If there is one thing that pisses me off, it’s being stood up. Well, ok, who are we kidding? There are probably a lot of things that piss me off. Because, as has recently been pointed out to me, I’m no longer irritable but in a “constant state of maximum irritation, and therefore incapable of becoming more irritated.” It would appear, ladies and gentlemen (and pooch, should you be reading this, Dozer), that I have a disposition.
Fortunately, outside of work, I think I do an admirable job of hiding this well. I mingle. I giggle. I tell funny stories. (At least, I think they’re funny.) And, you know, I can seem downright effusive at times. Like when Jay called to tell me about David’s acceptance of the proposal, and I managed to scare at least half a dozen folks hanging out in front of the Coffee Messiah with my screamsqueal of delight. So, you know, I’m not all grousing and cursing. I have my perky moments too.
Except, when you push one of those buttons that just really irks me. Like standing me up. Because here’s the thing. If you don’t want to meet me, DON’T SUGGEST IT. Don’t say, oh, hey, how’s about we do X, and then just not do X. If you can’t make it, change your mind, whatever, just call or email and say, “Hey, I don’t think I’m going to be able to do X afterall.” Because really, that’s just low.
Right. And it might not take a huge stretch of logic to get that I had a bit of an experience with that sort of…ahem…behavior recently. And so, being the neurotic little freak that I am, thought I might turn to trusty old Google to find out what an appropriate next course of action might be, mostly because the no-show in question has a copy of a particularly favored book of mine, as well as a CD that I’d really like back.
Yeah, and it should probably come as no surprise that there is a fair amount of advice out there on just what to do in said situations, most of it fairly consistent, as in this tip sheet on www.getgirls.com which I chose as my link because, well, I am amused by the URL. So, apparently, I could call today to find out what’s up, thus giving me an opportunity to suggest various methods of returning the above mentioned literature and music, and perhaps I shall. Although I admit that I am quite partial to Jay’s much more pointed suggestion of sending a FedEx package with a prefilled-in shipping label to effect the desired recovery of these items.
Jay will note, however, that nowhere on this tip sheet does it mention as an appropriate step, “Have your best friend call the offending stander upper from your cell phone during the appointed event in order to threaten him with bodily harm.” Nor does it give any indication that graduates from any particular institute of higher education are more likely to engage in such behaviors than are, say, Yalies (who, we know would never have so little consideration for a fellow human being), thus disproving Jay’s theory that this sort of behavior is well-documented among, as he so charmingly dubbed them, “Harvard fucks.”
At least I had a lovely evening with my dear Jay, who was, as always, enormously satisfying company in any context, and we did have the opportunity to feel quite old while chatting with some fellow Elis whose existence on this planet never overlapped with that of John Lennon. So I’m not actually in a state of maximum irritation at the moment. Just close to it. Which is to say, in warning to those I might encounter today, I’m feeling irritable.