I don't think I am growing more prickly (some might argue that would be impossible) but I increasingly chafe at being told what to do by people who have no business doing so. There are enough people who are in a position to tell you what to do, and who often insist on your doing stupid things, but I am not talking about them. Them I avoid as much as possible and grudgingly comply when there is no alternative.
No, it is the more mundane things that set me off.
Like the envelope from someone who is trying to sell me something that states prominently "Do Not Discard." Naturally, those envelopes go directly into the waste basket; I'm thinking of leaving an all-weather waste can by the mailbox.
The marketers don't like to be ignored, though, and they get more insistent. I am holding an envelope that, in addition to my name and address, includes these phrases: "Official Documents Enclosed." "Official Notification." "Requires Immediate Response." "SECOND NOTICE." "Time Sensitive Communication." Well, duh. Guess where that envelope is going?
Maybe tossing their missives isn't the answer. I am considering saving a stack of the envelopes -- unopened -- until I have a large stack and then mailing all of them back to the sender. With luck, I'll open one of the envelopes and find a postage-paid reply envelope and use it to send the accumulation back.
Almost as annoying is the recorded message that urges you to hold for an important message. I used to hang up immediately, but now I just lay the phone down and go about my business. I like to think I'm using enough of their time to save someone else from getting a call.
At least in the above situations, I have the choice of whether to open the envelope or hold for the call.
One night recently, I had a choice of whether to respond to a stupid instruction, but exercising my choice saved me no time. I was trapped.
It was an event that included a talent segment. The mistress and master of ceremonies took turns introducing each contestant and then going offstage.
The contestant performed. The audience applauded. And the master/mistress of ceremonies returned to the stage with the instruction to give the performer another round of applause, even as the original applause was fading. Not once, not twice, but every single time.
Excuse me, but isn't applause like a tip: something that is earned.
I sat on my hands thinking that if it weren't for all the phony enthusiasm, the contestants could have more time to show off their talent. And the applause would have been truly earned.
