How To Be a Jerk

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The hot and humid summer heat we've gotten here in NYC has kept me indoors for the most part.  Now that the weather is cooling up a bit (a frigid 85º), I've been out 'n about, enjoying what's left of my vacation.

I hate being indoors, but I can see how being a literal hermit has its advantages - you aren't exposed to the jerks of our world.  And believe me, they're everywhere. Here are some ways on how you can be one of them (just in case you're interested...)

Swiping a parking spot from someone else:  You see the car ahead of you has their signals on, but you can clearly take the spot - and you do.  You either spend way too much time arguing about it with the other driver or you walk off feeling like the king of the world.  Well, you are the king - of jerks!  Keep this in mind the next time you try to steal a parking spot: that other driver not only knows where you parked, but quite possibly the make/model of your car and your license plate number.   Nothing is worse that car-ma, my friend.  Plus, people can be crazy.  I mean.  Really crazy.

Being late - especially at the movies:  Lateness is as absolute pet peeve of mine.  Nothing turns me into the Incredible Hulk faster.  But latecomers at the movies (or any scheduled event, for that matter) are really inexcusable.  First of all, you knew what time the movie started and you were late anyway.  Now, you're:  1) blocking my view because you need to find a seat in a pitch-dark theater 2)  chewing your annoyingly crunchy popcorn and 3)  opening your loud candy packaging.  Plus, you're talking about how funny it is that you're tripping over people who cared enough to be on time.  Oh and did you know that there's a butt and/or crotch parade in my face?  Ta-da!  You're an official jerk.

Jaywalking:  I'll admit, I was a jaywalker before I became an avid driver.  Now that I drive more often than not, I see how jaywalking is the worst decision a pedestrian can make.  Why?   Hmmmm...how's about...DEATH?!?  Why would you jaywalk when the crosswalk is a mere 2 feet in front of you?  Most jaywalkers don't even look - they just walk/run/walk-run across the busiest streets known to man as though they're made of steel and can't be hurt by a moving vehicle.  Newsflash:  You may not be made of steel...but you certainly are a jerk!

Not obeying traffic laws/street signs:  In the similar tune of jaywalking - what is it with some drivers...and bicyclists?? I can't tell you how many times I've seen someone in a car or bike arrogantly sail through a red light like it's nobody's business.  Guess what - unless your mode of transportation has some sort of invisible forcefield, you're putting yourself (and others) in danger.  Ditto for not using your signal and wearing all black at night while on a bike.  Take a sec and turn around - this shaking middle finger is all yours, you jerk!

Talking over someone in a conversation/Changing the subject:  Someone is talking about drama at work and is obviously very upset.  They need to vent to you and/or a group of friends.  Somewhere in between "That crazy b*tch!" and "Eff that!"  you decide to loudly chime in - about the latest political scandal - or worse - your wonderful colleagues and how lucky you are to have the best boss ever.  Do yourself a favor:  Look in the mirror and tell that story - because you should spend time with like-minded jerks like yourself.

Not leaving your waiter a tip:  Yes, the waiter smirked a little when he/she took your order.  Yes, you didn't know tonight's specials.  Yes, you waited almost 30 minutes for your food.  All justifiable reasons to be miffed.  But does that mean you shouldn't leave a tip at the end of a meal that you fully consumed?  Pause for a second: Imagine what a waiter goes through on daily basis - working for less than desirable wage, while maintaining a perfect smile throughout your complicated burger order.  Oh, and having an amazing memory to boot after barely making it through a 12-hour shift.   Remember that for the most part, waiters do not control the kitchen staff and vice versa.  I wholeheartedly agree that there are some reasons when you shouldn't  -  maybe your waiter told a racist joke that went too far or yelled at your kid (perhaps while being racist).  Unless your reasons are super extreme, I think not leaving a tip is a jerk move. (P.S. - I wouldn't show up to this restaurant again if I were you...just sayin'...)

Cutting in line/Pushing:  Whether at a crowded store, the long line to merge off/onto a highway exit, or getting a seat on the subway, cutting in line and/or pushing is simply saying, "My needs are more important than yours."  Oh yeah, and, "I'm a complete and utter jerk."

I'm sure tons more can be added here...

