Tag Archives: overly helpful people

communication, condescending twatbags, LDS, overly helpful people, songs

“You feel lots of rage. That means you’re right. Congratulations.”

You might say today’s post is a continuation of the one I wrote on Monday. I probably shouldn’t write this, because no one seems interested in the post that is parenting it. But I’m not known for having the ability to let things go. 😉

As I was sitting here pondering what I wanted to blog about today, now that my Armenia series is finished, I considered a few topics. There’s the controversy over Dolly Parton’s impressive Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader outfit for her halftime show on Thanksgiving Day. I have seen the performance, and I think Dolly rocked it. She looked pretty awesome in that costume, and she showed a lot of moxie for wearing it. I mean, she’s 77 years old! I know a lot of 17 year olds who would not be able to wear that outfit without looking completely ridiculous. Dolly can still pull it off. I say, let her wear it, and STFU… but that’s just me. I am with Dolly’s younger sister, Stella, on the haters out there. Shame on them!

I think this song was actually originally a 70s song, and it’s certainly a product of its time. But some people like it. I remember Vivian from the Fort Belvoir Officer’s Club karaoke was a fan. Vivian hated me… so there you go.

Then I found myself listening to the utterly puke worthy 80s song, “I’ve Never Been to Me” by Charlene. I’ve been making an 80s nostalgia playlist, and even though that song makes me kind of nauseous, I decided to download it, anyway. It was on a compilation album that had a bunch of other songs on it that were either much better, or were also guilty pleasure hits from that era. I may have to write an in depth post on Charlene’s song about how it’s better to be a married woman with a child than someone who’s been all over the world and made love to kings. I mean, I guess I get the point that being attached to someone and having a family can be wonderful. But so can travel and independence and experiencing new and interesting things. Not everyone wants to change diapers and stay in the same place where they went to high school.

Then, after I finished some of the mundane Wednesday chores I do, because I’m a housewife, I ventured to RfM (Recovery from Mormonism). There, I saw the contentious thread I referenced in my earlier post had been updated. It was already a long thread, so after two new responses, it was closed. The transgender poster who had called out “overly helpful diva”, had responded to another poster who had taken great pains to be sensitive and helpful. The other poster had written that she didn’t want to “psychoanalyze” the transgender person. And the transgender person responded:

I don’t need a psychoanalysis, I just need you and [others] to listen.

About eight months back anybody started a thread about a fundie school refusing to play another school and it turned into a cesspool of bunk science and cissexism, the belief that trans people are worth less than cis people. I got sick of hearing posters who dealt with Mormonism and its abusive hierarchy demeaning trans people in a similar way so I called them out for it.

That’s when I found out this board tolerates transphobia more than calling transphobia out. Read it for yourself if you have the stomach for it.

I don’t need to debate people who consider my loved ones “less equal.” And over something as childish as throwing a ball or running.

Again… this isn’t an issue I know anything about, and it’s not something for which I have particularly strong feelings. However, I do think I can muster some empathy for this person, because they have experienced discrimination and adversity. They are trying to share their perspective. I understand that it probably is very frustrating, because for so long, no one cared at all about those who are transgender. They were basically just labeled as freaks and perverts.

Now, in 2023, some people are starting to listen to them and realize that they have needs that need to be expressed and addressed. At the same time, I also think it’s unrealistic to expect people to change their opinions and perspectives on a dime. That kind of change is going to take time. I’ll probably never see it in my lifetime. It might happen after I’m dead, provided the Earth doesn’t self-destruct. The main thing is, I think people should try to have some empathy and an attitude of helpfulness and kindness. At least at first.

Once again, overly helpful diva chimed in, even though she wasn’t specifically called out or addressed in the above comment. Her response was this:

You feel lots of rage. That means you’re right.

Congratulations.

Once again, she contributed a dismissive, discounting, sniping, and just plain rude and unempathic comment. Why did overly helpful diva need to add that snarky barb? Hadn’t she already posted enough? I think she’s repeatedly made herself quite clear. But she obviously didn’t think she had posted enough, because she had to have the last word… and sadly, the thread closed with her parting shot. For once, I’d like to see someone else have the last word in their online interactions with her.

You see, it’s not that I don’t think overly helpful diva sometimes makes good points. She is good at arguing, and as it was pointed out in that thread, she is a “talented researcher”. But she seemingly lacks the ability to soften her approach and realize that sometimes, the other person has a point, too. She behaves like someone who can never be wrong. And while she has no problem calling me and other people out when she thinks we’re out of line, she is not one to accept the same treatment from other people. When she gets called out, she becomes condescending and patronizing. If that doesn’t work, she’s sarcastic and rude. She’s a hypocrite.

I’m not even trying to say the transgender person wasn’t also rude. But that person has a personal stake in this argument that is beyond just being a woman who has fought for fairness and equality in sports. Add in the fact that the transgender person also grew up in Mormonism, and you have someone with a lot of raw feelings. And, it just seems to me, that if you’re constantly going to be taking a superior attitude toward people, maybe you might have some compassion for what that person has been through and continues to endure. That, to me, would be more impressive than resorting to sarcasm and rudeness.

Or, if it’s not possible to be compassionate, perhaps just shutting up would be preferable. Simply let that person have their say without chiming in with unnecessary insults. I mean, someone who really is superior would do that, right? It was the advice overly helpful diva gave me when I addressed the MEAN person who insulted Arran when he died. She unhelpfully advised me not to respond to the “troll”, even though I did so in a basically even-handed way. Perhaps she should heed her own advice and restrain herself from “adding fuel to the fire”, as she put it, and offering advice nobody wants or needs.

