Lately, I’ve been asking myself a question that might sound familiar to anyone over 40 (or anyone under 40 with low patience and high self-awareness): Am I getting crotchety … or are people just getting worse? After all, I have a blog series coming up where I rant about various things that get under my skin, including those touched on in the next paragraph, and another series titled “The Unwritten Rules of … ” that is well under way behind the scenes and will begin later this year.
It’s not a rhetorical question. I genuinely wonder, so feel free to comment and share your story of what irritates you. Because in the last few years the group who decides to sit at the booth next to mine in an empty restaurant, and the family who decides, in a park the size of half a football field, to plant their carcasses twelve feet from me and begin a singalong despite there being a playground at the other end and no one else in the park but us, are grating on me. I mean, this stuff is really starting to get on my nerves. And I mean irrationally so.
Don’t get me wrong, I love people, and I know I’m not the mayor of public space. I don’t get to assign restaurant seats or hand out personality makeovers. It’s our quirks and differences that make us unique and interesting. But something about the constant stream of inconsiderate behavior is chipping away at my nerves. It’s not one big explosion — it’s more like social erosion.
First off, I am a teetotaler, as mentioned yesterday, and I don’t touch, uh, substances, so mind-altering consumption isn’t a factor with this irritation. There are the loudmouths, plural, in the movie theater lineup, some of whom decide they will put their friend on speakerphone and practically yell in my ear because they are right behind my friend and me in the lineup. Or others think belching loudly in a restaurant, art gallery, or museum in North America is now socially acceptable. It isn’t. The inconsiderate ones are in the grocery store line, maybe on speakerphone, maybe not … What? Pick up what? Pick up another carton of milk and two rotisserie chickens? Those things are getting expensive. It’s noisy in here. What? Soya Milk? Oh, Almond Milk. Are your sister and her boyfriend still going to be an hour late for the party? What? They had a big fight and aren’t coming now? They broke up? Great … I didn’t mean it that way. Yes, I do care about your sister, but I’m already in line, for crying out loud, and now I have to step out of the line and get that stuff … we’ll talk about it after the party. No, your sister’s breakup, not how expensive rotisserie chickens are now (shouting in someone’s ear). Uh, ever heard of texting or maybe figuring this all out at home before you send your partner to the store? I seem to be a magnet for people who treat volume like a competition. And it’s not just loud voices because some people do have strong voices in conversational mode that carry. And yes, our hearing gradually declines as we age, so some may have to speak louder. However, the lack of awareness and absence of common courtesy irritate me. It’s those who block grocery aisles or the entrance so others can’t get through. It’s leaving trash behind in public places, sometimes beside a half-empty garbage can, not returning shopping carts but letting them roam free, especially when the wind picks up, not giving up your seat for an elderly person on public transit, or neglecting to clean up after using shared facilities. It’s not asking if you can eat or drink in someone’s car before taking a sip or bite; it’s clogging the line for your flight when they call Zone 1, but you are in Zone 5. Oh, how that must piss off the departure staff.
And let’s not forget the guy who sat right beside a friend and me in the otherwise empty bar portion of a restaurant. Not at a table with a beautiful view of Chesapeake Bay. The next seat to us. Like we were emitting a “please start casual conversation” beacon. My friend and I side-glanced at each other and couldn’t tell if he was lonely, clueless, or just thought we were safe and friendly. Respect the bubble, sir. Sure, we’re friendly, but you and your halitosis are too close.
So yeah, I’ve been wondering: Is this me? Am I just becoming a grump with a word count and a blog? But here’s the thing — I don’t think it’s crotchetiness. I think it’s clarity. As we get older (hopefully wiser), we start recognizing what we value: peace, space, kindness, quiet. And we realize how rare those things can be in this busy, loud, electronic world. It’s not that I can’t tolerate other people. I love them. I do. I enjoy conversation. But when others take up more than their fair share of space — physically, emotionally, or audibly — I start noticing, and resenting, while mentally drafting blog posts.
So no, I’m not crotchety. I’m tired of people acting like their presence is a gift we’re lucky to receive. I’m tired of the increasing lack of common courtesy, no concern for posted rules or awareness of surroundings, the use of speakerphones and loud videos where others are gathered, the public belching in a public room, those who spoil trivia night by yelling out answers when they are not even playing, interrupting participants with loud banter, and yelling across the restaurant despite repeated reminders from the host not to do either until the designated time, and to tone it down until the game is finished. You’re not amusing, you’re a drunk jackass.
That said, I’ll keep biting my tongue (most of the time; pick your battles), ducking into quiet corners (of the park), and writing about it (always). Because, as much as inconsiderate people annoy me, they also help feed this blog … you’ll read the rants every Tuesday beginning June 10.
So go ahead and sit too close, block the grocery aisle, shout your life story, slam another door loud enough so the folks in the next county can hear it, and wonder what that loud bang was. I’ve got a keyboard and 700 words, maybe more, waiting for you.
John Berkovich Talks 