I have often been told that I have a lot pf patience when people discover I work with elementary age children. For them, that statement is 100% true. I have plenty of patience for my students even on the days when they seem to find that last nerve and bounce all over it. However, that statement falls woefully short when it comes to dealing with the adults that roam around this world.
I am finding it more and more difficult to keep my patience around the idiotic individuals masquerading as mature these days. When I feel like I need to use teacher voice on the parents rather than the children, on the people living in the building next door and on the drivers of the LA streets, something has gone terribly wrong.What happened to taking responsibility for your actions? What happened to the words "please", "thank you", "excuse me" and "I apologize"? What happened to moving out of the way when you know you are completely blocking the sidewalk to have a conversation that shouldn't be for public consumption? For that matter what happened to non public conversations? I am so sick and tired of hearing you loudly talk on your cell phone.
Patience is a virtue but for how much longer I will be blessed with that virtue I am not certain. The actions of the many (as it is quite more than just a few) are digging in. My patience is wearing thin.
Showing posts with label manners. Show all posts
Showing posts with label manners. Show all posts
Monday, February 25, 2013
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Beep Beep!
The coyote hears "Beep! Beep!" and he's off to chase the roadrunner. His hunger, much like Pavlov's dog, is triggered by a sound. So too is our world controlled. It was simple at first. We awoke to the sound of an alarm clock. We waited for the sound of the beep for the answering machine to record our message.The novelty of quick cooking created the microwave whose beeps alerted us to the finished food. From there, we moved on to car alarms which honked or should I say beeped the car's horn to alert us that someone was too close to our vehicle. Pagers and cell phones were next on the scene; Convenient devices which control us with the sound of a beep. Beeping, incessantly loud beep, beep beeps surround our lives on a daily basis.
Not only are we inundated by this sound but we are controlled by, slaves to and victims of it as well. How many times have you caught yourself hearing a beep and wondering if it was you? How many times have you said "Was that my phone or yours?", during the course of a conversation? How many times has a car door being opened by the remote triggered you to check your phone? How many times have you ignored the person with you to check the mechanical device beeping at you just to see who it was and if a message or text was left? How many times have you shushed a clerk, waiter, waitress or other service person doing his or her job so that you could answer the call of the beep (ring or other tone for that matter)? We are all guilty of doing all of the above to some degree. There are individuals more guilty than others but for the most part we are all now giant experiments trained to respond to a beep.
We lived without the beeps for years. We answered calls and others received a busy signal. If it was really important an operator would actually break through. We now are oddly aware of little noises signalling an incoming message. We jump to our phones like good little doggies. We hear car doors and automatically check our purses, packs and pockets to see if it was for us. Now we are all trained that the sound of the beep must be instantly answered and the flesh and blood individual with us is somehow less important than whoever sent a text, left a message or called.
Like every interesting science fiction film we must learn to break our programming. We must return to a world where people and manners matter. We must learn that whomever we intentionally chose to be with that day has priority over the caller at the end of the beep. We must remember that the person waiting on us, behind the counter or helping us in any form is the correct individual to engage in conversation and not the mechanical device attached by blue tooth or other means to our body. Keep in mind, the coyote was often hurt along the path of following the beep. He never learned. We can change our story. Beep, Beep!
Not only are we inundated by this sound but we are controlled by, slaves to and victims of it as well. How many times have you caught yourself hearing a beep and wondering if it was you? How many times have you said "Was that my phone or yours?", during the course of a conversation? How many times has a car door being opened by the remote triggered you to check your phone? How many times have you ignored the person with you to check the mechanical device beeping at you just to see who it was and if a message or text was left? How many times have you shushed a clerk, waiter, waitress or other service person doing his or her job so that you could answer the call of the beep (ring or other tone for that matter)? We are all guilty of doing all of the above to some degree. There are individuals more guilty than others but for the most part we are all now giant experiments trained to respond to a beep.
We lived without the beeps for years. We answered calls and others received a busy signal. If it was really important an operator would actually break through. We now are oddly aware of little noises signalling an incoming message. We jump to our phones like good little doggies. We hear car doors and automatically check our purses, packs and pockets to see if it was for us. Now we are all trained that the sound of the beep must be instantly answered and the flesh and blood individual with us is somehow less important than whoever sent a text, left a message or called.
Like every interesting science fiction film we must learn to break our programming. We must return to a world where people and manners matter. We must learn that whomever we intentionally chose to be with that day has priority over the caller at the end of the beep. We must remember that the person waiting on us, behind the counter or helping us in any form is the correct individual to engage in conversation and not the mechanical device attached by blue tooth or other means to our body. Keep in mind, the coyote was often hurt along the path of following the beep. He never learned. We can change our story. Beep, Beep!
Monday, October 17, 2011
Excuse me M'am
When did I go from being a Miss to being a M'am? I don't remember advertising to the masses. I don't remember rescinding my Miss title and yet more and more M'am keeps creeping into polite conversation when strangers address me.
"Give the book to the nice lady." said the mom to the child. I looked around to discover the nice lady was ME! "Are you a grown up?" asked the eight year old child confused by my overalls, backwards baseball cap, sneakers and chewing gum. "Technically I am." My answer confused her more.
