Those People

There are moments, and I believe “epiphany” would be too strong of a word to describe these moments, when you truly understand an aspect of someone for the first time.  I’m not talking about a really dramatic moment of comprehension, more of a mundane revelation—a comment or action that makes you mentally say to your friend, “Oh.  You’re one of those people.” 

Like, maybe you’re in a library, and you see your friend walk through the door, so you wave sociably at her, and she grins, happy to see you, and walks over to you and your books.

Then begins talking.  Loudly.  (Or at least loudly for a library, where the “no talking” rule is so well-known that every caricature of a librarian seems to take the form of a cross-looking woman wearing thick glasses and shushing someone.)

Your friend is one of those people.

Now, even though we don’t terminate relationships over moments like these, because, really, they’re just puzzle pieces falling into place…

OK, to be real with you, I’ve totally terminated relationships over moments like these.  Jerks talking in a library?  Someone not tipping a waiter or waitress?  People using the wrong “your/you’re?” 

Unfriended.

(I’m exaggerating a little, but, really folks, tip your servers)

However, it’s the holiday season, and the end of an old year, so I’m proposing we be more accepting, because I have to admit, there has been many a time when I have committed certain cardinal sins for which I would condemn others.

Faux-Philosophical Dialogue at Inappropriate Venues

The cliché here would be college students at a bar, throwing around big words and metaphysical arguments, trying to impress each other and all of those within hearing distance.  People find this behavior irritating because 1) a person does not generally go to a bar to listen to an egotistical remix of Ethics 101.  And 2) These people are usually incorrect in ways that would make you look like a douchebag for contesting, so you have to sit there and let these people think they are intellectually superior to all. 

I don’t even know why I continue to despise this behavior so much, because I am a repeat offender of over-sharing Things No One Cares About.  Recently, I was out drinking with my friends, and, for the first hour we were out, right when I was about to finish my drink, I would find it refilled.  I thrilled everyone at the table by announcing, “There was this guy in Greek mythology, Sisyphus, who is supposed to be cursed to roll this stone up a hill for eternity, and every time he gets to the top, the stone rolls back down and he has to start again.  That’s sort of what I feel like, because my drink keeps filling up right before I finish it.  I am the Sisyphus of beer.”  Yes, the story tells just as well in print as it did in person.  Even though I was trying to impress no one (the metaphor just seemed really apt, and sharing it seemed very important), I was immediately struck by what an asshole I sounded like.  I was not even inebriated enough to, as what could be our generation’s anthem suggests we do in times of trouble, blame it on the alcohol. 

People Who Burst into Song, Unprompted

I do feel that Glee and general narcissism are largely to blame for this phenomenon.  I was in the cafeteria a couple weeks ago, waiting in line and trying to have a conversation with my sister, when this girl behind me started singing an off-key rendition of “Silent Night.” 

I glanced at Jess, “Well, it was,” I muttered.

It is a testament to how irritating this girl’s performance was that Jess did not tell me to be quiet. 

I don’t know what about the prospective meal of Salisbury steak and corn dogs prompted this girl to truly bellow out this particular Christmas carol, but, by God, I hope she did some sort of vocal warm-ups before dinner, because she was going for a golden ticket to Hollywood at the end of her performance.  The weirdest aspect of this was possibly that her friends (or the people I assume were her friends—though I would want my friends to physically restrain me if they heard me venture the beginning bars of any song in public) simply ignored her, as though this was a completely normal occurrence. 

But….OK, have you ever heard the song “Lipgloss” by Lil Mama, because, God help me, I have.  When my friend first told me about this song, I accused her of making it up.  When she indignantly showed me the music video, I told her just because she could rally up some people and produce a low-budget music video to a song about a cheap cosmetic product did not make her song legitimate.  Eventually I came around, though, and now whenever someone puts lipgloss on or even says the word lipgloss, I automatically “sing,” “My lipgloss be cool, my lipgloss be poppin’.”  It is as mortifying as you’d think to have this response to lipgloss, especially since I feel the song is, unsurprisingly, not extraordinarily memorable, so people generally think I’m just writing my own rap music.

People Who Think Their Thoughts and Experiences are Just That Interesting

Modern technology has led us to post our thoughts on Facebook, Twitter, or, if you’re really ambitious, a blog.  As a writer, I enjoy many aspects of technological communication, and as a fairly lazy person, I love the ease of staying in touch with my friends and knowing what’s going on with them without actually having to get off my ass. 

I just wish some people would be more entertaining.  Otherwise, I may actually have to get up and find a remote to turn on the television.

Some people have the most lackluster statuses.  “Just woke up.  Sitting on the couch, watching tv.”  “Did some laundry.  Will probably do more laundry later.  Will eventually have done all the laundry.” I’m not faulting these people for having boring lives, because, really, I spend 90% of my time reading and writing, but do you think the world is quite that interested in the going-ons of your life when you’re as close to doing nothing as a living human being can be without actually ceasing to exist?  Just wait for something neat to happen to you or post some song lyrics.

It gets bad, though, when people are the first and only to comment on their own statuses.  A new level of hubris has been reached.  If you’re not correcting some typo, wait for someone to care enough to comment and then respond accordingly.  The worst thing about this behavior is that I always mentally imagine this person congratulating himself/herself on such pithy, inspiring posts, or imagining the hundreds, nay, thousands of people sitting on the edge of their seats for a new update.  How irritating.

And yet, a year or so ago, I went to a David Sedaris reading.  As my friend and I were standing in line to get our books signed, we found ourselves consistently bowled over by eager, stronger readers who wanted their books signed first.  Suddenly a woman all but clothes-lined the approaching swarm of would-be line jumpers, and pulled my friend and me in front of her. 
“I hate when people do that,” she said, glaring at the teenagers behind us, and then smiling warmly and introducing herself. 

“Usually I’m much more patient,” she continued, apologetically “but I just quit my job from home and now I’m working in a corporate-setting.  The atmosphere is really frying my nerves.” 

I was genuinely interested in this woman. She looked about my mother’s age, had streaks of blue and pink in her hair, a nose-ring, and just had an air of intrigue about her. 

“What did you do from home?”  I asked, picturing something very bohemian that would lead to more conversation.

“I was a phone-sex operator,” she said.

I studiously ignored my friend, who I knew would have turned a bright shade of red and been unable to respond.  If I looked at her or caught her eye, I would not be responsible for whatever reaction I had.  And, right then, I had to keep up the verbal volley.

“Oh.  How nice.  And…why the switch to corporate?”

As the conversation went on, and the woman’s boyfriend encouraged her to share particular conversations and fetishes (there was one particular story about a Nightcrawler fetish I won’t delve into), I just kept thinking, “This would make a fantastic blog entry.  I wish I could sneakily update my Facebook status and non-creepily mention a phone-sex operator in a Facebook status, because this encounter has an air of unexpected majesty to it.”  

I couldn’t help but be a little self-important, but even as these thoughts intruded, there was an undertone of, “Wow, I think I’m a very important person, don’t I?” 

And so, I invite everyone to just take a few minutes and reflect on how often we fall short of our own standards.  Don’t even lower your standards, but perhaps cut those who don’t quite reach them some slack.  Recognize the people we can’t stand, the people we judge, the people we sometimes are.

Happy holidays and happy reading.