Do you ever feel like you're speaking a different language? Like somehow during your conversation with someone, you suddenly started speaking German but didn't know it.
Or maybe a demon took possession of your body for a brief moment forcing you to speak in tongues without your knowledge.
I swear that's what happens to me. It's either that or people are just complete morons. And since you know how tolerant I am of other people, you can see how reluctant I am to accept that.
For example, when someone calls asking my advice about a friend who, let's say, ate a box of nails the night before (scenarios have been edited to protect the privacy of the moronic) (allegedly moronic).
For some unknown reason, the nail eater has been having severe stomach pains and has been coughing up blood ever since.
My advice, of course, is to call 911.
'Well, he went to the hospital a couple days ago and they just sent him home.'
So, he ate nails 2 days ago, too? Seriously? Call 911.
'No. He had a sprained ankle.'
Wow. Call 911.
'But they will just send him home. And I'm really worried about him. I think he needs someone to talk to. Maybe some counseling. He just hasn't been himself the past couple days.'
(could be the ingestion of nails, dumbass. ) I'm pretty sure the counseling can wait. CALL 911!
'I don't know. I mean he's not bleeding as much right now. He probably just needs to rest and then he'll be fine. I just want someone to talk to him. Do you think he might be depressed? Or maybe he has swine flu? Maybe that's why he's not eating.'
O. M. F. G. CALL 911!!! NOW!!!!!
'I don't know. I really thought you'd be able to come over. You know stuff about counseling. And you've had your swine flu shot, right? What do you think I should do?'
PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS SHARP AND HIGHLY DESTRUCTIVE TO VITAL ORGANS, CALL 911!*
*I'd like to say 911 was called, but I can't. You see, I had a minor detainment. Apparently, if you wrap the phone cord around someone's neck in a gesture of frustration, not of murderous intent, it's still considered a crime. Due to my brief incarceration, I was unable to find out whether nail eater survived. Or if he has the swine flu.
{sigh}
It happens with solicitors too. They show up at my door wanting to sell me siding or repave my driveway or make me shave my head and worship some guy named Ben who's waiting in the van on the curb.
I try to be polite:
No, I don't need siding (as they glance questioningly at the pieces flapping in the breeze).
Thanks, but I think the driveway is fine (as they limp after having tripped on the giant holes in the concrete).
I'm feeling okay with my current religion (as Ben entices me with cupcakes from the open van door and tells me how pretty I am) (and I reconsider when I notice there are more cupcakes inside) (like a lot more) (Ben really seems nice).
Then my patience starts to fade as I can see that my clearly spoken "No thanks, I'm not interested" is somehow not being understood.
I don't know German. And I'm not spinning my head around spewing pea soup. Huh.
Somehow, my polite refusal is falling on deaf (or maybe just dumb) ears.
They seem to think I am saying "Yes, please, won't you come in and discuss this further."
I mean, it's 5:30 in the afternoon and I'm wearing my pajamas, fuzzy slippers and no bra. Clearly entertaining is what I had in mind. 'Do come in. Snacks, anyone?'
{sigh}
Such has been my life this week.
No amount of enunciating or yelling has broken through to the morons. Their stupidity is impenetrable.
Anyone else ever have this problem?
Do tell.
I so love it when you share. :)
No comments:
Post a Comment