I feel sorry for the moderators on RfM. They have a tough job. Between people who are hurting deeply due to religious abuse and family dysfunction, arrogant people who can’t follow their own advice, and people like me, who write about these incidents, it can’t be easy to run that board. But one thing I would tell the moderators, if they cared about my opinion, is that people who act like the “overly helpful diva” are not conducive to encouraging communication. She may not outwardly tell people to shut up, but her overbearing insistence that she’s always right is a barrier to conversation. I find her very off putting, and knowing that she might chime in on something I post makes me hesitate to post anything there anymore. Sometimes, it actually feels unsafe.

In fairness to “overly helpful diva”, there are other rude and abrasive people who post there, too. I just don’t seem to clash as much with them. I, for one, have developed a distaste for a certain male atheist who posts on RfM. I think Alexis knows of whom I write. He bothers me less than the overly helpful diva, though. I just skip over his posts. It’s too bad. There are a lot of interesting, intelligent, and very kind people who hang out on RfM. When it’s good, it’s really good. But when it’s bad, it can be downright terrible. I’ll always be grateful to RfM for introducing me to some good books and music, too. I’ve found a lot of the people there have great taste in things to listen to and read.

Oh well…

Anyway, I just wanted to get all of that off my chest. I’m not saying the “overly helpful diva” is 100 percent wrong in her opinions about this particular issue. I’m saying that her delivery sucks, and she turns people off by being an all knowing, condescending, sarcastic jerk. And the older I get, the less time I have for her, and her ilk. 😀

Maybe that’s a sign that I’ve “recovered”.

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communication, LDS, lessons learned, overly helpful people

Sometimes we teach best what we most need to learn…

Today’s main blog post isn’t going to be about my time in Armenia. That may be a relief to some of my regulars. I have one more blow by blow post for my travel blog, then my usual “ten things I learned” post. Then, Armenia is history… for the time being, anyway. 😉

I used to spend a lot of time on the Recovery from Mormonism messageboard. For years, I read it on a daily basis, even though it would often become contentious. There are a lot of angry, hurting people that hang out in that community, and sometimes they can be really argumentative toward each other. It’s not uncommon to see people insulting others there, name calling, arguing, and just plain being rude. On the other hand, sometimes people can be very supportive and kind. I have made several decent online friends from the RfM community… people I think are truly good people and I could be friends with offline. However, I’ve also run into people I don’t like, and wouldn’t want to meet in person.

I’ve written a couple of times in this blog about certain posters on that site who get on my nerves. They tend to be “all knowing” types, who feel quite comfortable in confronting people whenever they think they’ve somehow been “offensive”. For example, I distinctly remember, during Christmas of 2019, Bill and I were in France and some jackasses popped our tire when we were at a rest stop. We saw the people who damaged our tire. They were swarthy men, who appeared to be from a certain group of people well known in Europe for running scams. Now, I don’t know for absolute certain that those guys were Roma– but when Bill went to the police station to report the crime, he was told that they were most likely either Roma, or perhaps from northern Africa. It’s a fact that certain people from those groups perpetrate crimes in Europe. But neither I, nor the police, ever insinuated that EVERYONE from those areas does criminal things, nor did I indicate that I think they’re bad people overall.

So, when I was relating the story on RfM, a couple of people took me to task for “assuming” the perpetrators were Roma. They basically called me a racist. Naturally, that didn’t sit well with me, particularly since none of these people even know me personally. I will admit that, like most people, I probably do have some racist proclivities. However, even if that’s the case, no one wants to explicitly be called a racist when all they’re trying to do is share an experience. It’s offensive. It would be one thing if I’d made very bold blanket statements that indicated that I think all “swarthy” people are criminals. But I was simply describing the physical appearance of the people who had popped our tire, and relating what the police had told us. It seemed to me that taking me to task for that post was unnecessarily hostile and aggressive, and it made me think twice about whether or not I wanted to share anything there anymore.

When I pushed back against the chief offender, a person I’ll call “overly helpful diva”, got snotty with me. Because obviously, it’s fine for her to call me a racist, but it’s not fine for me to defend myself, or tell her she’s wrong to say that about someone she doesn’t even know. What the hell kind of reaction does she expect when she hurls offensive labels at people?

Then, several months later, Mary Kay LeTourneau died. Someone posted about it on RfM. I posted that I had empathy for Mary Kay’s loved ones. No, I don’t condone what she did. She committed rape against a child. It was right that she went to prison and had to register as a sex offender. However, her victim didn’t see himself as a victim. He later married Mary Kay. They had two children together. He was at her side on the day she died, even though they had divorced. And even though I think that case is strange, and I don’t understand it, I do understand that my personal feelings about that case matter a hell of a lot less than how the actual victim feels about it. He loved her, in spite of her crime against him. He’s also now well into adulthood, and is free to feel any way he wants to about what happened to him and the person who perpetrated the crime.

Well, that same person, along with another poster, took me to task for that, too. One of them went as far as to call me a “rape apologist”. That was extremely offensive to me. I certainly don’t condone rape, and labeling me in such a way simply because I acknowledged someone’s humanity is ridiculous. I think that most people are worth more than whatever bad things they’ve done. I also don’t like black and white thinking, hypocrisy, or people thinking they have the right to tell me what to think, how to feel, or what to say. So, that incident also went down in my long log of memories that told me that poster is someone with whom I’d rather not engage.

