I’m not an old man. Given the wonders of modern medicine and the fact I take good care of myself, I hesitate even to call myself middle-aged,though I probably am. So I’d hardly say I’m a victim of grumpy-old-man syndrome.
I’ve reached a point in life where the big faults of humanity – wars, crime, violence, financial misdeeds – don’t really shock me anymore. Appall and disgust, sure, but no real surprises there. The daily, dickish deeds of people, though, are starting to wear on me.
Parents, I get that other parents can be obnoxious. But, really, when you’re dropping off your kid at preschool, is that really the time to air grievances? I’m not sure that dropping F-bombs in a parking lot full of five-and-unders or calling another parent an asshole in front of your kid really is setting the best example. Oh, wait, I am sure. It’s totally NOT setting a good example.
Since we’re on the topic of parents for a moment, here’s another one. Here’s the deal: your kid is awesome. You think so. I think so. Can’t we leave it at that? When you bring your kid to the office, why should you expect that the workers will drop everything and ooh-and-ahh over your kid? Actually, I know why. Because they do. I’ve worked in places where more or less no work got done for an hour or more just because OH MY GOD! THERE’S A BABY IN THE OFFICE! I sort of get it. I like babies. I’ve had babies (not literally, but you understand). But a workplace is not a daycare or a toddler birthday party. If I bring my kid to the office, here’s all I need: a nice “hi”, maybe ask how school’s going, maybe say something funny, then we’ll all move on.
Remember, I told you up top this was a whiny post.
Parents aren’t the only annoying humans. There’s also everyone else.
Decide what you want – AND what your kids want – BEFORE it’s your turn to order at a restaurant or coffee shop.
Pay attention to the road instead of your coffee or your phone.
Pajamas are NOT pants. If you’re going out, put on actual pants. (If you follow me on Twitter @carnivalofglee I’ve been very clear about this.)
Stop calling to sell me stuff. Or to do a survey. I get there’s a “do not call” list that’s dubiously effective with screening solicitors, but it doesn’t apply to companies you already do business with, so I’m screwed there. It also doesn’t apply to organizations that take surveys. But here’s the thing, you’re job as a survey-taker is to record my responses. If you call me seventeen times and seventeen times I refuse to take your survey, that should clue you in that I don’t want to take your survey and it’s a waste of time calling me.
If you’re having a crappy week, don’t go on the Internet to whine about it. (Whoops.)
Trust me, I know daily life is a mixed bag of some good, mostly okay, occasional crud. Just like I know I’m not innocent of occasional dickish behavior myself. Anyone who says they haven’t been a dick at some point is lying to you. Or themselves. Or both. That’s sort of meta- dickish,right there.
And it makes the blogging world go round…