I’ve always admired people who seem to have an endless supply of love and adoration for the human race. Y’know those people who are always helping, or hosting shin digs, or being all around good people, constantly making the rest of us look like jackasses? I don’t know where they get the notion that an inherent goodness exists in people, but I’m fucking jealous. I want it. Instead I’m stuck with an all-consuming cynicism. Don’t get me wrong, sometimes I have a super-stellar-fucking-day where I change my mind briefly, and get really doughey-eyed over the beauty in people and in life while I’m shitting rainbows and crying angel dust, but for the most part, people tire and exhaust me. And please, before you get all huffy and do-gooder on me, I don’t hate people, just generally want to be far, far away from (very modestly) … 99.999% of them. This fact is made worse by the fact that I’m usually in some kind of customer service position in order to make my living, where I’m paid, essentially, peanuts to rectify situations that are petty and usually that I’m not even a part of. So for the love of god, as a representative of men, women, more broadly just humans – please don’t be any of the following people. Or I’ll find out where you live and burn your fucking house down.
The guy that eats subway in the middle of a lecture hall. There are no words, just kidding there are a lot of fucking words, that can describe the level of anger I experience when someone waddles into a lecture hall with subway. This person will always be late, because despite huge efforts, Subway can never get their shit together. The Subway holding savage will try not to slam the door, but will, and then will promptly scan the lecture hall to decide where he’ll inflict the most damage he possibly can. Right in the middle of the lecture hall. The culprit will never wait for there to be a natural lull in the lecture and will decide to open the horribly loud, stinky thing the second he plops his ass down. The unwrapping is by far the worst part. Partly because it’ll take the person 20 minutes to get it just so, but mostly because of the sheer volume the paper creates. I don’t know if you’ve ever been in a lecture hall, but they have a huge echo. They’re designed for 200 students to hear the voice of one teacher without audio equipment. Do you know what else it’s designed for? To catapult the sound of Subway unwrapping to the irritated ears of 200 students. What are you doing, wrapping Christmas presents? Stop. This noise is compounded by it’s horrible smell that is left behind. No Subway does not actually smell good, it smells like rotting rectums. Rotting rectums do not belong in a lecture hall, okay?
The person audibly horking/in the middle of an epic battle with mucus in a library/office/one foot away from my face. ‘Tis the season for sickness, I get it. We love to share germs and be disgusting together. However, if you’re trying to choke up what sounds like a mucus wad the size of a tennis ball, can you politely excuse yourself away from my earshot and eyesight? Despite what you may think, I’m not interested in being aware of your phlegm schedule and would LOVE it if you could take it elsewhere.
The person that leaves their shitty grocery cart in the middle of the aisle and then proceeds to squat in front of it so that no one can get around the human bridge of bullshit they’ve constructed. DON’T BE THAT GUY. WE ALL NEED TO ACCESS THE DORITOS OKAY? I’m not sure in what universe you need to stare at/analyze/drool over the two different flavors of Doritos. Can you pick one and be on your way? Or else I’m going to play bumper carts with your cart and throw your cheese block at your head. Guess who’s got two thumbs and doesn’t give a shit that that’s the last of the Gouda? This guy.
A complete disregard for what I lovingly have coined as the “sound barrier”. It’s that imaginary bubble that you exist in at any given time with the people that you are currently associating with. The sound barrier requires a certain level of volume for your shitty story to remain within it and not in the ears of every single person in the building. So, if you decide to yell to your friends, instead of talk like a normal person, about how you almost went home with some chick that had oddly large hands for a woman SO loudly that 6 tables away can hear the perfect voice cracks in your pre-pubescent, whore voice, you’ve officially broken the sound barrier. And my will to live.
Say it with me? Don’t. Be. That. Fucking. Guy.