Mind Your Fucking Manners, Morons
So apparently nobody has manners anymore. You might think I'm exaggerating, but I'm totally not. Nobody spends an ounce of energy thinking about how their actions are going to impact anybody but their sweet little selves. I used to say I was going to write a book just ranting about stupid people, but now I think in addition, I will write a manners guide with the title of this blog. Maybe then people will take notice. Because right now, it seems pretty hopeless out there.
In the past week, several incidents have happened where I think, "What the fuck is that person THINKING?" or "How is this person justifying this behavior as okay?!" and I have come up with nothing. This is depressing because it's like being the only sober person in a room full of drunks. Everyone else is having a grand old time and you're sitting there seeing everyone act like complete idiots and nobody cares but you. So you end up leaving because nobody cares that they're being stupid and everyone being stupid continues being stupid and has a great time. The problem with this in real life is that you can't just leave the party. Well you can, but that's very depressing to think about. What I guess I can do is start having equally bad manners.
At first I was going to just start small. For example, I have noticed recently that cashiers at stores don't talk to the customers as they ring their stuff up. Now look, as everyone who knows me knows, I don't really want to find out their life story or anything, but I do think a brief "Hello" or "Cash or debit?" or maybe even eye contact is appropriate. I sometimes have my debit card out and the guy chin-gestures towards the swipey machine and that's the most interaction I get. So usually when this happens, I try to be the more well mannered person (not hard in this case) and I say hello and smile at them. Sometimes I try to be facetious about it and make them talk to me. But mostly, I was genuine in my interaction. Pardon me for expecting to interact with the human one foot away from me. Well, no more. Now I'm not going to say a goddamn thing to any cashier. I will not speak until spoken to. You want to talk to me? Make the fucking effort. We'll see if I feel like talking in return. Maybe I'll just sign or shrug at my debit card to indicate that I'd prefer that to paying cash. Maybe I'll grunt once for paper, twice for plastic. The sky's the limit with this one.
At the movies, if I get a phone call, I'm answering it. No more silencing my phone when everyone else just puts theirs on vibrate or leaves it on all the way. And if I'm bored by the movie, I will text and play on my phone so the whole screen lights up without worrying that the people in the seats around me are all ticked off. I paid a million dollars like everyone else to see this crappy film so I will do as I please.
I'm no longer asking anybody if this is where the line starts, or if they were here first, or if they're all set. Lines are for losers. So I will go up and put myself in whatever place I want. (By the way, line cutters are the WORST. You call them out and they just do not give a shit what you're saying. And really, how much power do you have? You're trying to tell them off while not moving a foot to lose your spot in the loser line. They're getting rung up and leaving while you're literally stuck in place. Not worth it.)
I will no longer go out of my way to bake people cookies and cupcakes and banana bread. Fuck them. I bake these delicious goods, they eat it, and do you think the majority of people bother to say thank you? Absolutely not. You know what they do? They leave the empty crumb container for me to clean up or the cupcake wrappers all over my desk. "Did you make those?" "Yeah." "Can I have one?" "Sure." Takes five, walks away. You're welcome, you fat load. How about when you leave a freshly baked banana bread off for someone, they say thanks as though they were expecting it slash entitled to one, and then you never hear a "Hey, just had some for breakfast, thanks"? Is that really a lot to ask? Apparently it is, because that has never once happened. So from here on out, I'm only baking for people who actually seem to appreciate the fact that it takes more effort than five minutes of my time to make them such a delicious masterpiece. Seriously, I bet Betty Crocker didn't put up with this shit, so neither am I.
I'm not going to be a considerate pedestrian anymore. I used to move around people or let them go by me. If I saw a pack of people coming in the opposite direction, I would stop and wait for them to pass. That is just ridiculous. I am going to walk and be completely oblivious to anybody else on the sidewalk. I don't care if you have a walker or a stroller or ten of your best friends with you. I'm not stopping or moving. I might even barge right into you and not apologize.
