Pardon Me…Do You Have Any Grey Poupon?

 
Photo courtesy of http://today.msnbc.msn.com/id/17067009

I hope you’re ready for a good old fashioned Jlee rant.  It’s been too long.  AND, yet again, I have to explain etiquette to the “someone’s” of the world who just don’t seem to get it.  I don’t get what they don’t get?  It’s not difficult.  You learned this in kindergarten, folks.  Or maybe you didn’t?

It’s called manners. 

The world today ceases to exist without the formalities of “please” and “thank you.” Personally, I find this to be completely unacceptable, but you can’t force niceties on people.  Apparently I was the only person who was excused from the table without dinner if I said, “Pass the salt,” instead of “Please pass the salt.”  Go to bed hungry a couple times, and I guarantee you won’t forget “please” and “thank you” even in your adult years.  But, I digress.

Side note, you know how when you’re a kid you swear that you will never ever do anything the way your parents did?  You’ll raise your kids differently, you say.  Well, it’s funny how things change when you’re the one shaping a new person’s identity; when you’re the parent.  I can assure you that my daughter will say please and thank you or she will be leaving the table without dinner.  Check back in about 30 years when she has her own blog about all the horrible things her parents did to her….

Back to manners.

I have exceptional manners.  And I’m not bragging here, I’m just being honest.  I’m almost overly polite.  People get annoyed because I’ll say “thank you” about 5 times in my morning Dunkin Donuts visits along with always saying “I’d like an iced coffee please.” {Note the please at the end of the sentence.}

I say thank you so much that I’m the person saying “thank you” for no reason at all.  Someone calls me for a favor, and I will respond “No problem, I’ll get that taken care of.  Thank you.”

Thank you for what?  For calling me and asking me to do something for you? WTF?

But it’s a habit for me now.  And besides, I like saying please and thank you.  I like being polite.  But apparently not everyone else does….

Lacking as much as please and thank you these days is “excuse me.”  No one says “excuse me” anymore.  I don’t get it?  People will bump into you, step on your foot or almost down right knock you to the ground, and they still won’t utter an excuse me. 

This annoys me.  This drives me f’ing crazy actually. 

I love the person who stands on top of you in line at Jewel.  Then they bump into you.  They say nothing.  Then they bump into you again.  Still nothing.  I want to turn around and punch this person.

For one, back off man.  I don’t need to feel your breath on my neck.  I actually have a saying I picked up from the movie Dirty Dancing.  “This is my dance space – and this is yours.”  That means GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY PERSONAL SPACE!

Number two, you are bumping into me.  Don’t you feel it?  If I feel it, I’m sure you feel it. You know you just bumped into me.  Why do you not say excuse me? 

And yes, I am the one who will cut someone off in traffic.  I do realize this is equally as rude, but I guess I sort of feel protected by my car.  It is as if my car serves as some sort of a buffer for manners…not just for me but for many drivers.  That is why people are so rude to one another in traffic.  You’re not actually face-to-face so you can act like an a-hole without facing the person one-on-one.  It’s kind of a chicken shit thing to do if you think about it, but I suppose I am actually a chicken shit sometimes even though I act like I’m sooo tough.

In fact, that is why I am writing this blog.  Yesterday at work this woman who works in my building almost walked right into me.  Our shoulders touched as she walked by me.  I moved slightly to the right trying to bypass her as I gave her a smile.  She completely ignored my smile, stared at me with her snarled face (you’d think I killed her cat or something?), and then continued to walk down the center of the hallway.

Um….excuse me?  Am I invisible to you?  Do you see me here?  If I didn’t move to the right did she think she could just walk right through me?  Or was she just going to tackle me like Walter Payton and step over me as I lay on my back in the hallway?  Please knock me down next time, Bitch, because Mama needs a new car!  Now I’m being facetious.

Why exactly do people do this?  I mean not get the fuck out of the way.  Why must they insist on not moving over when someone is walking towards them?!?  I’m not saying you have to completely move out of the way, but just step to the side.  You know, move over. 

Another object people will use as a buffer is a shopping cart.  I can’t tell you how many times at Walmart someone has tried to run me over with their God damn shopping cart.  Whether you have a cart or not the other person doesn’t care.  They WILL hit you with their cart. 

