Alkon - I see rude people: one womans battle to beat some manners into impolite society

I See Rude People

One womans battle to beat some manners into impolite society

AMY ALKON

Copyright 2010 by Amy Alkon. All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the United States Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced or distributed in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

ISBN: 978-0-07-160022-4

MHID: 0-07-160022-1

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In memory of Catherine Seipp

Yes, Barry, its me, a total stranger, calling you on your cell phone.

Who are you? Who are you? Barry asked, again and again. I dont know you.

No, you dont, but I know lots of things about you, Barry! Yes, I know lots and lots of personal details about you... down to your name and phone number, which you shouted into your phone at Starbucks, not caring in the least whether the rest of us wanted to hear all about you or not.

Barry was speechlessfor a change.

Just calling to let you know, Barry, that if youd like your private life to remain private, you might want to be a little more considerate next time! Bye!

Just because you have a self doesnt mean you should express it. I know, I know... as the Barrys of the world, commandeering the airspace of every coffee shop, grocery store aisle, and post office line inform me, ITS A FREE COUNTRY! ITS NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS! And then, theres my favorite: ITS A PUBLIC PLACE! Yes, Barry, it is, which means you share it with a lot of other peoplepeople whod rather not have their thoughts bullhorned away by the revelation that youre in Starbucks, youll be home at six, and you have genital warts.

Were all sick of this, yet its the rare person who squeaks out a word of protest to the perps. If anything, when I shush a cell phone bellower or ask them to pipe down, some other restaurant or caf patron being forced to listen to them will come to their abusers defense, snapping at me, If you dont like it, go to the library! (Uh, I wasnt aware the librarians had started serving breakfastand besides, the library is no place to escape all the asshats yakking it up on their cells.)

What gives? Did somebody put something in all the latte foam that gave the entire nation Stockholm syndrome, where the hostage goes all cuddly on their kidnapper? It seems so simple to me: We need to tell these thought-snatchers that our attention doesnt belong to them, that their right to have loud, dull cell phone conversations ends where our ears begin.

When I ask the brave defenders of others noise pollution if theyre actually enjoying it, nobody ever stands up, pounds their chest, and says, I live to hear some lady take over the psychiatrists waiting room with the story of her car trouble!

Picture a woman, early 50s, voice all broken glass and gravel, shouting into her phone and out to a captive audience of patients, patients friends and families, all of them reading magazines and talking in low tones to one another. And lucky you, you only have to picture this. I was one of 15 or so hostages forced to listen to the woman power-babbling into her phone for 20 minutes straight:

Shut up and listen! Cars have four motor mounts, not five. So, I should go over to Eddies and have him drive the car around the block. And Im at Dr. Jaffes and maybe Ill come over when Im done.... I wont throw a fit! I wont throw a fit!... Just give me five minutes. Can you do that? Can you do that?... Thats fine... thats reasonable. Okay... alright.

Okay... alright... so that was one situation where I kept my big red trap shut. Since the woman was waiting to see a shrink, I figured there was a chance she was not only madder than a bag of ferrets, but violent, too. I likewise make it my business to just suck it up whenever somebody barking into a cell phone is wearing one of those gangland shower caps or looks like they might be armed. But, whats weird to me is how many people always suffer in silence, even if its just a 13-year-old mall brat like, yeah, ya know-ing so loud in line behind them that its impossible to hear the counter guy trying to take their lunch order.

If it isnt fear of bodily injury that keeps people from speaking up, its probably fear of verbal confrontation, or maybe theyre just not that practiced at it. Im a syndicated advice columnist with somewhat controversial views, so I regularly get mail from readers that opens with something like Dear Bitch. (If youre going to refer to me as Bitch, maybe drop the Dear?) I guess its a little easier for me to take the heat after telling somebody, usually in somewhat politer terms, to put a muzzle on it.