I'm going to start giving people the same shitty advice and give them my opinion on things that have nothing to do with me and I have no idea about. When people ask me about whether I'm dating any good guys, I want to slap them. Guess what? If I have a new boyfriend to introduce to you, I fucking will. When you're finally pregnant, you'll show up and announce it. How would you like it if every time I saw you I asked you if you were pregnant yet? And then I gave you my opinion on what you're doing wrong or why you haven't had kids yet or tell you that you're a wonderful person and it'll happen for you and guess what, having kids isn't that great unless you really want them in the first place and you're ready for them. Or my personal favorite: you can only have kids when you're at 100% yourself! I would like to ask these fuckfaces when they tell me this about myself and why I'm single, "Oh really? So you're at 100% right now? And what puts you at that number? And no including anything that you do with your husband or wife." That should shut them right up. That or a good slap. Whichever works first.
Here's what it comes down to. I used to be a nice person who cared about other people. If I'm really facing facts, I'm still a kind of nice person who kind of cares about other people. I would find fun toys and desk things and books, all those little things, and buy them for people I knew would get a kick out of them. I would think, "I bet so-and-so would think this is cool" and then I'd spend the $2.00 and voila someone would have a present for them on a random day, just because I liked them and thought of them. That's pretty fucking nice. I would also remember people's birthdays or their favorite drink on a hot day or send a nice thank you email to someone about their employees who are so great. I would bring cupcakes for people who went out of their way to help me. I would send a text to see how someone's tough day went or a text to just let someone know that you know what, I know that your day sucked, but I was still your fan. Well, guess what I found out recently? Nobody. Gives. A. Shit.
Yup, nobody cares that I did that. Last year, I flipped out because I remembered everyone's birthday at work and brought in cupcakes and everyone's favorite treats - even going so far as to get sugar free candies in addition to cupcakes for one of our newly diabetic guys - and then when my birthday rolled around, nobody fucking cared. Do you think I got so much as a Hostess 7-11 cupcake? Nope. That was my first big metaphorical slap across the face.
(By the way, I need to stop here and explain that I'm watching this Oprah rerun, don't ask, and it's got this single woman on who lost like 300 pounds. When she was at her heaviest, she ate an entire three-tier wedding cake by herself. Now look, I love cake. I mean, I looooove cake. If she ate an entire cake, I wouldn't have really stopped and cared. But a wedding cake? Really? You're going to do that to yourself? Then she says that when she finally got her shit together, she started working out in a cemetery at night because she was so embarrassed by herself. Yikes. I mean, yiiiiikes.)
Okay, back to me and my birthday. So I made this huge stink that I hadn't gotten anything on my birthday when I cared about everyone else. I mean, I went all out. I didn't just say something quietly, like, "Hey guys, it was my birthday yesterday" or make little snarky comments about cakes and presents and guilt-trip them into realizing their mistake. I called them out on it. At one of our mini informal meetings, I told them how upset and angry I was. I didn't pull any punches, either. In the middle of a bunch of adults, I pretty much threw a tantrum about how rude they were. It was ironic, at the time, because here I was telling everyone how rude they were in a pretty infantile and rude way. I mean, if you know me, you know that when I decide I'm throwing a tantrum, well, I'm throwing a fucking tantrum. There was no tact. I don't remember everything, because I was pretty blinded with anger, but I do know I said things like, "You guys really are despicable" and "You don't care about anybody but yourselves" and "I hope nobody gets you a birthday cake on your birthday for the rest of your lives." Oh yeah. I went there.
Anyway, this year, people took the fucking hint and were wishing me a happy birthday all over the place. I got a cake with 28 lit candles on it and a freaking crown. See, these people learned. It wasn't that they cared so much that it was my birthday or that they loved me so much, it was that I had lost all subtlety and just told them how angry I was. I was just as impolite as they were when I called their moronic asses out. This is why I should write my book, because this was the only way I was effective. I guarantee that if I had said things like, "Well, I just really think that it would have been nice if people had remembered my birthday the same way that we've remembered everyone else's" that this year would have come and gone and I wouldn't have seen a crumb of cake on the big day. So I figured it out. Treat everyone like the moronic ill mannered morons they are, and we're all winners.
So the bottom line is this. I'm not going to be well mannered anymore because being good mannered while everyone else pretty much gives you the double finger salute is for chumps, and I'm no chump.
