I frequently complain about insignificant matters (“this butter is too hard”) or not strongly enough about significant matters (“we shouldn’t complain, but the guy taking our cash is also handling our food and not wearing gloves”). Often, I confess, I am unkind to others, especially when I feel belittled (“if you think I’m wrong, then you’re a nut case”). I admit to having insecurity problems when it comes to almost everything. To the point, I have the weakness of being offended everyday by almost anything that strikes me as unpleasant or irritating.
Being offended by everything (the whole spectrum of vexations from a mosquito buzzing near my ear to a neocon shouting hateful profanities into my other ear) is a decision, undoubtedly a bad one. I know. I get it. Weakness of character and all that. Guilty! Indulge me, though, as I list a few recent circumstances that I found offensive.
Second in line at the Walgreen’s checkout counter, I had been waiting three or four minutes to pay for an Easter basket for my granddaughter. Just as I approached to the cash register, a woman charged through the front door and demanded that someone assist her in filling a propane tank outside. The checker immediately left me standing there and dashed outside apparently to fill a propane tank. What happened to first come first served? Everyone in this scene was offensive, including me for standing there like an invisible milquetoast with my mouth open and not making an assertive complaint.
I know that I am exceedingly sensitive to noise. I probably have a condition, Misophonia, that decreases my tolerance to certain trigger sounds. For sure loud and rackety people offend me. So, every workday morning at six o’clock, someone drives by our house blasting at least 115 decibels of engine noise. If I am asleep when that muscle car booms past, I immediately wake. If I am already awake when it goes by, I focus my attention on being offended by the scofflaw who cares so little for the feelings of hundreds of people whom he or she stirs from slumber each morning as he or she drives to work. Many annoying sounds drive me over the brink: leaf blowers, finger tapping, television commercial jingles, full thump automobile bass subwoofers, a low battery chirping smoke alarm, and, of course, those backup warning beep-beep-beeps that trucks and construction vehicles use to notify us they are nearby.
By the way, have you noticed how many people chew with their mouths open? I don’t know why, but that’s highly offensive. Not sure, but I think these are the same people who sneeze without covering up and who make that dramatically loud ear-piercing, “AAH-Choo.” Someone, please loan these ill-mannered people Emily Post’s book on etiquette.
And what about that person in the grocery store who stands in firmly front of the cheese section? Blocking the rest of us from snatching a wedge of gorgonzola, the obstructionist is usually jumbo, and additionally his or her cart is parked smack dab in front of the cheese case, blocking all other shoppers.
Don’t get me started on those exhibitionists who drive big pickup trucks with Old Glory (sometimes two or three of them) the size of a king size mattress, flapping and whapping above the pickup bed. It is offensive to display that sort of outsized patriotism (the suggestion here is that the showoff person is an ideal citizen and cheerleader for the rest of us) while driving a gas hog vehicle that is killing the air we breathe. These Yee-Haws often have a “God, Guns, and Glory” bumper sticker and a coil-over strut suspension system that lends the truck that “high and mighty” presence. The pickup I saw recently also had an offensive decal that read, “White Trucks Matter.”
Now I don’t know about you, but when I pay for my groceries at Safeway, I don’t want to feel like an Ebenezer Scrooge just because I hesitate when to the checker wants, first thing, to know if I would like to contribute to the Korean War veterans’ emergency fund, or whatever. I am not attending a charity fair. I’m at the store to buy milk and cheese (if I ever negotiated a way by the human blockade at the cheese section) and maybe a loaf of bread. It seems assaultive and exploitive to ask for a donation while the unsuspecting shopper reaches for a wallet. Of course, the checker is doing what the store manager orders. And the moment is propitious for a contribution because wallets are out, and the cause is just. But really, it’s an offensive situation if you ask me. To give freely and from the heart is a blessing; to be squeezed is just short of a curse.
How about that neighbor who has a sensitive car alarm, as well as a penetrating house alarm, both of which sound off at least twice a week? Because the neighbor is a decent sort, he or she pushes the right buttons or makes the appropriate phone call inside a half an hour to stop the ear-piercing tumult just as the rest of us are fleeing the neighborhood. By now, everyone within a mile of the warning sirens knows that no emergency is in play, just another exasperating false alarm.
How is it possible that I am offended by The Fourth of July? Well, I am. In our small town, the holiday is celebrated with fireworks and a parade. Good, you say? Not good, I claim. Our town is overrun by out-of-towners flowing in like a burst sewer pipeline. Litter everywhere. Sky bombs terrifying all the dogs and cats. Drunks staggering and puking. Cars blocking driveways and streets. Overworked cops trying to catch all those people lighting illegal fireworks. Small fires in vacant lots caused by careless use of sparklers. It’s mess. What a horrible way to celebrate the birth of our nation. That’s what I am thinking as I stand by our drought plagued lawn with a hose just in case.
I could cite another dozen triggers that offend me, but in writing this I am offending myself.
Come to think of it, people who are so easily offended are offensive.
Maybe I’ll try kindness. Redemption. Forgiveness.
You got a problem with that?