On this morning’s walk, I passed a couple walking in the opposite direction on Third Street. We made eye contact and I greeted them with a cheerful “Good morning!” In response, the female member of the couple mouthed “hello,” without actually making an audible sound, and then they walked by.
Frankly, this encounter irritated me.
I’ve noticed a lot more of rampant mouthing behavior lately, and I don’t know why. Obviously, mouthing a greeting is acceptable if, for example, you see a friend sitting down the church pew at a funeral service, or in some other quiet, somber place where an audible statement would be inappropriate. Or if you don’t want your six-year-old to know that you and your spouse are considering heading off to Chuck E. Cheese’s. But now mouthing has moved out of the church and funeral parlor to everyday encounters on public streets, where an oral communication is perfectly fine — indeed, expected, polite behavior.
What’s caused the mouthing boom? Do people just think they’re being sophisticated, or is it because they can’t condescend to give a verbal greeting to a member of the unwashed masses? Either way, I think it’s rude, and it kind of ticks me off.
The new British Airways seats will be set at a “gentle recline” configuration — i.e., two or three inches from the straight-backed dining room chair-type setting — but otherwise immobile.
Speaking as a frequent economy class airline passenger, I am all in favor of BA’s decision, and I hope other airlines quickly follow suit. I never recline my seat, and I despise people who, as soon as the takeoff chime sounds, recline their seats to the maximum extent and crash into the knees of the passengers in the row behind. In my view, people who do that are incredibly rude, and obviously are focused totally on themselves. And really — do the few inches of reclining really make all that much difference, when you consider that you are horribly inconveniencing and cramping the unfortunate people who happen to be seated behind you?
In my view, the immediate/maximum recliners are almost, but not quite, as ill-mannered as the parents of unruly children who shrug when their kids won’t stop kicking the back of the seat in front of them. If a seat design change eliminates their opportunity to ruin my flight, and allows for more affordable fares at the same time, it’s a great development.
It would be nice if people voluntarily behaved in a civilized fashion, but when they won’t, I’ll happily settle for technological modifications that prevent the rude behavior in the first place.
Lately I’ve seen more pedestrians walking and talking on their cell phones at the same time. It bothers me.
It’s not the lack of politeness, necessarily. Although it is impolite — imposing your side of your inevitably loud cell phone conversation on every hapless person who unfortunately happens to be within earshot — anyone who lives in the modern world has long since learned to endure thoughtless louts who can’t conform to basic social norms in more ways than we can count.
No, what really bothers me is that people talking on their cell phones while walking always act like they think they’re the coolest thing ever. They’re inevitably walking, the elbow of the arm holding the phone jutting out just so, with the smuggest imaginable look on their faces. It’s as if they think that getting or making a phone call in a public place is somehow an affirmation that they stand alone at the center of the universe. “Look at me!,” their demeanor screams, “I’m an incredibly important person! And I’ve got friends, colleagues, and clients who want to talk to me even when I’m crossing the street in a busy downtown area!”
This must be a carryover from the early days of cell phones, when handhelds were rare and people were curious to see people talking on bulky wireless devices. But those days ended during the Reagan Administration. Now cell phones are like opinions and certain body parts — everybody has one. The difference between the walking talkers and the rest of the world is that the walking talkers don’t have the decency to remove themselves from the public right-of-way, by sitting on a bench or standing off to the side while they complete their call. Everyone else has the good sense and manners to not inflict their conversations on random passersby. Unlike the walking talkers, everybody else has the instinct to not act like a churlish buffoon.
So here’s a news flash to the walking cell phoners — you’re not cool, you’re boorish. Please recognize that, and if you can’t stop talking on your cell phone in public, at least have the decency to wipe that smug look off your face.
Tonight I was in a hospital in Columbus, Ohio, and a guy was there wearing flip-flops. As we walked down the hall he flapped loudly along, drawing our attention down to floor level, and we all got to admire his feet.
Call me a crank, but I think a guy wearing flip flops in a hospital at night is unforgivably impolite. I don’t mind people of both sexes wearing flip flops at a pool, or on the beach, or at an informal backyard barbecue on a hot summer night. I give kids a pass, too. But there is a time and a place for everything, and a grown man wearing flip flops in a public building when the temperature is about 56 degrees outside is just not right. When you add in the fact that it’s a hospital it seems even more inappropriate.
