I got to Grand Central a little late yesterday morning, and there were a few too many people crowded on the platform. I took my place behind them and pulled a magazine out of my bag to take my mind off the heat and, you know, my loathing of all New Yorkers, when this girl not much older than I am walked right up and crammed herself and her giant duffel bag into a space in front of me that should’ve fit no more than a quarter of her. I let it go for a moment, not wanting to break a sweat, but when the train pulled up, I realized I wasn’t going to get a spot if I didn’t act fast. So I took one step to the side and one step forward and then outright pushed the girl back to make room for myself. She let out a huge scoff, I half-turned my head and smiled in victory, and she moved to a different line of people to try her luck there.
Later at work, I called a deli to order food for a training class that was taking place in the office and asked, “Can you have it here no later than 11:45? I won’t be available to sign for it after that.” The woman assured me it was no problem, and I got a call from the deliveryman that I should come to the lobby and sign for it at 11:44. Pleased that they were true to their word, I imagined myself thanking the guy for his promptness and giving him an outrageously large tip. But when I got downstairs to the lobby, there was no one there. And I realized that the guy had called me a few minutes ahead of time, figuring it’d take me a while to get downstairs, NOT REALIZING THAT I HAD A LUNCH DATE 80-SOME BLOCKS UPTOWN AND NEEDED TO ACTUALLY LEAVE ON TIME. So when he arrived, I didn’t smile politely, I didn’t thank him, and I slashed that tip to a shell of its former self.
Then yesterday evening, I was walking toward the exit of CVS when this very large woman stepped right out in front of me from a side aisle. She was wearing a huge orange tunic that screamed, “I am fat! Pay attention to me!” I sped up a step to pass her, but she cut me off and then walked as slooooooooooooowly as possible down the aisle, listening to her iPod and pretending not to notice that I was patiently waiting for her to git goin’. Finally, she stopped and turned to look at something on one of the shelves, and I took my opportunity to rush past her, being careful to brush against her bag and sort of push it off her shoulder. She said, “Jesus!”, but I kept on walking in my seersucker dress, swinging my white leather clutch and generally feeling superior.
But then I left the store and thought, Maybe these people don’t see me as the Robin Hood of Rudeness that I am. Maybe they don’t understand that I’m robbing from the rude-rich and giving to the rude-poor. (Namely myself.) Maybe they think I’m just being plain obnoxious like I think they are. Maybe they’re trying to teach me a lesson.
But surely not, right?
10 Comments
I totally understand that your rudeness is reactionary only. But genuinely rude people never seem to realize that they’re being rude in the first place, so I’m sure they think you’re the rude one in the situation.
Except for that delivery guy. He knew he was in trouble and was trying to cover his ass.
So is the solution to stop being rude back to people or to just let them know WHY I’m being rude back to them? I always secretly hope that someone will pipe up and say something to them just so I can explain that I’m never like that unless provoked. Just like I hate leaving less than 15% tip, because I don’t want to have to be the weird girl who writes a note at the bottom of the receipt listing the things my waiter could’ve done to get their full reward.
I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but you are rude.
All these years of stealing from the rude-rich and keeping it for yourself has resulted in your own little rude-fortune. I no longer consider you part of the rude-poor nation, and see nothing wrong with others being rude to you.
You know what? I’m okay with being rude-rich myself if this rude-fortune you speak of is something physical I can swim around in a la Scrooge McDuck’s vault of gold coins. I scoff the rude-poor and embrace my wealth, which–funnily enough–still allows me to be rude. Only now instead of waiting for people to be rude to me first so I can seek revenge, I get to be the aggressor. HaHA!
I have to agree with the comments on here. I like to treat other people rudeness with apathy. Especially those people who are being rude just for the sake of being rude. Don’t give them the satisfaction of acknowledgment.
But . . . but . . . what about MY satisfaction?! I can’t just let people push me around! I’m not a Christian, so that whole “turn the other cheek” rule doesn’t apply to me!
Eh, you don’t seem THAT rude. Just impatient and cranky with all those people around you. I don’t know how you stand it!
Indeed. Much like Aaron Earl Luke Warren, I have two middle names, and they are Impatient and Cranky.
I do so hate it when people are remarkably inconsiderate of things like the flow of (carless) human traffic in public places, personal space, etc. I don’t really get the impulse to repay rude-for-rude, but I DO revel in smug satisfaction that I’m probably a smarter and more well-adjusted person than they are.
six of one, half a dozen of the other.
I am so pleased that you wear seersucker. Not only that you wear it, but that you want everyone to know that you wear it. It truly is a noteworthy material.
That’s totally my defense, too, when I can’t get back at someone for whatever reason. I was going up some stairs at a station on Friday, and these two kids came running down my side (the WRONG side, for them); I tried to hold my ground, but one of the kids yelled something at me in another language, and I got all frustrated and moved over just as they passed. I felt bad about it all night, but now I’m consoling myself with the fact that they were minorities, teenagers, and rude. Being smart pretty much makes me feel superior in every situation; I’m glad you understand that.
And yes, not only do I love seersucker, but I wanted to really emphasize the fact that I am classy and this woman was wearing ORANGE.