Am I a grown up? Good question. I have a driver's license which first graced my wallet at the tender age of 27. Explaining that it's your first license at the DMV is less than amusing.Responding to people with the words "I had no desire to drive," just fell on deaf ears and blank stares.
Am I a grown up? I've lived in my own apartment for well past a decade. All the bills are in my name. I'm employed;some would say I have a career. I can stay out as long as I like and have no one to report to when I get home at night.
Am I a grown up? I watch Saturday morning cartoons. I play kickball with the kids at school. I dance without being afraid of looking like a fool. I laugh out loud in public and declare tickle wars on my friends. I mix my sodas. I still drink Slurpees. I eat chocolate for dinner.
Inside I am a miss. I still get called miss but not as often as once upon a time. Am I a grown up? Again I say, good question. Technically I am. I can accept that I am a grown up; But I am still NOT a M'am!
"Give the book to the nice lady." said the mom to the child. I looked around to discover the nice lady was ME! "Are you a grown up?" asked the eight year old child confused by my overalls, backwards baseball cap, sneakers and chewing gum. "Technically I am." My answer confused her more.
Am I a grown up? Good question. I have a driver's license which first graced my wallet at the tender age of 27. Explaining that it's your first license at the DMV is less than amusing.Responding to people with the words "I had no desire to drive," just fell on deaf ears and blank stares.
Am I a grown up? I've lived in my own apartment for well past a decade. All the bills are in my name. I'm employed;some would say I have a career. I can stay out as long as I like and have no one to report to when I get home at night.
Am I a grown up? I watch Saturday morning cartoons. I play kickball with the kids at school. I dance without being afraid of looking like a fool. I laugh out loud in public and declare tickle wars on my friends. I mix my sodas. I still drink Slurpees. I eat chocolate for dinner.
Inside I am a miss. I still get called miss but not as often as once upon a time. Am I a grown up? Again I say, good question. Technically I am. I can accept that I am a grown up; But I am still NOT a M'am!
Monday, October 3, 2011
A sign of the times
Apparently it is NOT just me many other people feel the same way as I do. This would be a good time to revisit a previous post I call "Belt America".
Monday, August 8, 2011
Meeting in the Ladies Room
Ladies I call this meeting in order to discuss an incredibly serious matter. It is bad enough that we as women have so few stalls installed in public places but the fact that the ones we have are so filthy is absolutely appalling. Case in point: Saturday night I was waiting for the one available restroom at a local pub. I went in, pulled out the safety cloth that's supposed to protect us from each other's cooties and went to place it on the toilet seat. As I lowered the threadbare sheet I noticed what at first appeared to be a new pattern on the seat. In actuality it was a shoe print;a filthy black tread mark from someone's sneaker.
When I was first taken into a public restroom as a child, my mom told me to take some tissue and clean the seat in case you lost your balance, squat, and clean up after yourself. I really don't remember too much being left on seats or stalls and absolutely no shoe prints ever. What has happened? How did women's restrooms become filthy? As someone who has also worked in a restaurant and been in the men's room I can honestly say overall the men's room is cleaner than the women's room. I do not like being able to say this.
Time after time I have entered a stall and found pee on the seats, unwrapped pads/tampons on top of the garbage (or even on the floor), unflushed toilets, paper stuck to seats.... It's disgusting to find that most women are actually incapable of using a public toilet. We are supposedly fastidious females. We are greatly missing the mark (and the toilet) when it comes to public peeing. This situation cannot continue. You are not at home. You are in a public place that many others will eventually have to use.
The floor is not a garbage can. Not all toilets automatically flush. It is just common courtesy to wrap your pads/tampons and dispose of them properly. Just because YOU do not have to clean the public restroom it doesn't mean there isn't another human being who won't be subjected to your bloody mess. Think how you would feel having to clean some strangers waste. Please remember a rhyme we teach children in elementary upon your next visit to a public facility, "If you sprinkle when you tinkle please be neat and wipe the seat."
When I was first taken into a public restroom as a child, my mom told me to take some tissue and clean the seat in case you lost your balance, squat, and clean up after yourself. I really don't remember too much being left on seats or stalls and absolutely no shoe prints ever. What has happened? How did women's restrooms become filthy? As someone who has also worked in a restaurant and been in the men's room I can honestly say overall the men's room is cleaner than the women's room. I do not like being able to say this.
Time after time I have entered a stall and found pee on the seats, unwrapped pads/tampons on top of the garbage (or even on the floor), unflushed toilets, paper stuck to seats.... It's disgusting to find that most women are actually incapable of using a public toilet. We are supposedly fastidious females. We are greatly missing the mark (and the toilet) when it comes to public peeing. This situation cannot continue. You are not at home. You are in a public place that many others will eventually have to use.
The floor is not a garbage can. Not all toilets automatically flush. It is just common courtesy to wrap your pads/tampons and dispose of them properly. Just because YOU do not have to clean the public restroom it doesn't mean there isn't another human being who won't be subjected to your bloody mess. Think how you would feel having to clean some strangers waste. Please remember a rhyme we teach children in elementary upon your next visit to a public facility, "If you sprinkle when you tinkle please be neat and wipe the seat."
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