I know we’ve gotten increasingly informal in our society and become accepting of things that once would have been unthinkable. I’m old enough to remember when people actually got dressed up for airplane flights; now when you board a plane you often feel like you’ve intruded upon an over-sized sweatpants modeling convention. We’ve become a society of appalling slobs.
I recognize that, in the grand scheme of things, a guy wearing flip-flops in a hospital at night isn’t the worst offense a person can commit — but I also believe in the “broken windows” theory that holds that little things, if left uncorrected, can lead to social disorder. A guy wearing flip-flops is a harbinger of chaos. This is where we need to draw the line.
Yesterday afteroon we checked into a hotel in North Adams, Massachusetts, where we’ll be getting our culture fix at the Massachusetts Museum of Contemporary Art (Mass MoCa). Last night, when we returned after a really fine dinner and let ourselves into our building, we heard a dog begin to bark furiously in one of the other rooms.
The dog’s frantic barking continued as we walked up the stairs to our room, entered it, and closed the door. I could still hear the barking as I sat down to read in our room, and to make matters worse another dog joined in. Given the long history between humans and canines, we’re conditioned to hear dog barks — and once you notice them they are impossible to ignore. You can only hope they stop.
These days more hotels are allowing people to keep dogs in rooms. I am fine with that, so long as the hotels makes sure that the rooms are fully cleaned of dog hair after the visit.
But not all of the responsibility for a successful dog-hotel visit lies with the hotel. To the contrary, most of the responsibility should lie with the guest. If you know your dog is a barker, you simply cannot leave it alone in a hotel room to bark itself into exhaustion at the random movements of other guests while you are out with friends. It’s not fair to the other guests like us, but it’s also not fair to your pet.
If people want to travel with dogs, basic consideration requires that they know their dogs’ barking tendencies and do what is necessary to keep them quiet in a shared setting. If that means staying with them to keep them calm in strange surroundings and missing a night out, so be it. A person who leaves a dog prone to barking in a hotel room, to the loud misfortune of both the dog and other guests, is providing telling information about the kind of person they are — and it’s not positive.
Recently I had an appointment at a designated time. I was there early. The designated time came and went. About ten minutes late, things finally got underway.
I tried not to let this bug me, but deep down it did.
Growing up, I was taught that it is rude to be late. If you say you will be somewhere at a particular time, you should be there. My grandparents were famous for never being late. They drilled their punctuality habits into UJ and me — and old habits die hard.
I recognize that a few minutes isn’t a big deal, but I’ll always believe that not being on time shows disrespect. The tardy person clearly doesn’t value the on-time person’s time. I think it also shows other things. If you can’t organize your schedule to make your appointments, what else are you failing to manage or account for properly?
Some examples of self-centered tardiness are worse than others. The most egregious example I experienced occurred when a guy I was meeting was 25 minutes late, then showed up with his gym bag and breezily said he’d been working out. Seriously? I readily concluded that the guy was a selfish jerk, and I’ve never changed my mind.
If you want to make a good impression on me, please be on time! If you want to start out with two strikes against you, be late. And if you want to be on my shit list forever, bring along your gym bag, too.
Tonight Kish and I went to dinner with friends. We had a nice meal with great company, but the evening also involved an off-putting instance of what I considered to be incredibly rude behavior.
The scenario was as follows. We had reservations for 7 p.m. — the heart of the Midwestern dinner period. When we got to the restaurant, the hostess said the people at our designated table were done with their meal and would be leaving soon. A few minutes later, we were escorted back to the table by a waitress, but the people were still there. The waitress apologized. Rather than head back to the hostess station, we stepped over to the nearby bar area, in plain sight of the table, and waited . . . and waited . . . and waited.
I know the people at the table saw us, because one of their party glanced over at us from time to time. It was obvious we were waiting for them to leave. But they continued chatting gaily over their empty table, and even got a refill of their water glasses as we stood by the bar. Eventually the restaurant found a new table for us, and when we were seated the people were still there, occupying a table and apparently unconcerned that they were inconveniencing others.
It’s a small matter, perhaps — but I never would have lingered at a table under those circumstances, knowing that other people were waiting. Am I wrong in considering the people at the table to be grossly inconsiderate jerks?