Ranty McRant

I finally broke down and found a camera shop that could clean my Nikon without having to give her up for a week. The withdrawal would have been too severe. (I also discovered that I should NEVER try to clean it myself ~ bad juju can ensue.) That meant while I waited, I spent half a day in Big City randomingly driving around, aimlessly ambling through a couple of malls; arguing with Lee, my Aussie GPS tour guide; and rummaging through musty antique (read: junk) shops.

It also gave me an opportunity to embrace my inner curmudgeon spirit animal. I think it’s a grey-muzzled squirrel. Much more grouchy than some dumb Honey Badger.

Some much-needed purging of ranty-McRant energy is necessary… for your reading pleasure, some insights from my trip to Big City:

Banks ~
If you are going to make a transaction at the drive-thru ATM, please have all the paperwork done ahead of time.

Seriously, do not sit there for 10 minutes while filling out your deposit slip, then pulling a deposit envelope out of the drawer, then endorsing the check, putting it in the envelope, signing the envelope, inserting it into the deposit slot, grabbing the receipt, sitting in your car and rearranging your wallet ~ as four cars pile up behind you in line.

THEN, once you FINALLY get the hell out of the way, don’t park your oversized soccer mom van at the parking lot exit, blocking the driveway so all those people behind you who only took 30 second to finish their transactions can’t get around you, while you continue to file your paperwork in your Dooney & Bourke checkbook knock-off.

Fast-food drive thru ~
It’s not necessary to have your brights on while creeping through Micky D’s #1 window at dinner time, there’s nothing to see there folks.

The position you’ve managed to get into behind me puts the beams from your headlights shining directly in my side/rearview mirror, and stays there for the excruciatingly long five minutes we are in line waiting for our heart-attack sandwiches. It’s totally permissible to turn off your headlights, or at least turn them down to your parking lights.

I turn my lights down, you turns yours down, the guy behind you turns his down… everybody wins, and no one’s corneas are burnt out.

Speaking the truth ~
Once again for those who were absent the day we discussed this the last time… just because you think something, just because you CAN say it…. doesn’t mean you have to. Knowing when NOT to speak your mind is NOT the same as lying.

Because you think it’s true doesn’t make it right, and continuing to tell people they’re going to hell because they don’t agree with you, also isn’t right.

Ten items or less ~ 
Ten means ten. Not that all 137 ingredients it takes to make dinner counts as one item, or that because that line is shorter and you want to get out of the grocery store faster the limit is waived, or because you’re a butt head you can get into any damn line you want rule supersedes the express lane rule.

It’s a little thing I know, even bordering on petty… but you’re not entitled to special privileges, nor is your time more important than mine therefore you should be able to do whatever you want.

And… cashier? Get a spine and tell these morons to get out of the express lane.

Fast lane and bright light ~
You know who his is ~ the asshat who comes out of friggin’ nowhere, racing like a bat out of hell, bearing down on your back bumper so close you can smell his breath.

If I’m in the left lane, it’s for a reason. Either I’m getting around slower traffic, or trying to find a less jarring side of the highway. You have to get in so far up my tailpipe that I can see only your windshield in my rearview mirror, then flash your bright lights at me?

Dumbass! If I could get over I would. If I could get over then you should be able to get around me…. don’t be a jerk.

I’m usually very good about keeping a check on who’s behind me and will get out of other drivers’ way, but this, this kind of stuff just makes me want to gear down to the exact speed limit and not change lanes for any reason, except if I can cut you off behind an even slower moving car.

I am the Queen of passive aggression.

Submitted as part of Shell’s “Pour Your Heart Out” writing prompt at Things I Can’t Say. Please stop by to read the other posts, and give a little comment love.