The last straw came last March, when my beloved dog, Arran, died. I posted about it on RfM, because I have some friends on there who knew about Arran. Some asshole decided to leave a really MEAN and uncalled for comment about Arran, which pissed me off. I confronted the mean poster, and the same all knowing overly helpful diva poster came along and tried to tell me what to do there, too.

I vented about the incident in my blog, then actively avoided RfM for months, because I could not bear to interact with that person again. I was very angry with her for inserting herself in an interaction that didn’t involve her, and offering me unwelcome and unsolicited advice when I was grieving a family member. She had basically told me to shut up, rather than allowing me to handle the situation in my own way. She wrote that responding to the mean troll was just “adding fuel to the fire”.

I almost wonder if she read my post here, because ever since then, she’s left me alone. I’m fine with that. I can’t stand people who are “overly helpful” toward me and think I need their special help. I really don’t need their help in communicating. Their insistence on advising me in such matters is insulting and offensive. I don’t post much on RfM anymore, anyway. I no longer have a need to post there… although I do sometimes read there when I’m bored.

A few days ago, someone on RfM posted a tribute to the overly helpful diva. And in the course of that post, a person who wasn’t a fan of hers, nor some of the other more active posters, chimed in on the thread. The non-fan of the overly helpful diva identifies as transgender, and apparently had an argument with the overly helpful advice giver, and a few others, about transgender athletes.

I didn’t see the original offending RfM post, nor was I actively involved in the post I’m referencing in this post. However, I did take note of how the overly helpful person responded when she was called out for being transphobic and bigoted. She was insulted and offended, just as I was when she implied that I was a racist, and when she’d agreed with the person who called me a “rape apologist”.

However, instead of having a rational conversation with the person who was calling her out and, I think, making some valid points about her responses, she became condescending, discounting, and argumentative. I noticed that she couldn’t simply practice her own counsel toward me and “stop adding fuel to the fire”. She had to address the person who called her out, and was, in the end, quite dismissive. It struck me as a very superior and arrogant response to someone who probably knows a hell of a lot more about the experience of being transgender than she does.

I didn’t add anything to the discussion myself. I didn’t want to add “fuel” to the fire, after all. 😉 Once again, I found overly helpful RfM diva’s responses insufferable and infuriating, and I had empathy for the person who had taken her on– even though the initial post had been complimentary toward the overly helpful diva. I noticed that she felt fine in repeatedly defending herself… but when I tried to do the same thing in a similar interaction with her, she got snotty, dismissive, and rude.

While I have no desire to wade into the topic on which they are arguing, I will say that I felt empathy for the poster who says they’re leaving RfM because of her, and people who act like her. I don’t know how I feel about the topic at hand. I don’t know enough about it, as it’s neither something that interests me, nor anything that affects me personally. But I do know how it feels to be dismissed, discounted, and name called on that messageboard by overly helpful diva and her ilk. And I did notice that when that happened to the overly helpful diva, she didn’t seem to like it any more than I had.

I think I’m at a point in which I’ve realized that most messageboards and groups on social media are often unworthy of the effort of joining. A lot of them eventually become toxic, as people clash and turn on each other. I did enjoy RfM a lot, back in the day. It was often helpful and entertaining, especially once I got to a point at which people quit calling me a liar about Bill’s situation… or assuming I was an evil stepmother (how could I be? I have only met my stepdaughters in person once, over twenty years ago!). But lately, it seems overtaken by this person and her overbearing, overwhelming personality, and her need to argue, belittle, and “prove wrong” anyone who has a different perspective than she has.

And when I read that stuff, and notice her reaction to it when people take her to task, I just want to tell her… “Sometimes we teach best what we most need to learn.” Then, I would follow up by advising her– if I were the kind to offer unsolicited advice— that instead of pointing out other people’s issues and faults and labeling them as “racists” or “rape apologists”, or telling them how to respond to other people, she might want to take a deep breath and check her own responses. She doesn’t know everything. Sometimes, her logic is flawed. And sometimes, she should simply shut the fuck up and listen. Maybe she might learn something new.

I literally cheered when the transgender told her she was “full of shit”. There’s some real truth in those words. But then, I think most of us are full of shit sometimes, myself included. The difference is, I’m willing to admit that. I don’t think the overly helpful diva ever has been willing to admit that sometimes, she’s totally full of shit.

I may not agree with everything the transgender poster wrote, but I did offer a hearty virtual high five when they declared to overly helpful diva, “I’m done compromising for people like you.” Bravo! I couldn’t have put it better myself. Life is short. Compromise for no one, unless they really deserve it. Most of the time, overly helpful divas don’t deserve the time of day, let alone an apology so that we can simply “go along to get along.” That’s how people end up with depression, anxiety, and in the worst cases, feeling uninterested in living anymore. So, by all means, feel free to tell the overly helpful diva to fuck off, and live your best life. 😀

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mental health, musings, psychology

What it’s like to be chronically depressed…

Something came up yesterday that I feel like addressing in today’s blog post. I’m going to write about it today, because I realize that sometimes people must read my posts and wonder if I’m in need of “help”. I hope this post comes across as basically respectful and clears up some confusion. I also want to offer some perspective to people who may not understand, but would like to try.

