There's enough rudeness going around, and some of the examples are not only good for venting, but are pretty funny, if only after the fact. So let's get it off our chests and maybe get a chuckle out of it, too.
I'm an old fart. And I grew up being taught to respect others and to use good manners. But I also have a wicked streak and I get cranky in my old age. Mostly, I let Fate deal with them, but once in a while... hee, hee, hee!
So, here are some thoughts and prespectives from real life... Add yours.
- Please don't hit people with shopping carts. And, really, please don't back up and hit them again. Little old ladies (ouch) don't seem to get the idea (ouch) that this is assault, or that we'll help (ouch) them if they only ask. We really don't (ouch) like getting hit. Especially more than once. Ouch.
- I'm over fifty. If someone says, "Gimmee that, boy," I'm going to be tempted to really give it to them. Be polite, even if you're having a bad day. And don't ever call a man, "boy." There's an old quote I use about being called "boy." I can't fully repeat it here but it has to do with being so hairy, and with so much size and weight, and asking your mama about whether I should be called "boy." BTW, this has nothing to do with race, but a lot to do with respect.
- I used to work in a library at a small university. One day "Professor Snooty" comes in to the Reference Desk, and in a major league snit, says "I know YOU can't help me with this, but can you tell me where I can go?" He didn't know me from Adam and figured that since he was a prima dona and could demand special treatment. So, I said, "I sure can tell you exactly where you can go," and then let that sink in for a minute. He grinned and admitted that he deserved it. We got along fine after that.
- I went to a concert a few years ago, and was on the outside of the mosh pit. I was standing there with my arms crossed, minding my own bidness, when a really drunk kid with a really big nasty sneer slammed into me. Hard. I, however, didn't move. He just bounced off, and fell down hard, and said, "Ow" a few times. I weigh about 200 lbs. and am only about 5' 8" but I'm not fat (well, OK, howzabout not just fat), but I am kinda "solid." He didn't know it but I had seen him coming and just centered my weight and stance before he hit me. Kinda like running into a fire plug. I then picked him up and dusted him off and aimed him back into the pit. Security just kinda stood there open mouthed, I shrugged, and then they started to laugh. Ah, the wonders of alcohol...
- Don't cut in line in front of me. I might just sneeze all over your back. I have really bad allergies to rudeness. Comes on without warning.
- Isn't it fun to see a rude person get their's? You know... the college cutie dressed to kill, who cuts you off in the parking lot with a smug grin, gets out of the car... and slips on the ice and lands on her butt in a slush puddle.
And, hey, this does feel good!
Any you'd like to get off your chest? Keep it clean and don't add to the global rudeness, please and Thank You!
I'm an old fart. And I grew up being taught to respect others and to use good manners. But I also have a wicked streak and I get cranky in my old age. Mostly, I let Fate deal with them, but once in a while... hee, hee, hee!
So, here are some thoughts and prespectives from real life... Add yours.
- Please don't hit people with shopping carts. And, really, please don't back up and hit them again. Little old ladies (ouch) don't seem to get the idea (ouch) that this is assault, or that we'll help (ouch) them if they only ask. We really don't (ouch) like getting hit. Especially more than once. Ouch.
- I'm over fifty. If someone says, "Gimmee that, boy," I'm going to be tempted to really give it to them. Be polite, even if you're having a bad day. And don't ever call a man, "boy." There's an old quote I use about being called "boy." I can't fully repeat it here but it has to do with being so hairy, and with so much size and weight, and asking your mama about whether I should be called "boy." BTW, this has nothing to do with race, but a lot to do with respect.
- I used to work in a library at a small university. One day "Professor Snooty" comes in to the Reference Desk, and in a major league snit, says "I know YOU can't help me with this, but can you tell me where I can go?" He didn't know me from Adam and figured that since he was a prima dona and could demand special treatment. So, I said, "I sure can tell you exactly where you can go," and then let that sink in for a minute. He grinned and admitted that he deserved it. We got along fine after that.
- I went to a concert a few years ago, and was on the outside of the mosh pit. I was standing there with my arms crossed, minding my own bidness, when a really drunk kid with a really big nasty sneer slammed into me. Hard. I, however, didn't move. He just bounced off, and fell down hard, and said, "Ow" a few times. I weigh about 200 lbs. and am only about 5' 8" but I'm not fat (well, OK, howzabout not just fat), but I am kinda "solid." He didn't know it but I had seen him coming and just centered my weight and stance before he hit me. Kinda like running into a fire plug. I then picked him up and dusted him off and aimed him back into the pit. Security just kinda stood there open mouthed, I shrugged, and then they started to laugh. Ah, the wonders of alcohol...
- Don't cut in line in front of me. I might just sneeze all over your back. I have really bad allergies to rudeness. Comes on without warning.
- Isn't it fun to see a rude person get their's? You know... the college cutie dressed to kill, who cuts you off in the parking lot with a smug grin, gets out of the car... and slips on the ice and lands on her butt in a slush puddle.
And, hey, this does feel good!
Any you'd like to get off your chest? Keep it clean and don't add to the global rudeness, please and Thank You!