Saturday I went to the mall. I’m not going to give you some spiel about how I hate the mall because it’s a vast wasteland of desolate, soulless consumerism. For me, it’s just a place to buy stuff. I picked up an especially fetching blanket the same shade of “merlot” as my bedroom walls at J.C. Penney using a combination of coupons that probably violated store policy. ($89 King-sized snuggling blanket, minus various discounts, minus $10 off coupon, minus 15% off something over $75 = $34 blanket. Woot.)

All that flouting of store policy had made me hungry so I moved toward the food court, which was packed to the gills. I have a weakness for the horrific “cheesesteak” sandwiches purveyed by a certain “Charley”. I was born a short bridge trip from Philly, so eating one of those is very much like a preacher’s kid smoking crack while engaging in various sexual acts with a football team and perhaps a goat. Nom.

In a large, circular food court in a medium southern mall around mid-December, queue lines become a bit hazy. For the most part, people crowd around in the general direction of the place they’d like to eat then make various non-aggressive hand gestures while muttering things like, “I think you were here first.” In a city like Jacksonville, this isn’t so much being polite as it is trying not to get shot. (People can and do get shot for rudeness in Jacksonville.)

I began the March of the Penguins-like shuffling toward one of the three cash registers at the counter. A woman about my mom’s age stood with what looked to be her sister and son just next to me. They had walked up at the same time as I had. When the young man in half a Santa suit at the register gave me that universal expression of, “Are you next or what, lady?” I looked over at the small group beside me and asked the woman, “Are you in line?” It was obvious that they were still deciding what to order, so I thought I would pass my unease about the cashier’s expectancy along to my linemates.

Lady : “YEAH we’re in LINE! – hmph!”

::stunned silence::

Me: “Uh, I’m sorr…I…thought…still deciding…here at the same…sorry.”

Lady: “Yeah, whatever.”

Then they stood there for another interminable two or three minutes deciding.  Standing under the giant “Charley’s Cheesesteaks” sign, I squashed my urge to scream like a loon, “MAY I SUGGEST THE FUCKING CHEESESTEAK?!?” You see, I was raised better than that.

I’m beginning to think I never had social anxiety at all, I was just raised to be genteel and I live in a non-genteel world. Now that I’m out in the workforce and socializing with various business folk on a daily basis, I’m finding that I’m not scared of people after all - I just disapprove.

I believe that at some point around 1952, (scientific studies fabricated entirely in my head bear this out) people began shaking their heads and saying, “What has the world come to?” and “People are just jerks.” This brought about a general climate of acceptance for the etiquettely impaired. We now expect people to be nasty to us, so they comply.

Historically, there have always been grumpy people. In fact, every one of us has a propensity for rude, crude or socially unacceptable behavior. On my absolutely fictional Nastypants Scale everyone rates from 1% nasty (Mother Teresa feeding the hungry) up to 99% nasty (Ann Coulter revictimizing 9/11 widows for fun and profit). By nature, we "normal" people rate between a 12% and 32% on the Nastypants Scale.

    

                 1%            (you are here)                                             99%

 

 

Around 1983 (again, serious research made up in my brain is my source) people began saying, “I’m just being honest” and “I’m looking out for #1.” Of course, they are acting like #2, but that’s okay because they are “assertive.” Suddenly, that 32% on the Nastypants scale that was previously under control became acceptable to unleash. It's like global warming for assholes.

The dirty secret is that 89% (::cough::) of the world isn’t like that. We’re just getting out of the way of the people that are.

There’s no message here – no call to action or request for behavior changes. This is just me, part of the silent majority who uses words like “please” and isn't completely sure their car horn works, reaching out to the rest of my mannerly brethren with a neighborly nod of recognition and a wink of smug satisfaction.

I may have gotten my sandwich three minutes later than that lady in line did, but she has to live inside her polluted head.

Merry Christmas, Cheesesteak Lady, wherever you are.




 




Be excellent to each other.
Party on.

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Images:
Charley Cheesesteak: indusbusinessjournal.com
Mother Teresa: stjosephslilies.wordpress.com
Ann Coulter - blogspot.com