I’ve mentioned it many times before in my blog, but I’m going to mention it again. I have a long history with major depressive disorder. I do not take medication or see a therapist for it these days, but there was a period of about six years during which I did seek treatment. That was back in the late 1990s, when I really needed help. It was the first time I ever sought treatment for depression. I wasn’t even sure I was truly depressed, since I’d always had kind of a bent toward being cranky, pessimistic, and sad. I thought it was just another situation during which I had said or done the “wrong” thing and I was to blame, yet again, for things not going the right way.

My experiences with being treated for depression were largely positive, although I didn’t like my psychiatrist very much. I am grateful to him for prescribing medication that helped me change my life and convinced me that clinical depression is a *real* thing. But I had problems with him, because he used to fat shame me, and he treated me like a child, even after I’d earned two master’s degrees and gotten married.

The psychologist, on the other hand, was wonderful. He helped me immensely. Even today, he is a friend.

I stopped taking antidepressants in 2004. I had a number of reasons for taking that step. Sometimes, I miss taking medication for depression, but I don’t miss having to see doctors regularly. I don’t miss having painful discussions with people about things from the past, especially when they judged me, as the psychiatrist had. But I can’t deny that Wellbutrin SR made me feel a lot better physically and emotionally. I had to take a lot of it, though. Apparently, I have a very efficient liver. What can I say? I come from a long line of drunks. 😉

So what do I do to stave off depression now? I mostly write or make music. Sometimes I write things that sound serious or dramatic. Such was the case a couple of days ago, when someone read my post about those guys who temporarily invaded my home last week. I wrote about wanting to “just die”. A reader got concerned and confronted me about it on social media.

I’m going to admit that when I first read the lengthy comment on my link, my first reaction was annoyance. That is, in part, due to my curmudgeonly personality, which is a feature of my chronic depression. But then it occurred to me that the person really meant well, and that’s a good thing. I also wanted to address the comment immediately, because I didn’t want people to get alarmed or stir up drama. The last thing I needed after last week was a visit from the Polizei because someone got worried after reading my blog.

You might think this isn’t necessarily something I needed to worry about. However, several years ago, a former Facebook acquaintance of mine got a visit from the cops because someone hacked her page. The hacker wrote a post that indicated that she might harm herself. Her friends and relatives, naturally, got very upset. They tried to call her, but she wasn’t answering her phone, because she was sleeping. Someone called the police. The cops came over and made her send her kids to someone else’s house for the night. They even threatened to send her children to foster care.

That situation isn’t really the same as my situation. I had written a passive comment or two about “wanting to just die”. And the truth is, having chronic depression often causes me to think about my eventual death and realizing it will be probably be a relief. When you’re dead, you don’t have any problems, and you don’t cause any problems. You’re just a part of history. We all die. I do think about that reality and, sometimes, even kind of look forward to it. But simply making that statement doesn’t mean I’m in a crisis or contemplating suicide. It’s just a statement of truth for me.

Having chronic depression means that I don’t often enjoy life that much, and I tend to be pessimistic. I can and do have fun sometimes, and many people mistakenly think I’m “happy” because I have a good sense of humor. But some of the most depressed people I’ve ever known have been hilarious. A lot of them are artistic, too… incredibly gifted in music, art, drama, comedy, dance, or writing. You’d think it would be a joy to have that artistic bent, but in my experience, it can make people feel things very intensely, which can lead to extreme highs and lows or, in my case, much milder highs and lows.

I assume that most people see me in a negative light. I ruminate on the past and realize that I’ve been in a lot of situations with people that ended negatively. I never go into situations wanting them to end badly, nor do I want to cause problems for people. At the same time, I don’t want to be someone’s doormat, either. So I struggle to find the sweet spot of being friendly, but assertive.

Last week, I spent four days with two strange men in my home. They didn’t speak my language, and they were doing work that was loud, messy, and disruptive. They didn’t seem to care that their work was affecting me. In fact, I picked up distinctly contemptuous vibes from them. I felt helpless, and being around them brought me back to an awful time back in the late 90s, when I was seeking treatment for depression.

During those days, I lived with my parents. I didn’t want to live with them, and I was trying to work my way out of the situation I was in. But I had some setbacks. First of all, I got sick enough with cellulitis one day that I had to go to the emergency room. I had no insurance, so the bills wiped out the money I’d been saving. Secondly, my parents were putting tremendous pressure on me to move. I wasn’t welcome in their home. My father was an alcoholic control freak who would do things like come into my bedroom and use the toilet, which he then didn’t flush. I mentioned this to my psychologist, who was aghast. He said, “Just like a dog… marking his territory!”

Well… last week, I felt the same way I did when I came home from work one night in the late 1990s, and found concentrated urine in the toilet in the bathroom. There was absolutely no reason for my dad to use that bathroom. We had two others in the house, and one was in his picture framing shop. My bedroom was in an out of the way corner of the house. He would have had to go out of his way to use that bathroom, and with him, my mom, and me in the house, it’s not like there was ever a line to use the other bathrooms.

The way those guys treated me last week reminded me of my dad, peeing in the toilet and not flushing, leaving it for me to discover and deal with. It was blatantly disrespectful. You might realize that when your own father treats you with contempt, it makes you question the reasons for your existence. Here I was in 2023, sitting in my own home, a rental… and these two guys were acting in the same incredibly disrespectful way toward me, putting their tools on my freshly oiled teak furniture, sitting on my new cushions, and putting their sock clad feet up, while blaring music.

