Michelle Kaplan

The Rude, Crude and Socially Unacceptable

I think somewhere we’ve lost having respect for other people. In fact, sometimes we can be downright selfish.
You’re at a romantic little restaurant, maybe for a special occasion even. However, instead of the quiet music playing softly in the background, there’s a crying baby. It’s 10 PM – crying baby!

For some reason, people think the little ones in the car seats are so adorable, it doesn’t matter; after all, they’re supposed to just sleep and look sweet. They do, except for when you’re at your cozy place at 10 PM. Worse than this is the three and four-year-olds who are running around or whining and making a general fuss. The parents scold the child for poor behavior, its 10 PM, how is a tired child supposed to act?

We don’t care.

Calling a friend? Great, that is if you can get past the nine-year-old call screener. Yes, people have their kids answer the phone.

Little Johnny: “Hello”
YOU: “Hi, is your mom there?”
Little Johnny: “Yes”
Elongated Pause
YOU: “Can you please get her and drag her to the phone?”
Little Johnny: “Huh?”
YOU: “Can you get your mom?”
Little Johnny: “OK,”

Except, Little Johnny has no attention span and wonders off and starts watching Sponge Bob. Go to a movie, any night of the week; try “Pirates of the Caribbean,” again 10PM. There are children there, again, crying babies, again. This can’t just be my luck. Does it matter if the movie is suitable for children, violent even? No, some parents can’t be bothered paying for a babysitter.

“Hey honey, let’s drag the kids to see Texas Chainsaw Massacre 53.”

Don’t get me wrong, I like kids, I even have kids. I don’t bring them to restaurants. They can’t handle it. My little girl, who’s six, is generally no problem. However, her three-year-old brother – problem. I don’t impose him on the general public. The general public, however, imposes on me.
Latte Losers: The people either in line at the coffee place or the drive thru, who seemingly have to have a conversation with the coffee server or ask about special blended beans, or worse yet, just can’t decide what to have…oh the choices. Like it’s their LAST cup of coffee. I feel like yelling, “Hey lady, who has no job to be at in this lifetime, fork over the four bucks and step aside.”

Pooper Scoopers: The people who let their dogs crap on your lawn. I live on a zero lot line, there’s not much room to do it, but somehow my postage stamp of a lawn is where it’s gonna happen. I think a fair solution to this should be the same one we use if the dog took a crap on the carpet. Haul the owner out and shove his nose in
it.

Cell Phone Exhibitionists: People who like to have conversations that should be happening in private, in public. Ewwwww. They make me blush, and I don’t blush easy.

Pump Pigs: People that hog the gas pump, not one, but park their cars is such a was as to block two spots. Or don’t pull up all the way, and make you wait until they’re done.

Parking Spot Squatters: They’re leaving the mall. They’re even in the car. They don’t move. What the heck are they doing? You have your blinker on signaling. They know you’re waiting for the spot…but they’re not budging.

Handicapped Posers: The sticker is displayed, they have the special plate. They park in that most coveted spot allotted to those who truly need it. But you see an able bodied person leap from the vehicle and sprint to the store, looking like freakin’ Terrel Owens. And so, here you are, going out to dinner. You get to the restaurant and you hunt down a spot. There’s one…look someone’s got their lights on and they’re leaving. You wait and wait. You’ve been had by the parking spot squatter. You go in the restaurant. You try to relax but there are kids running and screaming babies. Meanwhile you and your friends are being totally entertained with last nights antics as the person at the next table is a cell phone exhibitionist. Finally the waitress, wait a minute, waiter, mmmm…no, waitress is standing nearby. You and your friends try to guess. You certainly don’t know what to call him/her to get their attention. You joke that it’s like a Saturday Night Live episode featuring androgynous Pat. Or as your friend announces, “Yup, he’s aaaah…she’s…in college and their major is – UNDECLARED.”

You finally arrive home, you’re tired, as you drive by you see your neighbor out walking the dog. You wave. You park your car and proceed to walk to the door when all of a sudden you step in dog poop. Just another day of dealing with, the Rude, Crude and Socially Unacceptable.