighs when the rest of the theater was erupting with laughter. It then escalated to comments like “look at these homos,” “what idiots,” “how stupid can you be,” and so on. Any time we would laugh, the old man would complain. He did let loose with a few small giggles, but they were always followed with a comment about how gross, idiotic, or homo the scene was. When he wasn’t complaining, he was grabbing at his crotch and elbowing me; I eventually had to take my purse and create a barrier between us in order to get his clammy elbow out of my seating area, something that earned me a very annoyed glare.
The crotch grabbing was by far the most disturbing part of his behavior, one both my husband and I silently agreed to call him out on if it continued. But aside from his penis fascination, his attitude confused the life out of me. I’ve had a crappy experience at this particular AMC before and was given free passes by management to make up for it. Surely if this man was disgusted with This Is The End, a word with management could have eased him into another film and calmed his nerves. Surely he realized that no one, including his date, paid $10 to sit in a theater and hear him complain about James Franco making jokes about weed. It’s not anyone else’s problem if he is offended by Craig Robinson’s “Take Your Panties Off” t-shirt!
When the movie arrived at the scene where a giant demon appeared on screen, flashing its massive swinging dick on the screen, I thought this man was going to have a heart attack. “This is just awful,” “how disgusting,” and more loud obnoxious sighs. Sir, I get that it’s crude humor, but what in the holy hell did you expect when you bought your ticket? This is a movie from SETH ROGEN! I’ve seen Rogen in more serious roles (Take This Waltz, for example) but he’s always cussing, always laughing in a way that grates on many people’s nerves, and almost always smoking weed. You do NOT go to a movie starring Seth Rogen and expect a classy film that is fun for the whole family. You go to a movie starring Seth Rogen and expect stoner humor, dick jokes, and profanity.
I have to assume that this is normal behavior for this old man, as his date wasn’t fazed by his loud mouth in the least. Thankfully, my purse-barrier held and kept his gross elbow from touching me, but there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about his comments. My husband mocked his loud sigh once and I said “leave if you don’t like it” after one of his many “homo” comments, but not a single thing silenced him until the credits rolled and he awkwardly made his way out of the theater. On a different day, his behavior would have been enough to ruin the experience for me, but I was full of sushi and the movie was making me laugh far too often for my mood to dip.
Part of me wishes that I had gotten in his wrinkled old face and told him to shut the hell up or get the hell out. Surely I was not the only one who wanted to do that; he earned quite a few angry glances from the row in front of him. But my self control, combined with not wanting to ruin the movie for myself, stopped me from getting loud. I wanted to fight fire with fire, but there’s no telling how the old man would have reacted and what he would have done. I wanted to grab an employee to tell him to shut the hell up, but all that would have done was caused me to miss parts of the movie (and it might not have worked anyway). So I did the bare minimum and was later left wondering why the hell I even bother going to movie theaters anymore.
If you want to talk your way through a movie, that’s your right. But do us all a favor and Redbox that movie so you can annoy only the people who are stuck in the house with you. When you are in a public theater, you need to shut your damn mouth, stay in your own seat, keep your phone away, eat like a human being, and quit being an annoyance to people around you! If the movie isn’t to your liking, haul your ass out of the seat and go complain your way into a refund or free passes. Above all else, remember to act like a decent human being and have some respect for those around you. And keep your hands out of your crotch. Freaking weirdo.