A do-gooder was chiding me for not doing my fair share. I told them I do plenty of good things. I mean, when was the last time you heard about me choking someone out so they’d shut up (remember, I said ‘heard’)? She didn’t appreciate my lack of gravitas with her conversation.
“Oh, pulling out the college words now are you, you rugose rodomontade?”
I love knowing stupid words in situations like this. They know they’ve been insulted (I called her a wrinkled braggart) but they’re hard pressed to prove it.
I hate when people try to lord their goodness over you. I don’t care that your family spends their summer with Habitat For Humanity. I spend every day working for the Habitat For Hilarity.
I get quickly snippy when someone tells me, as happened yesterday, that their next day is going to be busy because they’re volunteering at the school and have to ‘entertain 600 kids’ and how noisy it’ll be. I blinked at her and said,
“Six hundred pennies and a bunch of open electrical outlets will quiet them down pretty quick.”
Sheesh! ‘Helpful’ people sure don’t like it when others try to cut into their action.
I hope you all do something to help out. It’s the right thing to do. But I don’t want to hear about it. Sure, if I see you in the ocean pulling baby seals to safety I’ll applaud your action. But if you have to tell me all about it in a wave of self-righteousness don’t be surprised when I tell you of my latest endeavor. I’m opening a bar called Club Baby Seals.
It’s not that I mind listening to stories, gawd knows I hear my share. But it’s when the story comes with the expectation that I’m supposed to carve your graven image from the mountaintop that I begin to irk. It’s that type of person who’d use this site – http://www.youvebeenleftbehind.com/ – to get one last, ‘I told you so’ in to their loved ones.
The woman prattled on with her resume of rectitude. This council, that society, this federation, that association. But because this wasn’t an event where I could be too Zell-like I had to stand there politely.
I’m not saying it was torture because I have a few tricks when confronted with a non-stop discourser:
1) think of ways to work with it (hence this bit)
2) Go EBS.
EBS is when I play the Emergency Broadcast System in my head (I know it’s called EAS now but EBS sounds better). That keeps my head from accepting pretty much all outside noise. As an aside, I worked in a radio station when this was recorded and it was eerie to hear the one you’d better hope you never hear.
I could tell the woman asked me a question (her mouth was closed) so I reengage and tried to figure out what to do. The good thing about people like this is if you don’t answer in a tenth of a second they’ll reiterate the question in a more dramatic manner.
“I’m serious when I say the joy you receive by helping out is astounding.”
“Oh,” I say knowing she’s not going to like what I’m about to say even if I don’t actually know what it will be. “I help out when I can. I know how important it is.”
Hey! I must be growing up! That was a pretty adult thing to say!
“As a matter of fact,” Oh shit, I’m gonna do it. “I help out the homeless.”
“Yeah, I give many of them their start. I’m an arsonist.”