Also, I am going to contact a publishing company about my book proposal. And by "contact" I mean I'm going to tell them to fucking my publish my fucking manners book right fucking now because it is a gold mine and will make me and them filthy rich while ridding the world of ill-mannered morons.
You're motherfucking welcome.
In the past week, several incidents have happened where I think, "What the fuck is that person THINKING?" or "How is this person justifying this behavior as okay?!" and I have come up with nothing. This is depressing because it's like being the only sober person in a room full of drunks. Everyone else is having a grand old time and you're sitting there seeing everyone act like complete idiots and nobody cares but you. So you end up leaving because nobody cares that they're being stupid and everyone being stupid continues being stupid and has a great time. The problem with this in real life is that you can't just leave the party. Well you can, but that's very depressing to think about. What I guess I can do is start having equally bad manners.
At first I was going to just start small. For example, I have noticed recently that cashiers at stores don't talk to the customers as they ring their stuff up. Now look, as everyone who knows me knows, I don't really want to find out their life story or anything, but I do think a brief "Hello" or "Cash or debit?" or maybe even eye contact is appropriate. I sometimes have my debit card out and the guy chin-gestures towards the swipey machine and that's the most interaction I get. So usually when this happens, I try to be the more well mannered person (not hard in this case) and I say hello and smile at them. Sometimes I try to be facetious about it and make them talk to me. But mostly, I was genuine in my interaction. Pardon me for expecting to interact with the human one foot away from me. Well, no more. Now I'm not going to say a goddamn thing to any cashier. I will not speak until spoken to. You want to talk to me? Make the fucking effort. We'll see if I feel like talking in return. Maybe I'll just sign or shrug at my debit card to indicate that I'd prefer that to paying cash. Maybe I'll grunt once for paper, twice for plastic. The sky's the limit with this one.
At the movies, if I get a phone call, I'm answering it. No more silencing my phone when everyone else just puts theirs on vibrate or leaves it on all the way. And if I'm bored by the movie, I will text and play on my phone so the whole screen lights up without worrying that the people in the seats around me are all ticked off. I paid a million dollars like everyone else to see this crappy film so I will do as I please.
I'm no longer asking anybody if this is where the line starts, or if they were here first, or if they're all set. Lines are for losers. So I will go up and put myself in whatever place I want. (By the way, line cutters are the WORST. You call them out and they just do not give a shit what you're saying. And really, how much power do you have? You're trying to tell them off while not moving a foot to lose your spot in the loser line. They're getting rung up and leaving while you're literally stuck in place. Not worth it.)
I will no longer go out of my way to bake people cookies and cupcakes and banana bread. Fuck them. I bake these delicious goods, they eat it, and do you think the majority of people bother to say thank you? Absolutely not. You know what they do? They leave the empty crumb container for me to clean up or the cupcake wrappers all over my desk. "Did you make those?" "Yeah." "Can I have one?" "Sure." Takes five, walks away. You're welcome, you fat load. How about when you leave a freshly baked banana bread off for someone, they say thanks as though they were expecting it slash entitled to one, and then you never hear a "Hey, just had some for breakfast, thanks"? Is that really a lot to ask? Apparently it is, because that has never once happened. So from here on out, I'm only baking for people who actually seem to appreciate the fact that it takes more effort than five minutes of my time to make them such a delicious masterpiece. Seriously, I bet Betty Crocker didn't put up with this shit, so neither am I.
I'm not going to be a considerate pedestrian anymore. I used to move around people or let them go by me. If I saw a pack of people coming in the opposite direction, I would stop and wait for them to pass. That is just ridiculous. I am going to walk and be completely oblivious to anybody else on the sidewalk. I don't care if you have a walker or a stroller or ten of your best friends with you. I'm not stopping or moving. I might even barge right into you and not apologize.
I'm going to start giving people the same shitty advice and give them my opinion on things that have nothing to do with me and I have no idea about. When people ask me about whether I'm dating any good guys, I want to slap them. Guess what? If I have a new boyfriend to introduce to you, I fucking will. When you're finally pregnant, you'll show up and announce it. How would you like it if every time I saw you I asked you if you were pregnant yet? And then I gave you my opinion on what you're doing wrong or why you haven't had kids yet or tell you that you're a wonderful person and it'll happen for you and guess what, having kids isn't that great unless you really want them in the first place and you're ready for them. Or my personal favorite: you can only have kids when you're at 100% yourself! I would like to ask these fuckfaces when they tell me this about myself and why I'm single, "Oh really? So you're at 100% right now? And what puts you at that number? And no including anything that you do with your husband or wife." That should shut them right up. That or a good slap. Whichever works first.
