I petition whatever court need be contacted to invoke a world-wide rule that one should not accost others with comments or questions before one can remove their coat and sit the hell down.
It started in the parking lot, the armor of my car no protection. I was being tailgated. I stopped near the parking spot I wanted, with the intention of pulling forward then backing into the spot. As I waited, the tailgater practically attached their car to my tail, then honked, loudly.
Of course, having looked in the rearview, I knew it was someone I knew, who apparently didn’t recogonize me. I waved her around and she pulled into the spot next to the one I would pull forward then back into.
After seeing it was me: “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was you.”
Me: (thought bubble) So you’d be a jerk to someone you didn’t know, but if it’s me, then you’re sorry?
Her: “I never understood why people back in anyway.” (This is commonly referred to as deflection, as in it’s your fault I was an asshole because you’re doing something I wouldn’t do.)
Me: *restraining from using the finger gesture that comment warranted* “I back in then it’s easier to just pull out of the space.”
Her: “Well, it’s difficult to back in, isn’t it? Six of one…”
Me: *contemplating explaining my years of practice making me an expert; decide against expending precious oxygen and energy on that.* I glance around the room deciding which wall would be best for head-banging.
Me: Still with my coat on, trying to get my coat off and hang it up.
Her: “The plug won’t reach. The typewriter. I don’t know why it was moved. I can’t type.”
Me: “If I could just take my coat off.”
Me: Takes my coat off, hangs it up, does three deep breaths. “We needed the space for other things. We’ll get an extension cord.” A glance to the right… oh, look! An extension cord! I walk to where the typewriter now lives. “Here,” I say, giving it more to the machine than to her.
Me: Sit down, coat-free, finally. Drink water. Enjoy more deep breaths.
Her: Questions continue, but the voice has turned into Charlie Brown’s teacher because it’s too early for this shit.
Her: “Do you have a minute? I don’t know what this email means.” (email not from me).
Me: …. *crickets* … eating yogurt… *more crickets* … … “Maybe in a bit.”
Deep breaths are delightful, especially when not wearing your winter coat.
So is Advil.
Things can only go up from here.