Now, I'm definitely not perfect, but I do think a little consideration goes a long, long way.  You may want to try it next time you're contemplating entering the realm of jerkdom.

xoxo andrea

Coffee Shop Follies

Surprisingly, there’s a ton of people in the coffee shop today. The weather is so beautiful that I was expecting to grab a seat immediately, but there’s a study group over on the right (isn’t it summer?), a woman and her friend having a very in-depth conversation on the left (by “in-depth” I mean “arguing”), and a couple of my people (those with laptops) scattered throughout the café. Iced green tea in hand, I try to look nonchalant as I keep my eye out for anyone that makes the slightest indication that he/she/they/it is leaving.

Books closing, computers folding shut, the sound of a bag’s zipper ring melodically in my ears as I make my way towards the center of the floor. “Yes!” I say to myself. Sure, my computer bag hits a few heads along my journey. Yeah, my purse, being lifted in the air out of concern for other innocent bystanders, (by"sitters?") wobbles uncontrollably.  So what if the lid of my cold beverage  is about to pop off because of my eager (and pressure-filled) grasp?  I’m getting a seat! Suckers.

The sound of my bags hitting the side of my body (and the people around me) serve as the soundtrack of my travels. I can already see myself typing furiously on my laptop, sipping my drink, getting things done as I should. Tomorrow I can relax…Saturday, I’ll get a little more done…Sunday I’ll relax a bit more…Monday, I’ll come here again…maybe I’ll even sit in the same seat! I quietly chuckle to myself. The sun’s shining…the sky is blue. It’s going to be a great day, indeed.

Wait.

“Can you watch my stuff? I’ll be right back.” What?  You mean...the orange table with its magnificent shine…the comfortable, cushioned seat...the perfectly placed electrical outlet...why aren't you leaving?!?  This table and I...we were obviously made for each other.  Alas, my words fall on deaf ears. “Sure," I say begrudgingly.  

She returns and smiles, “Thanks!” For nothing! I say to myself. I heave my bags back on my shoulders like a camel, with a very fake and tight-lipped smile.

I return to my post. Others are scoping out the joint. My heart is beating out of my chest.  Why I am so nervous?  Oh - through squinted eyes, I look at a couple in the far right. They are standing next to TWO tables. The nerve! 

My refreshing beverage now becomes a sudden annoyance. I need to throw it out, but I’m afraid that one false move will cause me to lose this game in this pathetic table race.

I see movement. Off in the distance, I see Enemy #1 making his way over to my intended target. He has no bags, no drink, no jacket….he's not even here to work! I stuff the plastic cup into my purse, and as it makes a crackling sound, I start to sprint. Well, as much as you can sprint with a backpack, a shoulder bag, a laptop and an open beverage. The melted ice snakes through my purse. I ignore it, of course.

I’m (half) flying through the aisle and do a side-move with the precision of a trained athlete. Everything is flying in different directions. Bags 1-3, arms, legs, hair... People are looking at me in sheer awe….or disbelief…I don’t know the difference. They’ve probably never seen moves like this before, I think. I shout a million “Excuse me’s.” Why, I don’t know. In fact, I don’t understand why saying “excuse me” makes anything better…whether it be an obnoxious burp or flatulence. In any case, Enemy #1 gives his accomplice a signal. I turn around in slow motion…as I look back….

It’s too late. Enemy #1 has already staked his claim at the table that could’ve been mine. All mine. Enemy #2 gives a thumbs-up. Lame.  Who even does that anymore, I think….angrily.

A woman in an official-looking trench coat whizzes by me, knocking my bag to the floor. No apology. I want to give her the finger, but I think that’s only cool when you’re driving.

“If you’re not going to stay, then you should leave the café,” a woman in a green smock and duck-billed visor tells me. I have no words. Of course I want to stay!  But there are no tables, lady!  The odds were certainly against me.

I’m raising the white flag. It’s only been twenty minutes, but my feet are aching, my bags slipping off of my shoulders, and there’s a broken, plastic and leaky cup in one of them. I begin to leave when the most magical voice I’ve ever heard rises up and over the rapid chatter of those around me:

“Hey…do you want to sit here?”

Calm as ever, I reply, “Sure.” My bags drop to the floor in relief.

As I look around eagerly, I wonder if anyone else notices my accomplishment. Smiling from ear to ear, I give myself a mental high-five.