Now, I could have marched over to my landlord’s house and demanded that he do something. In retrospect, maybe that’s what I should have done. But I knew that would slow down the progress of simply getting them done with the job and out of my house, hopefully FOREVER. I also didn’t want to cause problems. I never do. So I reacted in a passive aggressive way, which isn’t the best way to be, I’ll admit. And I had yet another thought of how relieved I’ll be when I’m dead, and I don’t have to deal with this crap anymore.

Stating that, however, does NOT mean that I need an ambulance, or to talk with a suicide counselor, or anything else of that nature. Like I said… I write and make music for my mental health. Some people hate what I do. Some have even dared to offer me “constructive criticism” on my posts. I always encourage those people to just keep scrolling.

Generally speaking, I only post my links once on my Facebook page. The vast majority of people don’t click the link, so most people don’t read my comments about my inevitable death. But they might read the comments left on Facebook. At this writing, I have 383 friends. An inflammatory comment on Facebook can lead to some big time unnecessary drama and alarm. Fortunately, the reader who was concerned was kind enough to delete the comment when I explained that I prefer a PM or even better, a comment on the actual blog post, rather than a Facebook comment on a concerning post. Because people love a good drama, and some people want to be a hero when there’s no need for heroism.

Something else I want to mention… It’s certainly not wrong to express concern for someone who writes or says something that seems “disturbing”. But immediately assuming someone is in need of “help” because they mention something taboo can have a pretty terrible effect on free thought and expression. I don’t consider myself a great artist or writer, but part of what I do requires free expression. I would hate to censor myself because of fear that someone might misunderstand and summon help when none is required.

But even if I really was feeling suicidal… it is kind of my life, isn’t it? Which isn’t to say concern isn’t ever warranted… but I always feel like people tend to act in a disingenuous way sometimes when a person has simply had it with living and dares to express it out loud. They feel better for calling the cops, or whatever… saving the person’s life. But that means the person gets hauled off to a psych ward, where they pretty much lose every shred of dignity. And after the person is “okay” again, the helpers sort of drift off… maybe until the next crisis arises. Or maybe not.

Anyway, for those who might have been concerned, rest assured, I’m fine. I feel a lot better now that the work is done, and I’ve been able to unpack it somewhat. And no, I’m not thinking of doing anything drastic. There’s no cause for alarm.

And now, I must close this post, because I need to get dressed. Bill is taking me out to lunch.

For more reading on chronic depression, click here.

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complaints, condescending twatbags, funny stories, memories, rants

Repost: Here’s your mac n’ cheese, lady… now GTFO of my life!

Hey everyone. It’s a little after 8 AM, and I’ve got just the dashiest dash of writer’s block. Something profound may come to me soon, but I think I’m more in the mood to make music today. I was looking at my Facebook memories, and I came upon a post from 2017 by Bitchy Waiter. It was about entitled people who feel like they can order stuff that isn’t on the menu, then get pissed and write shitty reviews when the restaurant says they can’t make it for them.

In the comment section of that post, I shared with Alex an article I wrote for my original OH blog. It was titled “Cheese eating bitches”, but I’ve retitled it for this blog, so I can get the green SEO score and avoid cussing in the subject line. I know that some people are turned off by curse words right off the bat. 😉

I know not everyone likes the reposts, but sometimes they do pay off… Besides, I want to preserve some of them for posterity. So, here’s “Cheese eating bitches”, which originally appeared on my blog on July 23, 2016. The featured photo is of mac n’ cheese I ordered for myself at a different, more child friendly restaurant, years later. Hope you enjoy it…

This morning, I was reminded of a horrible incident that occurred 18 (now 25 years ago) years ago when I was waiting tables. I was out on the terrace at dinnertime. It was a hot, sunny, late afternoon. That meant the terrace was going to be hopping and I knew I would probably be running around like a chicken with my head cut off for many hours.

At the restaurant where I worked, there was no children’s menu.  The chefs would make accommodations for kids, but only if they were asked ahead of time.  That meant that even though they would make a grilled cheese sandwich (which wasn’t on the menu), we had to ask them before we put in the order.  If you didn’t ask, you ran the risk of being chewed out by the kitchen staff or not getting your order.  For those working on the terrace, asking about special requests took extra time because the kitchen was literally the equivalent of a block away.

I was out there on the terrace with two colleagues.  One colleague, who is probably now a physician somewhere, because I remember he was planning to go to medical school, was an overly helpful type of person.  He was eager to please diners, sometimes to his own and other servers’ detriment.  Now that I think about it, maybe he’s yet another reason why I dislike doctors so much.  But, I digress… 

A couple came up with their two small kids and asked if there was a children’s menu.  The hostess politely told them we didn’t have one.  They were about to walk away and find a more suitable restaurant.  But then, the overly helpful guy said, “We do have grilled cheese sandwiches.”  Now, when he said this, I inwardly groaned to myself because I knew that if they came back and sat down, they would be requesting special items for their kids.  Looking at them, I could tell they were strongly considering returning.

It’s not that I don’t like kids, by the way.  Kids should go out to restaurants, because that’s the best way they can learn how to behave in one when they’re older.  And I agree, it would have been a lot easier for us wait staff had the restaurant owners simply offered a children’s menu, so people could more easily feed their special snowflakes.