Here's what it comes down to. I used to be a nice person who cared about other people. If I'm really facing facts, I'm still a kind of nice person who kind of cares about other people. I would find fun toys and desk things and books, all those little things, and buy them for people I knew would get a kick out of them. I would think, "I bet so-and-so would think this is cool" and then I'd spend the $2.00 and voila someone would have a present for them on a random day, just because I liked them and thought of them. That's pretty fucking nice. I would also remember people's birthdays or their favorite drink on a hot day or send a nice thank you email to someone about their employees who are so great. I would bring cupcakes for people who went out of their way to help me. I would send a text to see how someone's tough day went or a text to just let someone know that you know what, I know that your day sucked, but I was still your fan. Well, guess what I found out recently? Nobody. Gives. A. Shit.
Yup, nobody cares that I did that. Last year, I flipped out because I remembered everyone's birthday at work and brought in cupcakes and everyone's favorite treats - even going so far as to get sugar free candies in addition to cupcakes for one of our newly diabetic guys - and then when my birthday rolled around, nobody fucking cared. Do you think I got so much as a Hostess 7-11 cupcake? Nope. That was my first big metaphorical slap across the face.
(By the way, I need to stop here and explain that I'm watching this Oprah rerun, don't ask, and it's got this single woman on who lost like 300 pounds. When she was at her heaviest, she ate an entire three-tier wedding cake by herself. Now look, I love cake. I mean, I looooove cake. If she ate an entire cake, I wouldn't have really stopped and cared. But a wedding cake? Really? You're going to do that to yourself? Then she says that when she finally got her shit together, she started working out in a cemetery at night because she was so embarrassed by herself. Yikes. I mean, yiiiiikes.)
Okay, back to me and my birthday. So I made this huge stink that I hadn't gotten anything on my birthday when I cared about everyone else. I mean, I went all out. I didn't just say something quietly, like, "Hey guys, it was my birthday yesterday" or make little snarky comments about cakes and presents and guilt-trip them into realizing their mistake. I called them out on it. At one of our mini informal meetings, I told them how upset and angry I was. I didn't pull any punches, either. In the middle of a bunch of adults, I pretty much threw a tantrum about how rude they were. It was ironic, at the time, because here I was telling everyone how rude they were in a pretty infantile and rude way. I mean, if you know me, you know that when I decide I'm throwing a tantrum, well, I'm throwing a fucking tantrum. There was no tact. I don't remember everything, because I was pretty blinded with anger, but I do know I said things like, "You guys really are despicable" and "You don't care about anybody but yourselves" and "I hope nobody gets you a birthday cake on your birthday for the rest of your lives." Oh yeah. I went there.
Anyway, this year, people took the fucking hint and were wishing me a happy birthday all over the place. I got a cake with 28 lit candles on it and a freaking crown. See, these people learned. It wasn't that they cared so much that it was my birthday or that they loved me so much, it was that I had lost all subtlety and just told them how angry I was. I was just as impolite as they were when I called their moronic asses out. This is why I should write my book, because this was the only way I was effective. I guarantee that if I had said things like, "Well, I just really think that it would have been nice if people had remembered my birthday the same way that we've remembered everyone else's" that this year would have come and gone and I wouldn't have seen a crumb of cake on the big day. So I figured it out. Treat everyone like the moronic ill mannered morons they are, and we're all winners.
So the bottom line is this. I'm not going to be well mannered anymore because being good mannered while everyone else pretty much gives you the double finger salute is for chumps, and I'm no chump.
Also, I am going to contact a publishing company about my book proposal. And by "contact" I mean I'm going to tell them to fucking my publish my fucking manners book right fucking now because it is a gold mine and will make me and them filthy rich while ridding the world of ill-mannered morons.
You're motherfucking welcome.