One time at Walmart some years back someone was about to hit me with their cart.  No shit, I grabbed the cart and shook it vigorously as I yelled, “Excuse me?!?”  And then the person looks at me like I’M the crazy one?

This was back in my psycho days though.  And now?  Now I’m still crazy, but I’d rather just write a blog bitching about how stupid other people are.  And I don’t need that kind of confrontation in my life anymore.  And I don’t shop at Walmart anymore. 

Just remembering the incident has actually raised my blood pressure.  I get too emotional.  I get angry.  Why don’t people understand how rude they are being?  Why don’t people get it?  Am I the only one with any common sense?

I love the people that expect me to move when I’m pushing my baby in her stroller on the sidewalk.  You are walking by – you can’t move over a foot?  An inch?  You walk straight at me?  What am I going to do, run someone over with my Graco stroller?  Maybe I actually would if my 4 month old baby wasn’t sitting inside.  So, now I’m the one pushing my stroller through the grass while you walk down the middle of the sidewalk without so much as even muttering a “hello” as you push by me.  The nerve.

People don’t care if you’re with an old person either.  My grandma, yes my Grandma Bonnie of Bonnie’s Braves, well, she’s not old.  She’s only 69.  But, because she has Alzheimer’s Disease she has reverted slightly back to her child-like days.  Roles are now reversed and it’s as if I am the parent and she is the child.  Like that isn’t stressful enough, but now I’m trying to walk my grandma through a Blain’s Farm & Fleet.  Yeah, I was at Blain’s Farm & Fleet; please don’t go there, it’s embarrassing enough for me.  Anyways, could you imagine what my Italian Papa would do to me if I lost my grandma in Farm & Fleet?  Good lord. 

Now my grandma (love her to death) is walking through Farm & Fleet like a five-year-old where she’s gotta touch everything.  She says, “Isn’t this cute?” about everything.  I don’t have the heart to tell her, “Grandma, we’re at Farm & Fleet.  Nothing here is cute.”  So I smile and nod all while keeping an eye on her and trying to get us in and out of this store as quickly as possible and all in one piece.

Well, I’ll be damned, someone practically runs my grandma over.  Sure she’s wondering around aimlessly.  But she’s an old lady!  Cut her some slack man.  Oh how I’d wished my aunt was with us.  I didn’t have it in me to start a fight with this woman, but my aunt sure would have.  It didn’t matter though because my grandma sure did.  The lady was down the aisle a ways when my grandma turned to me and loudly said, “What in the hell is she in such a hurry for?  I outta cold cock her…”

Cold cock…isn’t that saying hilarious?  That’s my grandma’s favorite saying.  She always talks about how she’s going to “cold cock” someone.  She says it to my papa, too.  He’ll say, “Bonnie, you need to take your medicine.”

She’ll look at me and say, “Yeah, he thinks he’s the boss of me.  He ain’t the boss of me.  I outta cold cock him.”

My grandma isn’t Italian for the record.  Or big.  She’s this tiny five foot tall Irish lady.  She cracks me up.  And you guys think my bad temper comes solely from my Italian blood. HA!

But, now I went off another tangent. 

In closing, remember your “please” and “thank you’s.”  Remember your “excuse me’s” because you never know who’s behind you and you may just get cold cocked by my grandma.

Click here if you want to watch the old commercial: {The Grey Poupon commercial}

 
 
 
 
 

 

 

 

2 thoughts on “Pardon Me…Do You Have Any Grey Poupon?

  1. I’m a 47 year old woman and I consider myself very polite but I’ve come to the realization that it’s not worth it to be so polite anymore. I have never said please so much but I find myself always saying thank you. For example when a cashier gives me my change I used to say thank you, but it is the cashier who should be saying thank you not me. If I feel that a store employee has been nice to me I will say thanks , if they’re just so-so I don’t say anything anymore.

  2. Why must people be all about “hooray for me & fuck you”. Makes me sick. Here in Brooklyn the other day, some dude was wacked out on smack or something-he looked dead lying on the sidewalk. As I was going over to him, there are the fucking people stepping over him to get on there way! He was OK-just resting, but still, What the hell is going on here?I love these blogs- but does she think this artical is going to get people to say “thank you”? Good luck with that. Too few folks with real “class”. There all in the ground- the generations are becomming more arrogant, snobby, selfish,spoiled & annoying .

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