Why Can’t you Just Listen?!

It was so frustrating, growing up with the constant “Why can’t you just listen?”  or “Just do what you’re told!”  I used to cringe when I heard teachers or parents address their kids this way.

Now I’m that parent.  I have three kids, and these words should have special meaning to me.  The other night, I was so fed up with the kids not doing what they were told and doing so much general kid stuff instead of just sitting and eating dinner or, later, getting their room picked up before bed.  I found myself yelling at them constantly, louder and angrier each time. Now I’m cringing at myself.  I am putting myself in the shoes of my wife in the other room and imagining what it must have sounded like to her.  I let my temper get the best of me.  Me.  The guy who should be the first to not flip his lid or lose patience, because I’ve been that kid on the receiving end.  Disgusting.

Road Rage 4: The Stalker

so by now you’ve realized that I have a lot of fantasies about arguments and vandalism against crappy drivers.

What about real life events, though?  I’ve never really egged the car of a bad driver (I promise…?) but surely there are things that do actually happen?

 

abso-freakin-lutely.

As my wife was unfortunate enough to witness one fine day, I have this thing I do when I’m turning left, and a vehicle is stopped ahead of the stop line inside my turn.  like the picture below:

don’t be jealous of my mad art skillz…

As you might imagine from the angle of my car and the path I’ve drawn for it, I get pretty close.  Not that this asshat gave me much room to begin with, right?  My poor wife.

Anyhow, the drawing above is my rendition of the exact scenario.  We were going to Culver’s which is actually just about a foot off the page.  After a few minutes in the Drive Thru, this young woman pulls up next to me and honks a couple times to get my attention, then her idiot boyfriend/husband/pet moron starts hollering at me from the passenger seat.

“Hey man, are you okay?”  He asks.

I reply, “Yeah, man, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes…”

“Yeah? because you just almost hit us back at that intersection!”

My dream has come true…

The Occasional Asshole

 

I have come to the realization that, like it or not, sometimes I am the asshole. If there’s one thing that I’ve learned (over and over again, the hard way) it’s that sometimes I don’t always say things the way I mean them and sometimes there’s no way to get that conversation back.  I’ve lost friends this way.  In some instances, trying to clarify, provide additional details, or even say it a completely different way, only serves to make things worse.  A flat tire turns into a train wreck.

Sometimes I think I am speaking clearly, and making total sense, and get completely bushwacked by someone being offended because they misunderstood me. Then, to realize that I have no means of effectively communicating what’s on my mind in that given moment.  Imagine having all the abilities of speech and manners and suddenly coming to the realization that none of it is real, and you might as well be mute.  It’s not that you’re speaking a different language, where you just need someone who understands to translate; you are completely mute, and no one can help you.

Needless to say, this situation will completely ruin the day.  My anxiety is amped for hours, then there is the subsequent stuttering and stammering over ordinarily simple things because I can’t get my mind right for all the guilt and regret over pissing someone off.  The knowledge that (no matter how good I try to be) that person may now and forever see me as an asshole looms for days.

 

It is hugely important to realize that mistakes will be made, and this does not make me a bad person.  I will, of course, feel bad for days, weeks, months later.  The truth is that in the end, that one instance here or there will usually not matter in the long run.  Life goes on, and if the person was a close enough friend to know I have these issues, they will forgive and they will realize I am beating myself up over it.  If not, well, I have to wash my hands of guilt, having made my apologies, and learn from the mistake.