Why is everyone so rude?

It's friday, and I should be joyfully looking forward to Happy Hour and then the weekend, so this subject is kind of strange for today. But what is going on? Why are people so darn rude?

If I call somewhere for a question or for (God forbid) "customer service" first I can't connect with a live person. I get someone's recording or (worse) one of those self-service phone message circuits in which they toy with you while having you punch in your social security number, date of birth, account number (which you wrote down on a sticky eons ago and presently the sticky is lying in the bottom of one of your summer purses that you have not used since last year), then after that you get to pick among five choices, none of which apply to you, so you hit zero in the hopes that maybe that will get you to the operator, but it doesn't... ok, enough, you get my drift. So essentially that company has just told you by their lack of caring to go frig yourself (notice that I'm keeping my blog clean for now, there is only one "damn" in the whole thing, pretty good).

Then if by chance you hit a sequence of numbers that the phone computer can't figure out what to do with and a live person comes on the phone with a voice that seems like they just woke up from a nap, they usually can't help you, you need a pin, you need the correct account number (where did I put that purse?), they can't DO what your silly, whiny, insignificant self is asking for, and you have basically mistaken them for someone who gives a darn.

And this happens not only with businesses but also with people in general. I work on a university campus. I cross paths with people all the time, some of them will not even look at you to say "hello," even though you have talked to them countless times and they know who you are and they know you know who they are... this gets so complicated.
I can also say that also in my dealings as the customer service provider, I come across people who do not how to say "Good Afternoon" or "Please" or "Thank you," people who I'm trying to help with a problem and I'm treating politely and nevertheless they call me "sweetheart" (As in "No, sweetheart, I'm not an admitted student"). I really hate that. I never, EVER, call anyone sweetheart or anything like that. It's rude, it's not polite, it's not professional.

Another item that bothers me: People who are talking on their cell phones or with another person and they think no one hears their moronic, inane, and frankly boring, conversations. Please speak quietly in public places, no one wants to hear the conversation you are having, the breakup with your boyfriend, what you had for lunch, etc. Hint for rude people: Guess what, folks, profanity is rude! If I'm talking to a good friend, or on the phone where no one hears me, or at home, or talking privately on the cell phone, I'm the first to interject certain words that make the conversation, shall we say "flavorful." But I hate it when I have to hear other people using these words in front of me. I don't subject anyone to my profanity and neither should you.

Also, people, parking spaces are not important in the scheme of things. Think about it. If you weasel into someone's parking space that they were patiently waiting for before you rounded the corner, let them park there. Ok, so you're going to have to park a little farther away, so what? Another thing, if you are driving behind a blue hair (what we yanks call senior citizens) going 15 mph, don't honk, don't behave like an ass (I mean ass in the sense of donkey), remember that person is a grandmother or grandfather or maybe he/she was single and didn't have kids or grandkids but we have to value older people (I swear I would never call them blue hairs to their faces) and we do have to respect others regardless of age, sex, gender, religion, etc.

Ok, whew! That felt good. I'm ready for Happy Hour! Or as we call it in my age group (glorious fifty-somethings): "Content Hour." Besitos, everyone!!!

Happy-Happy-Joy-Joy!`

Oh Joy! It's Monday! I know it sounds really crazy but for me it's very reassuring to come back to the (supposed) level-headedness of the work week. Told you it was gonna sound crazy.

During the weekend, my ordered, organized little world is turned upside-down by the extra time I have on my hands, the whims of friends and family that want to barbecue for me or want to have me cook them breakfast, the possibility of sleeping late till I slobber on my pillowcase, the lack of pressure of having to get up and have to take a quick shower and run out the door like a madwoman. If I have nothing at all to do, or even if I have a lot to do but I choose to ignore it, I can spend hours looking at sappy, old black and white movies on TV. After hours and hours of watching these movies, i cannot for the life of me remember what I watched. It's kind of frightening not to have a schedule, not to have to be here or there at a certain time, not to have to get stuff done...

So when Monday morning comes around, I have a sense of security at knowing more or less what I will face for the next 8 hours, to know that I am actually NEEDED somewhere, have to show up and do my part in a little part of the world. Coming to my little office is a pleasure, I have access to everything, my computer is super-fast, I get to see my work friends that I love, catch up on the latest gossip over coffee or IM's, I am surrounded by pictures, little knick-knacks that co-workers have brought me from their world travels, my plants that depend on me for their very lives (and always need watering), my schedule that keeps me on task, having coffee at 10:30, lunch at 12:30, break again at 3:30, leave at 5, etc... So reassuring, so safe, so predictable.

Happy-Happy-Joy-Joy!!!! 

Why Suicide? Why Blonde?

If you were alive in the 80's you will remember the INXS song "Suicide Blonde." I loved INXS, and since I became a blonde by accident I identified with this song... So much so that it became my nickname in the Prodigy chat rooms for many years, and yes, I'm aware that I'm dating myself. I don't care.

How I became a blonde: I was a happy brunette all my life, until I began getting gray hair in my early 30's. Since at that time I was having babies, I wanted to look younger, fresher. My then husband, the father of my babies, hated gray hair so I started using a rinse to cover the gray. THEN I made the big mistake of getting a perm because my hair is very fine and I needed "volume." Well, the woman who did my permanent left it in for like 2 hours and stupid me had no clue that that was way too long for a perm. When she took out the little perm rollers my hair was blonde, and when my hair dried I looked like a blonde Bozo the Clown who had stuck his finger in the electric plug. When I got home, my husband opened the door and laughed till he cried. I just cried. That was the beginning of my (suicide) blondeness...

Now, in my (very early) fifties, I feel great as a blonde and I don't care how much I spend on L'Oreal Medium Ash Blonde No. 71/2, it's well worth it. It's funny how different "accidents" or "events" can change lives drastically. My hair color change was not such a drastic one but others have been.

For example: I got mugged once. The mugging in itself was horrible, it was the first time I had ever been assaulted, I felt defiled, vulnerable, exposed. But the consequences of being mugged were worse than the mugging itself.

I was 26, single, recently moved to this city where I knew no one, felt like a complete alien from another planet, hated everything, was living with my parents and could not go on my own because I didn't make enough money... I had been saving my money to move back to where I had come from, back to my unavailable boyfriend whom I loved, back to my friends and the city I loved, back to where I understood people, where they understood me. I was homesick and wanted to go back but a ticket and a move would cost me beaucoup bucks.

The day I got mugged, I was full of resolve to go back or die. I gathered some items I had collected through the years, a set of coral ring and earrings made of solid 18kt gold, a promise ring with a small diamond from a high school boyfriend, some gold coins I had bought with some extra money. I gathered these things and took them on my lunch hour to a jewelry store to have them appraised, thinking I could sell them and buy my ticket back.

Well, I got mugged that day after work and they took every last thing of value I had. Apparently, they had been watching me and following me and waited for their chance to get me, and they did.

The person they left on the sidewalk after they wrestled my purse away from me was not the same person that had gotten up that morning. My will was broken, my valuables were gone, my destiny was changed...