However, one of the owners was a somewhat famous cookbook author and TV chef, and he wanted his place to be upscale and adult oriented. The owners didn’t want to encourage people to bring their children to the restaurant, even though it was located in the heart of Williamsburg, Virginia, where scores of kids come through, needing to be fed. The restaurant owners’ rules made it difficult for wait staff to appeal to people with kids with simple palates, or picky adults who weren’t used to such high falutin’ dishes. Believe me, I sympathized with the picky folks. I was/am one myself.

It wasn’t just catering to kids that was fraught with difficulty at this place. Servers were frequently put in the position of not being helpful to guests. We were forced to charge people for Parmesan cheese, for instance. Many guests thought it was unreasonable to be charged for what seemed like a simple condiment. They didn’t realize that the cheese was actually off of a wheel from Parma, Italy, and not coming from a green can made by Kraft. They’d get pissed off at us, but we were just following the rules set by our employers. There was really nothing we could do, especially since we had to get the Parmesan cheese from the chef, rather than dry goods storage.

Anyway, sure enough, the family came back, and they were seated in my section. The lady immediately ordered a grilled cheese sandwich, not realizing that I was going to have to ask the chef’s permission. She also asked for macaroni and cheese, which I had to tell her that we didn’t have. She then requested plain pasta for her daughter. Now… I know many people think it’s a simple thing to get plain pasta, but this particular restaurant made its own pasta fresh. A lot of times, the pasta was pre-mixed with other ingredients ahead of time. Because of that, I could not guarantee there would be plain pasta available on any given evening. I told the mom I’d have to ask the chef if any plain pasta was available that night. She said not to bother and her other kid could just eat the grilled cheese too. So I went back and got permission to serve the grilled cheese sandwiches and all was well.

Things were going okay until the dude who had been so helpful passed us with a bowl of plain pasta.  The lady saw it and fixed a hateful gaze upon me.  On that particular night, there had been plain pasta available.  The mom went absolutely ballistic and screamed at me in the middle of the terrace.  I don’t remember all that she said as much as I remember her unreasonable rage and the sheer hatred in her tone of voice as she screeched, “My daughter can’t have plain pasta!”, as if I had deliberately screwed her out of what her daughter had set her heart upon for dinner.  

Since I was a mere server, there was nothing I could do but simply take the abuse and get stiffed on the tip.  I suppose that when I asked about the grilled cheese, I could have asked if any plain pasta was available, even though the lady had said to forget about it.  But when you are fighting the weeds all evening, little details like that can get lost in the shuffle.  And besides, she had said her daughter could eat grilled cheese.  From what I could tell, the kid did enjoy the sandwich just fine and hadn’t been complaining about it. 

After she screamed at me in front of everyone and left me tipless, she, her husband, and the two kids mercifully exited my life.  I was left there feeling shell-shocked, and I was furious at the other waiter who had inadvertently put me in that position.  To make matters worse, the next table in my section was a group of folks who were really looking for a Cracker Barrel.  They, too, stiffed me, although I don’t think it was because they were upset about the food or the service.   

At the next lineup, I made a point of bringing up how servers should not be advertising anything that isn’t listed on the menu. If we have to ask permission to sell something, no one should be offering it to the public beforehand, exactly because of the situation I found myself in on that night. And I also told my colleague that the next time that happened, he was going to be dealing with it. The chefs agreed.

I’m not proud of it, but I am a person who holds grudges.  I still have murderous thoughts about that woman, even though I realize her once small cheese eating kids are now adults.  Fortunately, it’s not often that I think about that particular incident anymore.   

Even when I was half crazy with depression and anxiety, it would never occur to me to explode on someone the way she did to me that day.  As someone who has struggled with “issues”, I can understand on an objective level that the woman was probably hot, tired, and “over it” that day.  I just happened to be the unlucky person caught in the crossfire of her wrath.  As someone with “issues”, I confess that I still fervently wished a flat tire (or worse) for her on her drive home.  

But yeah… eighteen (25) years later, I still think of that raving bitch and have evil thoughts.  Please pass the voodoo doll.

Macaroni and cheese eating bitch, this is for YOU!

Thank God I’m out of the restaurant business.

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communication, condescending twatbags, language, overly helpful people

“I’m callin’ you out like a sneaky snake…”

I remember back in the early aughts, while job hunting, I got hooked on Mad TV. There was a hilarious sketch featuring a paranoid middle management guy named Sean Gidcomb who was obsessed with the office supply closet. He would accuse his co-workers of being “sneaky snakes”, stealing the pencils, staplers, toilet paper, and computer paper. He was rigid about their work habits and absenteeism. And he held the prospect of being fired over their heads to keep them in line.

Don’t we all know controlling micromanagers like this character?
Sneaky snake!

The character of Sean Gidcomb is, of course, an exaggerated stereotype of a certain type of person we all know. If we didn’t know someone who acted like Sean in some way, this routine wouldn’t be funny because people couldn’t relate to it. However, I’m willing to bet that most Americans– and probably a lot of Europeans (especially Germans)– can relate to this type of busybody.

I don’t work with other people very much anymore, so it’s been a long time since I had to deal with someone like Sean in the workplace. However, I do often run into this type in my online endeavors. These are the hyper-anal types of people who appoint themselves the law and order keepers. I usually refer to them as “overly helpful people”, but they aren’t always coming from an apparent place of help. Sometimes, that behavior comes from a deep need to look superior to other people, or to subtly tear people down… in a “sneaky snake” kind of way. I think that kind of behavior is meant to make someone who feels insecure or “small” feel better about themselves by being subtly negative or corrective. They don’t want to be obvious about their negativity, because that would not be socially acceptable. So, instead of being outwardly rude or upfront, they’ll be sneakily passive aggressive and covertly controlling.

