Another Friday, another diatribe

Let's face it, I have become cynical, mean, ornery, and generally intolerant in my middle age. Woe to the world when I get really old and lose the defeat button in my brain that is currently keeping my more vitriolic comments in check.

I realize that I can no more make people behave in a civil and appropriate manner than I can make pigs fly. Nevertheless, I still hope--yearn for the utopian moment when I can get through the day without encountering any egregious acts of willful inconsideration.

Not gonna happen.

We (lest I be accused of hypocrisy, include myself with the guilty) have become a society of rule breakers and "me first" proponents, never stopping to think that all of us can't be served "first" or that breaking this rule "just this once" translates to no semblance of order if everyone breaks it.

It is increasingly evident to me that we have raised a new generation for which law and order have no meaning. Please don't accuse me of being some wacky fascist--another accusation de riguer today. Check out this quiz--I'm all about personal accountability and limited rules. But, when most people think they are above having to wait in line, or behave in a considerate fashion, then yes, I do tend to have some psychotic leanings.

Just this morning, I had a woman walk into my office (regardless of the sign on the door) and ask me if I was a financial aid officer. My reply, no, was unsatisfactory to this woman, who then proceeded to make up information about the location and occupation of my office. I am the only occupant of my office. The President didn't like it--she works out of a bigger, better office on another campus. This moonbat wanted me to stop what I was doing (we don't have to share with anyone that it was a game of solitaire) to jump her to the head of the line because she knew that I could do it.

What? Rewind. She didn't want to wait her turn, so she figured that by catching me off-guard, that I would be tricked into getting her to the front of the line. I still can't believe it.

Once I kicked her out with a poor customer service scowl, I went back to work designing some last minute adjustments to my syllabi. I had to quit and go to lunch. You see, I have a glass door and a little tyke, no more than 18 months (and technically not allowed on campus) had his mother's keys and was scratching at my door! Yes!!!

Psychotic.

Let me just say that keys against a glass and aluminum door makes a lot of noise. Stop for a moment, and forget that my concentration was adversely affected. Momma didn't think Precious was doing anything wrong. Yes, because I always allowed my children to bang on furniture and doors when I was running errands with them. Imagine that I could be so backward that I might think about other peoples' property and work environment.

I wasn't mean, or ugly, or rude, I just went to the door and kindly, with a smile (was it too disingenuous--should I have scowled?) asked if Junior could move away from the door because I was on the phone (I lied, but they can't see my desk from the door). I got attitude for poking my nose in her upbringing style.

I went to lunch. Why fight? And yet, every time I throw in the towel it's another victory for the kooks.