Today is a beautiful Sunday and I hope that this blog finds you in good spirits and health. Today, I would like to share with you my top three pet peeves (in no particular order, they all bother me).
*Waiting behind someone at the ATM that seemingly does not know how to use it or is making transactions that would require a teller. Really ma’am, you just going to spend five minutes trying to access your account. Really sir, you just going to forget your ATM security code, probably the most important four digits in your life (your social security is nine digits and your birthday is six digits). You should know those four numbers by heart, blindfolded. Additionally, ATMs are designed to make quick transactions, mainly to get money or deposit a check. If you have to ask the ATM questions, then you are attempting to complete transactions that should be handled during bank hours with a bank teller assisting you.
*Calling someone back who just called me, but they don’t pick up. I missed your call by two milliseconds seconds, and call you back immediately. One minute, sixty seconds, haven’t even passed yet. And then you don’t pick up. Where did you go? The phone should still be in your hand, that’s how quick I called you back. I find myself getting frustrated just typing this section so I’ll move on to the next pet peeve.
*Colored People Time. I know that you have melanin in your skin but that should not constitute being two hours late to functions. Nope. Not at all. The worst is when you get a text or a phone call saying that they are on their way, but you know that is simply code for “I just got out the shower and am getting dressed right now.”
Bonus: Rude children. I just don’t like it. I was raised in a community, one that Hillary Clinton famously referred to as a village, in which all the adults were responsible for you and took an interest in you. So, if Ms. Deborah saw you acting up, she would yell at you and then take you home. If she couldn’t take you home, she would find someway to make sure that she told your mother or father, who in turn will yell at you for whatever action you did, but more so for the fact that Ms. Deborah had to come to their house or call them to tell them about their child’s rude behavior. Most communities aren’t like that, so I have to control myself when I see children behaving disrespectfully to adults, sometimes their own parents. My instinct is to just grab them up and tell them to act with some manners.