Unhappy Friday

Well hello there!

I was hoping to write something funny and/or insightful today, but it's not going to happen. You see I've done something tres stupide and have gotten myself into a little situation. I'm dying to write about it, if for nothing more than to make each and every one of you feel far superior to me, which would be a nice little "going into the weekend gift" from me to you, but I'll need some time to try to fix things before I share.

So, given that I'm in a major snit, and I can't write about what's really bothering me, I thought I would do a little free association list of some OTHER things that get stuck in my craw. One of which is the expression, "Stuck in my Craw." What the heck does that mean, anyway? Sounds gross, and I'm too afraid to Google it.

When I started blogging, I made a list of things that bugged me.

Here are some additions:

Self Checkout at the supermarket: Why would I want to do someone else's job when I could be doing a quick scan of People and US Weekly instead? And if I am going to do someone else's job, which only happens when I'm pressured to do so, why can't it ever work out right? Why does the disembodied voice NEVER BELIEVE I am putting what I am putting on the conveyer belt? And, if the checker has to come over and help me anyway, then send me to purgatory (the service desk), are we really saving any time or money here?

"Let Go and Let God": Just bugs me. Always has. Always will. Great concept; annoying phrase.

Magazines that encourage us to strengthen our pelvic floor muscles by "stopping the flow of urine midstream." Puh-lease. Telling that to someone who has squeezed out 2 kids is like telling her to go climb Mt. Everest before school pick-up time.

Living In Overcrowded 'Burbs: I do not appreciate having to get up at 5 am to register kids for swim lessons, or tennis, or preschool. I mean, who wants to be wait-listed for VACATION BIBLE SCHOOL for heaven's sake? That just seems wrong.

Not enough Samoas in a box to satisfy me.

Mouse poop in my can of refried beans. Yep. Happened on Wed.

Providing snacks for every child-related event.

Muddy Paws.

High Pressure Sales Tactics. (more on this next week)

Feeling Foolish (more on this next week)

Tripping on everyone's stuff. Every darn day.

My blue jeans rubbing off on the new car's leather seats.

A 60 lb dog who hangs out ON the kitchen table while I'm at work.

And last but not least:

Wayward pantiliners.

No Worries

I find it extremely annoying in a store or restaurant when I say “Thank you” and the worker responds with “No problem” or even “No worries” instead of “You’re welcome.” It grates, my how it grates!

I don’t like the implication, no matter how far-fetched, that my patronage could potentially cause any problems or worries. After all, I am the customer. Am I over-thinking this?

I never correct these folks, even though I come from a long line of Grammar Police. I have a well-worn copy of the book "Frequently Misspelled Words" that used to sit on my grandfather’s desk when he was a college administrator. He was a tough old character who would not hesitate to correct grammar or usage errors.

My own dear mom also corrected people, albeit in a kind, homey way. While going in for an MRI just days before she died, she took it upon herself to instruct the MRI tech on the difference between lay and lie. “Honey, I’m sure you have to say this many times every day, so I thought you would like to know that objects lay and people lie.”

I do not correct grammar or usage unless I am inside an English classroom or if I am speaking to the fruit of my loins. After all, I make plenty of grammatical errors myself, and I also have a painful memory burned into my mind that keeps me from crossing this line.

It was the late 80’s and I was 18. My mother had died suddenly, and I found myself home from college for the summer, trying to establish a new reality for myself. Three days after the funeral, I found a job at our favorite neighborhood restaurant. I was a crappy hostess, a deplorable waitress, and an even worse bartender. I did have big hair, a denim miniskirt, a ready smile, and a good attitude.

The other employees knew of my great loss and were kind to me, understanding, I hope, that my smiles and chatty conversation didn’t mean I didn’t love my mom, and that when I would tear up over a spilled glass of water or a botched order, I wasn’t really crying about work.

One night I was working the register when a young dad paid by credit card. Handing him the slip, I said, “Okay, sir, I just need you to write your name here.”

Young Dad: “Write my name? Write my name? What you are asking for is my SIG-NA-TURE not my name."

Me: “Sure, okay.”

Young Dad: “No. It is not OKAY. In life, you must learn to speak WELL not to speak GOOD.”

What I wanted to say was, “Look, A-hole, I know you may be looking for your own little Pygmalion moment, but you've got the wrong girl. I am not Eliza Doolittle, and I don’t need any of your personal instruction. You may see me merely as the hired help, but there’s a lot more going on with me than you know. By the way, I’m sure my SAT scores and college GPA would blow yours out of the water.”

Instead, I flushed, teared up, and said nothing.

More than 20 years later, I still remember how crappy it felt to be spoken to so condescendingly. Isn’t it amazing how the bad stuff sticks to us, while the good stuff rolls off?

So, when I hear a friend say, “Could you give it to Kim or I?” or a salesperson say, “No problem” in response to a simple thank you, I just keep it in perspective and tell myself that sometimes it is better to do good than to just do things well.