Common Courtesies: WTF Happened To Them?

I’ve decided that a bartender who addresses his male patrons as either “Pard’ner” or “My man” cannot be trusted. But, boy, can he pour a pint of Guinness! Wait, where was I? Oh, yeah, common courtesies…what the fuck happened to them?!

While perusing at Powell’s this morning, several people passed between me and the bookshelves with nary a word. A simple “Pardon me” would’ve sufficed. Two words, three syllables. Takes less than two seconds to utter. What’s worse is that some of them were the bookstore employees. What, did they lose the ability to be courteous somewhere along the way? Obviously, this bugged me, and I got to thinking about many other common courtesies that appear to be missing these days. In fact, there appear to be more common discourtesies exhibited by people around me. Maybe I’m old fashioned, but here is a brief list of actions that cause me to shake my head in dismay:

Sneezing and not excusing oneself. I know it’s a natural anatomical process, but sneezing is still disruptive. The least a sneezer can do is apologize for interrupting the calm. It irks me even more so when I observe the sneezer simply going back to business after the sneeze, as if his/her despicable act of, oh I don’t know, spreading disease, was as common as breathing. Coughing without covering one’s mouth is a similar disdainful habit.

Not allowing older people to go first. With whatever. I get so incensed when I witness a person disregard or ignore the elderly. What’s five to ten seconds of your life holding the door open for an elderly person? It’s nothing, but it goes a long way. Not giving up one’s seat to the elderly also peeves me to no end.

Not saying “thank you” after receiving something. I mean, this is one of the basics. Again, I see this too often with today’s youth, but it’s even more infuriating when it’s between two adults, as if they’ve become too damned busy to say two little words. I don’t care who you are but even the singular “thanks” would be nice to hear.

Laughing too loudly in public spaces. I’m like the next guy when it comes to funny-as-hell jokes–I laugh. But, there is a fine line between showing appreciation for jokes-well-told and horrifically cackling at the annoyance of those around you. I have an acquaintance whose maniacal laughter can be heard a block away whenever she is even slightly drunk. What’s weird (and annoying) is that she laughs that way, too, even while sober. It’s embarrassing and, ultimately, quite irritating. Of course, I don’t have the guts to confront her about it, but, c’mon, she has to hear herself.

Hogging the condiment counter at the Starbucks. Listen, you’re probably still trying to wake-up, which would explain why you’re simply standing in front of the condiment counter, staring blankly into space while stirring the Splenda into your Americano. But, c’mon, the line of people behind you are also trying to wake-up. Step the fuck aside and continue stirring, you zombie moron. Clearly, this one irritates me a lot.

Come to think of it, maybe this brief list has more of personal pet peeves than discourtesies, but I’m certain the lists are not dissimilar. And, while I cannot change society all by myself, I hope that this blog entry increases awareness of these examples of poor manners, and bring us one step closer to being the truly civilized society we claim to be. If nothing else, just stop hogging the condiment counter!

“Calling You” by Blue October

Thanks to the awesomeness of 94.7 FM “Alternative Portland”, I discovered a Texas band called, Blue October. I dig their CD, and was drawn to it by their song, “Into The Ocean,” from their 2006 album, “Foiled.” But, after digging around, I found their gem of a song called, “Calling You,” from their 2003 album, “History For Sale.” I don’t know why I like this song so much, but I do. I think it’ll make some really cool wedding song.

To Beard or Not To Beard

So, I’m thinking about getting rid of the facial hair that I’d started sporting since I left the hotel industry. More specifically, when I left a hotel company that mandates the absence of facial hair from their male employees, with the only caveat being if facial hair was required for medical conditions or to conceal facial scars. (Why, oh, why did I never receive any scars from those wild bar brawls?!) So, for nearly twenty years, I had the face of a baby (and by “baby” I mean the drunken kind), and would often be mistaken for someone who’s a lot younger than I truly am. Nowadays, I’m rarely carded at bars. It probably doesn’t help that I choose to walk with a cane and often begin inebriated tirades with, “In my day…!” (I’m kidding about the cane part.)

The thing is, I can’t grow facial hair quickly enough. It took me literal months to develop my goatee. So, the thought of shaving off what little I do have adorning my upper lip and chin terrifies me. What if I can’t grow it back? What if this was the one chance my facial follicles had of proliferating? What if I’d forgotten how to shave? Shouldn’t the potential danger to my delicate epidermis be a bigger concern?

My very funny grandmother’s first words every time I have the pleasure of interacting with her is “Shave it off, fool!” I guess she’d just gotten so used to seeing me without facial hair that my current aesthetic displeases her immensely. However, I like my goateed look. I know this is vain but facial hair enhances my grimace, and no one should be deprived of that. Plus, facial hair is manly, a sign of virility. (Wikipedia said so.)

Sigh. Anyway, I’d decided that whatever I decide to do with my facial hair will happen on December 22nd, when I begin my Christmas–er, I mean holiday–vacation. (I don’t want to piss off my Muslim readers…) I guess we’ll all see.