I happen to be very sensitive to this type of behavior. Much like people who snipe at others in underhanded ways because of childhood trauma, I am sensitive to that manipulative behavior due to my own baggage from childhood. I grew up around controlling, manipulative people who were always issuing corrections and criticisms. So, when someone acts that way toward me as an adult, I tend to notice immediately and issue a response.

Many times, my responses tend to be more obvious call outs, which put the other person on the spot. I don’t mind criticism or correction when it’s really warranted, but I truly don’t appreciate passive aggressive digs. And I almost always notice them, too. Then, when I respond, the other person tries to gaslight, saying that what I read or heard wasn’t really what I read or heard.

Here’s an example from 2014 or so… (just to keep this post somewhat safe from a shitshow).

There was a woman in my online life that I used to know from a messageboard I hung out on in the days before Facebook. I found her incredibly insufferable. It was like she went out of her way to be rude and condescending to me. Back in the days when we posted on the messageboard, this woman would seemingly make it a point to contradict or criticize. I tried to ignore her, but she just continued her behavior, either not realizing or not caring how obnoxious and overbearing she was. (for more on this, click here)

I tried to be assertive, but she got offended and sent me angry private messages, accusing me of “insulting” her. I wasn’t insulting– I was pointing out that I found her comments rude, belittling, and offensive. She insulted me first, which is why I responded in the direct way I did. But no, I never called her names, told her to “fuck off and die”, or anything like that. What I wrote was, “Whether or not you mean to come across that way, your comments to me are belittling and offensive.”

Finally, once the messageboard fell apart, we all moved to Facebook, and I unfriended her.

Unfriending the offender worked fine for a long time. But unfortunately, we had mutual friends, and I would still run into her on occasion. One day, I left a comment on a mutual friend’s post, and the overly helpful person decided to leave a little passive aggressive dig that I found very offensive.

Here’s an excerpt from my original post about this on the Blogspot version of OH:

I was fine with letting her be her and letting me be me… until a couple of nights ago, when a friend posted about marijuana.  She wanted to know if we thought it should be legalized.  I said it should; that way, I could smoke it next week while hanging around my family.

Ms. OH pipes up with a quip about how some laws were meant to be broken, insinuating that smoking pot is no big deal.  And maybe it’s not if you don’t have a job where drug testing is done.  I wrote that I don’t have a problem with recreational pot use, but Bill doesn’t like marijuana because he used to live with a couple of potheads in college.  He didn’t like that the pot seemed to make them less than ambitious.  He also doesn’t like smoke.

Ms. OH comes back with “He’s never lived with alcoholics? 😉 ;)” 

Looks like a simple comment, right? But because we used to hang out on a messageboard, I think she knew full well that alcoholism is a sore subject to me. Why would you add winkie smilies if you aren’t implying that you “know” Bill has had “experience” with drunks?  If it were an honest and serious question, there wouldn’t be any winking going on, right?

I continued:

I think if she’d left off the winkie smilies, I probably wouldn’t have gotten so aggravated.  Alcoholism is a very sore subject for me and I don’t think it’s funny.  Alcoholism has personally caused me a lot of pain.  People I love have also been hurt due to alcoholism.  I grew up with an alcoholic who abused me.  Moreover, some might even call me an alcoholic because I really do like my booze– though Bill says he doesn’t think I’m abusive or mean when I drink. 

But even if alcoholism weren’t a sore subject, I don’t like her and I don’t enjoy interacting with her.  This week has been stressful enough for me, dealing with people who are crazy makers.  I feel pretty certain I don’t want to interface with Ms. OH again.  So I decided to block her.

I told Bill that I thought I’d soon get an email from her.  Sure enough, I did.  She wrote that she didn’t understand and demanded to know what she’d said to offend me.  Seems to me that if someone blocks you on Facebook, it means they don’t want to talk to you.  But she can’t accept that and has to know why… and she seems to think I owe her an explanation, as if we were actual friends.

Years later, as I think about this, I realize that there are a lot of people out there who struggle with their own feelings of inadequacy, insecurity, and low self-esteem. They’re always looking for someone to pick on in some way. When they spot someone who seems like an easy target, they can’t seem to help themselves.

I know I have served as an “easy target” to a lot of people. Maybe it’s because I am the youngest of four by more than several years, and my family regularly discounted and belittled me when I was a child. So I still have that unsure side to me that comes out, attracting “overly helpful” people like blood to a shark. However, just as our dog, Noyzi, loves people naturally, but is automatically affected by prior abuses that make him skittish and scared, I am affected by that unfinished old business.

Naturally– I am not as unsure as I seem. Naturally, I am someone who is pretty assertive. But I was taught not to be that way by controlling, manipulative, critical people when I was not in a position to defend myself as well. It’s hard to lose that old way of surviving, even when it no longer works. So I still have people in my life who are comfortable being shitty to me.

