Aggrieved

I don't like reading my daily newspaper as much as I once did. A new kind of "typo" is here to stay, I am told (the result of the computerization of proofreading "efforts"). Sentences appear commonly now, not with misspelled words but with missing ones: articles, relative pronouns, an A.W.O.L. verb here….an escaped conjunction there. It now joins the ranks of old tried and true irritants like cub reporters who proclaim a mugging to have taken place in Woodside, when the address is clearly of a bar in Woodhaven or the misdirection of a "continued on page 34" advisory that rightly should have listed page 46 as the relative article's conclusion's correct location. The drip-drip-drip of life's inaccuracies, instances of carelessness and/or indifference to the everyday business of life in these United States, is hardly limited to the mediocre state of journalism in the post print culture of 21st century America. How few are the times that one hears today a telephone operator or business' receptionist respond to your request for someone or some service with the simple courtesy of "Thank you. One moment, please."? Harried switchboard operators in a 1940s film, answering seemingly, dozens of calls per minute, unfailingly utter these words each time, as they manically insert, pull out or re-insert plugs into and out of their board.

Today, the party, IF it answers promptly and is not heard sharing some banter with a fellow sluggard/receptionist before responding or has not dropped the receiver (not having found the juggling of a candy bar and his or her telecommunications equipment too daunting a task) will almost invariably respond to your detailed request for Mr. So-and-so at such and such an extension with a deafening silence that tells you absolutely nothing about several critical bits of information: answers to your questions that you need and are, in a reasonable world, perfectly and justifiably entitled to, such as, 1.did this customer "service" person hear my request?; 2.did this person understand my question?; and 3.is this person about to attempt to succeed in connecting me with the person I need and/or about to help provide the answer about the product or service I need? No, human communication is just too bothersome for these taciturn persons. It's enough apparently, for them (in their "minds") that they know what you said and the fact that they are (you hope) complying silently with your requests is all you can or need expect. Repeat of your words, i.e. the prudence of redundancy and the helpfulness and secure feeling that simple corroboration bestows on an anxious customer is part of a lost art of courtesy and a defunct social lubricative that limits stress and is a simple kindness that costs nothing, except the effort involved in thinking of another person.

What about punctuality? In recent years, it seems that the old fashioned champions of this virtue have actually made headway despite the generally strong headwinds of modernism that advise typically: "do your own thing." Self-interest and economic hard times have perhaps been the main reasons for not denigrating this ancient virtue of the world of etiquette. Advice columns and all kinds of literature have, then and now, always urged respect for the unassailable value of timeliness when interviewing for a job. It's not recognized however, as a hard and fast rule in all social situations. Amazingly, attendance at mass in Catholic churches, has, impressionistically for me, for quite a few years, not been part of this pro-punctuality way of doing things. I cannot remember, in the last seven or eight years since I returned to regular church attendance, a single occasion that did not feature at least a dozen or more individuals or even families entering pews as much as fifteen or twenty minutes after a mass has begun. Websites that I have read, by, for or about Catholics contained no heated discussions, at least that I could find, on the subject. One opinion seemed to chide those who took exception to those who did not favor impressing upon congregants the importance of punctuality. It seems that in many circles, gainful employment is more important than communing respectfully with one's Maker.

What else? Life's too short, but here's my list anyway of vexations to the spirit that begin to make one perhaps thankful that "all things pass away."

1.Drivers who fail to signal, especially when it affects your safety or ability to make a good judgment about a traffic situation;
2.Drivers who double park and sit in their cars on a narrow street until you begin to try to squeeze past them and they then begin to move forward (or backward!);
3.Persons who do not cover their mouths when coughing in a small public space, invariably, it seems, when I am in their line of fire;
4.Persons who enter their parked vehicles as you approach in yours and you indicate with your turn signal (or not: they simply are likely aware of your presence) that you are waiting to enter their space when they pull out AND THEY DO NOT PULL OUT FOR A VERY, VERY LONG TIME. I assumed that my grumpiness and impatience were factors that were making it only seem so, until I read a number of reports by psychologists on the subject of parking spaces, particularly in crowded urban centers. Folks, the social science experts tell us, don't wish to be rushed and the territory of their little, but priceless bit of occupied real estate is sovereign and theirs to relinquish, only when they're damned well good and ready to do so. It could be an unconscious behavior or not, but it is real with only slightly varying time frames: long, longer and interminable. Statistically, it has been shown that there is a significant increase in the time elapsed before departure if there's a waiting party compared to no one seeking the space. I guess regarding this one, it's too deep a phenomenon in the human psyche for me to kvetch about with any great hope of improvement;
5.Telephone calls that are not returned;
6.Persons who wear shorts in February in order that their tattooed calves may be viewed by an assumedly adoring public;
7.Deliverymen who deliver packages and have, with superhuman mercurial powers, managed to start their trucks' engines and to pull away as the last vibrations of my doorbell's chimes are still tickling my eardrums.
8.Entry no.7 is only trumped by this one: the nearly 100% rate of instances in which United Parcel Service drivers' deliveries are accompanied by no doorbell ringing, knocking, or even a shout out. Packages left outside both the main door and screen door is not a rarity either. Guess that the incidences of stolen parcels is infrequent enough to make the risk worth it relative to the time saved in delivering items to addressees with the speed of greased lightning.
9.Just having to interact with most brain dead individuals in most "gemeinschaft" situations. Sure, pumping gas or ringing up groceries might cause one's mind to wander, but this presumes that there's something between the ears of those who often return my change with barely extended hands, without any eye contact or even a grunt in response to my "thank you." On occasion I've yielded to the temptation to not extend my hand sufficiently to reach the cashier's: just to see how long it takes for the reverie (or coma) to abort itself and for the somnambulist in my midst to be jolted into wakefulness.
10.Still giving a damn and feeling the need to write these complaints down: I look forward to a day when I join the ranks of the great masses whose apathy and indifference frees them from these aggravations and psychic chafings. Ah, "to sleep, perchance to dream!" Nope. That might mean wishing, hoping, planning, praying…too much like life and rife for more disappointments. Much better: LIGHTS OUT!