Let me get this off of my chest, because I have a feeling you don’t know this already. Women, you can ignore this. This doesn’t pertain to you because you should already know the rules on this one. Guys, listen up. Unless you see an actual baby’s head exiting a woman’s private area, do not assume that she is pregnant. And never, I mean, never ask her if she is pregnant unless, again, you actually see her giving birth or going into labor. I know modern fashion makes it difficult to tell. There are a lot of maternity looking shirts (they cover a multitude of sins) that are very billowy and can make a woman (cough, cough) look like she is pregnant. Don’t ask her if she is pregnant. You have a fifty-fifty chance of being wrong and hurting her feelings. You are not prepared for whatever response she gives anyway. I’ll repeat this, because I just don’t think you’re hearing me. Don’t. Ask.
I know that women do it too but more often than not, it’s the men that are completely tactless when it comes to this sort of thing.
This very thing happened to me today. I’m kind of bitter about it, if you can’t tell. It’s completely my fault because I wore a loose fitting shirt with an empire waist. I did look pregnant. But the difference is that I can say that. You can’t. I ask now to the guy who asked me if I’m “expecting again,” didn’t your mother teach you any better? And, why do you need to know so badly? Apparently, there is a severe shortage of manners in the good ole’ US of A. We’re overstocked with opinions but apparently not enough manners. And not just when it comes to this subject. Everywhere I go now it seems like I am always running into the rudest of people. They are at the grocery stores, malls, parking lots, even in the most seemingly safe places of all, churches. Are my defenses on a super-sensitive setting?
Let’s look at the evidence.
Exhibit A: The woman at Target who stared at me for what seemed like forever. Didn’t your mother tell you not to stare? Well I’ll tell you. Don’t stare. That’s not polite. When my son is staring at someone I say those very words to him. It’s only cute for a second when you’re a baby. When you’re an adult, it’s creepy and rude. And for that matter, hey buddy, my eyeballs are up here. Rude.
Exhibit B: Please and thank you. I can’t tell you how many people do not say those two simple words. Ever since my son started talking I’ve been drilling those two words into his head. He will say please when he asks for something. He will say thank you when he receives it. Because I refuse to have a child who thinks he’s entitled to everything, who thinks the world was somehow created for him alone (it was, I just don’t want him to think that) and who thinks that everyone owes him something. Besides snobbishness and bigotry, my biggest pet peeve is an undeserved sense of entitlement. Don’t be a jerk. Nobody owes you anything. Be thankful.
Exhibit C: Parking Lots. They turn normal people into homicidal maniacs. Here is where I was almost broadsided by a woman driving a jeep making a left turn while I was in the oncoming lane. There was no one behind me. All she had to do was wait for me to pass her and then she could go ahead and make her left turn. She inched out as I was starting to pass. She inched out some more and folks, I’m not exaggerating, she came within inches of hitting me. I stared right at her, which isn’t rude in this scenario, but a completely appropriate response. I held my hand out like I do to my son to indicate “WAIT!” It’s a good thing I was all alone in the car because my Irish/Italian/Whatever-I-am temper flared up and I screamed it. "WAIT WOMAN!" She laughed at me. Rude.
Exhibit D: Fast food. The only place I want to go out to eat anymore is Chick-Fil-A. They are the only restaurant where a prerequisite for working there is good manners. Must be because they are a Southern based company. They make their employees say please and thank you, or sorry about your wait. They say things like “it will be my pleasure.” This is a ridiculously high standard for fast food chains. I don’t think other places realize the current state of the economy. Hey, kid behind the counter, I know you’re only fifteen, I can tell by the constellation of pimples on your cheeks, but didn’t your manager teach you to say, May I Help You? This should be standard procedure but I’m convinced it’s not included in training sessions anymore. I’m not lucky to be eating your food, I say to a certain local fast food chain. You’re lucky I’m spending my tightly budgeted money on your fried stuff. So tell that little hipster with the nose ring behind the counter to say thank you after I’ve ordered. Or at least hello as I walk up to the counter.
Since I’m on a roll with these grievances and feeling my most Mr. Heckles, let’s talk about “hello.” When someone you know looks right at you and says “hello,” you should go ahead and say hello or hi back. It won’t kill you. I get the whole “stranger danger” thing but I’ve seen people I actually know, have known for years, who didn’t say hello to me when I said it to them. No kidding, this happened to me in a church. I looked right at someone I knew and said hello in my most chipper voice and nothing. Nada. No acknowledgement whatsoever. She couldn’t be bothered to say “hello.” In church. Come on, don’t be rude in church. God doesn’t want us to be rude anywhere but especially in church. I don’t want to be your best friend, lady. I’m just saying hello because my mother taught me good manners. It’s one thing to be quiet, or shy, and doing your own thing. It’s another thing to be blatantly rude to someone who’s just trying to be nice. In church. It still makes me incredulous. (I know, I know. Forgiveness and all that stuff. It’s a good thing I love God so much and that my faith is not affected by people because I’m telling you, some of his followers are just mean.)
My mom is a saint. She has strict codes about what to say and what not to say, and one of her standards is that if you can’t say something nice about someone, you shouldn’t say anything. She takes it a step further and will stretch and search until she actually finds something redeeming about the person. If a morbidly obese woman walks in the room, my mom will point out the smoothness of her skin or her pretty eyes. We have some relatives who are poor old drunks, but she always notes how talented they used to be or how attractive their kids are. That’s her generous spirit in action. In fact, that’s the very definition of generosity. I’m envious of it. I don’t want to be rude, so I wait to insult people behind their backs, or on my blog. I mean, that’s just good manners.
Of course, my mom never taught me to stand up for myself because it was rude to confront people or to fight. I learned how to fight when I married an Italian. I still have a hard time speaking up for myself, believe it or not. It’s easy to fire off a rant on a blog that nobody reads. It’s quite another to tell someone that no, you may not talk (or not talk) to me that way. Most of the time, when something incredibly rude is said to me, I become completely paralyzed. It’s still shocking to me that grown ups can be so imbecilic. It’s unnerving.
I’d like to enter 2011 with a better attitude which is why I’m unloading these things now. I’d like to just leave them here and be done with them. No more wasting anymore time complaining about things I can’t change. I can’t teach everyone good manners. I confess, yes even perfect little me, that sometimes I myself do not practice good manners. (Although I always say please and thank you. Mama taught me at least that.) I can only be responsible for me and my son. I think that as a mother now I have to make sure my son does not grow up to be a jerk. I want him to be thankful. I want him to acknowledge when people go out of their ways (or if they just do their jobs well) to serve him. I want him to take pride in everything he does so he’s confident and doesn’t need to cut other people down just to build himself up. I want him to be sincere and look people in their eyes, not at their chests, but not to stare for too long. I don’t want him to hurt anyone but on the same token, I don’t want him to get hurt. But I can’t let the fear of him getting hurt justify my being rude to anyone. I have to set the standard. I have to be the example. I don’t want him to be rude, but I also don’t want him to be a door mat or fall victim to rude people. Unfortunately, I’m not everyone’s mama. If I were, oh man, there would be a lot more people who would get the smack put down on them.
Venting complete. Deep breath. Thank you for your time.
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