Below is more from my 2014 post:

It is possible that [the sneaky snake overly helpful offender’s] comment about alcoholics was innocent, but I am guessing it wasn’t.  I’ve been around her enough to know that she’s one to be snarky.  She has a way of looking down on people.  I don’t think she was intending to be funny or even friendly.  Besides, I honestly think she’s an asshole; so this decision was years in the making.  To be clear, I didn’t block her because of one stupid comment; I blocked her because she has a very long history of irritating me and most interactions I have with her raise my blood pressure.  And when I have told her why she gets under my skin, she gets pissy. 

She just rubs me the wrong way and either can’t or won’t modify her behavior.  And I would be wrong to ask her to modify it.  She obviously has friends and loved ones who love her just the way she is.  I’m obviously the one with a problem, so I just decided to quietly walk away so I don’t have to read her shit anymore.

But she apparently doesn’t want us to part company… or she wants to engage me in some dialogue as to why I don’t like her.  I just want to say to her, “Don’t go away mad.  Just go away.”

Not everyone is going to like you.  Lots of people don’t like me for whatever reason.  Not even a mild mannered, even tempered guy like Bill is universally liked by everyone.  You’re not a bad person, Ms. OH.  You just get on my fucking nerves.  So please just leave me alone.  There are a lot of people out there who will happily be buddies with you.  I am not one of them. 

Years later, I unblocked Ms. OH because, at the time, I was a lot more conservative about people I blocked on social media. Nowadays, when I block someone, they tend to stay that way. In any case, when I popped up on her radar again, Ms. OH sent me a private message apologizing for whatever it was she did to upset me. I appreciated that and accepted her apology, and life has gone on without her particular brand of passive aggressive microaggressions. However, more of her ilk have popped up– giving me a chance to practice being assertive.

Yesterday, I was watching cop videos on YouTube, and there was a cop who incorrectly used the non-word “irregardless”. A lot of the cops I watch on YouTube annoy me anyway, because quite a few of them are high on power trips. I know they have difficult jobs that are very stressful. Some of them have other issues that exacerbate, like bad marriages or substance abuse issues (lots of drunk cop videos on YouTube, too). I probably shouldn’t watch those videos, since they seem to trigger my authority issues.

Those who know me, know that I tend to be a stickler when it comes to words. “Irregardless” is not a word that well educated people should use, because it’s a double negative. The word “regardless” means without regard. When you add the unnecessary prefix “ir” to it, you get “without without regard.”

I posted that the word “irregardless” is not a word. And it’s not. I even double checked before I made that claim. Some might say I was being critical when I posted my comment, and in fairness, I was. But the actual offenders weren’t going to read it. It would be different if I posted that to a friend. It was posted to no one in particular, as the person who said it is some cop on YouTube in Wisconsin.

Just as some people abuse reflexive pronouns, and overuse fifty cent words like “utilize”, when they could just as easily use “use”, in an attempt to sound smarter, others think they should say or write “irregardless” instead of “regardless”. It’s a pet peeve of mine, but easy enough to ignore when I complain about it, especially when I put the complaints on my own page.

You’d think my comment wouldn’t attract controversy. And yet it did. Someone asked me what my “criteria” was for a real word.

That struck me as a pot stirring dig, because I don’t think the person who asked it was being serious. Maybe it wasn’t meant to be a dig, but that’s how the question came across to me. I’ve known this person for years and I’m pretty sure she knows that “irregardless” isn’t a real word. She just wanted to call me out, like a sneaky snake… maybe knock me down a peg. Maybe that’s an appropriate thing to do sometimes, but I didn’t think that particular post warranted a challenge. So, instead of answering the question, I asked one myself.

“Why do you ask?”

The response was telling, as the person wrote that they were “just curious” and “had no agenda”. The “no agenda” part kind of confirmed my initial suspicions that the question about my “criteria” was a dig. I was reminded of when our toilet clogged in our last rental house and the landlady immediately said, “We’ve never had this problem before!”, when I had never accused her of anything. When people add extra unsolicited information when something goes awry, it’s usually because they do have an agenda of sorts… and are maybe trying to establish an alibi or cast blame.

Former tenant did the same thing when she volunteered that she and her husband were moving mid tour because they needed to be closer to their babysitter. We never asked them why they were moving, and simply telling us they needed to be closer to the sitter sounded disingenuous. If they’d just said they needed to be closer to work, that would have been a lot more believable. The bit about the sitter rendered their excuse to bullshit, kind of like a person telling me they have “no agenda” is likely bullshit, too.

I know some people might think that my reaction to this is ridiculous and over-the-top. And to those people, I’d basically say that people discounting my reactions is one reason why they are so extreme. Because I have a right to feel any way I do, and I have a right to express myself. You might think it’s crazy and an overreaction, but I have these reactions for a reason… just like people issue those little passive aggressive digs for a reason.

I’m sure the people who do this kind of shit don’t actually mean to be irritating. I know I irritate people. I generally don’t mean to do so. A lot has to do with old baggage I need to unload. I think most people who issue passive aggressive digs are looking for control, or a way to even the playing field somehow. And my over-the-top responses to them have a lot to do with my own authority issues… which come from having a lot of controlling and criticizing people in my life when I was growing up. I don’t respond to control freaks very well anymore. I tend to rebel, sometimes, by getting pissed and writing blog posts. Maybe that’s passive aggressive, too… but I don’t want to get in a fight. I just want to be heard.

People can always choose whether or not to read the blog, right?

Anyway… that’s today’s deep thought. Now, time to get dressed. We need to go to the hardware store and get a new sun umbrella. Our old one (of two years) broke yesterday. So, sayonara, until tomorrow (probably).

  

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