It's time now for another installment of Archetypes of Infuriation! If you remember from last time we covered some of the various ways people anger even the most stoic of people. This edition is no different, so lets bellyflop right into the rage:
The "My coffee is more important than my children" jerk -
I know what they say: "it takes a village to raise a child". But before we get ahead of ourselves, lets read into that. What does it say exactly? It says to "raise" a child. Nowhere does it say that it takes a village to watch your child for you while you order a VentiSoyMilkNoFoamDoubleShotVanillaDecafMotherFucking latté.
Just because it requires every iota of your cerebral cortex focussing like Zeus' laser beams (thats right, he had lasers, bone up on your Homer!) just to be able to recall and form your mouth around the staggering complexity of your beverage order does NOT mean that you can forget the fact that, as of a few months/years ago, your loins bore fruit.
You clearly remembered to feed and clothe this tiny little person on a relatively regular basis, because he/she remains alive to this day, so why do you just now forget it exists? Everyone else notices your child removing an unpaid-for juice box and proceeding to open it, WHY DON'T YOU?
When your order has finally flopped wetly out of your slathering mouth and normal brain function is working to claw its way back and you finally notice that your child is happily sipping on stolen juice, don't YELL AT HIM! You're getting a drink, God Dammit he wants a drink too! That's the fifteenth amendment: freedom of sneaking a juice box when your parent or guardian forgets you exist. Call congress! They'll agree with me.
The Umbrella Twins -
"Oh no, its raining outside. Oh well, good thing we each remembered our umbrellas."
"Hey, have you ever noticed that just one of our umbrellas is wide enough to cover me, you, five of our friends and the entire city of Detroit?"
"Why yes, I have noticed that. But lets not share, if we share umbrellas, the terrorists win."
Ever see those two people walking down the sidewalk a good eight feet apart only because the massive size of their umbrellas? Just because you are afraid of a single drop of water staining your loafers doesn't mean I should have to tromp in the bloody gutter just to accommodate your gigantic brollys. Scooch the hell over!
The Bastardly Buffet Butter -
(Props go out to reader Rebellion for bringing this one to my attention through the comments section. Although I did come up with the title for this, his entry was way too hilarious for me to steal, so it is linked here.)
This doesn't just apply to buffets though. There are Bastardly Butters everywhere we go. One prime example that springs infuriatingly to mind (this time not on America's roadways) is in grocery stores. The "self-checkout" zone is a strange place, truly the Twilight Zone of the shopping experience. You may walk into this area a wholesome and happy human being, but walk out a shattered and crumpled husk of sadness. This is due, mainly, to the Bastardly Butters.
These assholes see you standing there, know that you're waiting to check out, KNOW that you have been there since before time began, but find crafty ways to convince themselves that they deserve to go ahead of you. "Yeah he has been here for 10 minutes, but he is probably waiting on that other self-checkout station" or, "well, I only have one item and he has one and a half... I see that bubble gum he's trying to hide" or "I suck and hate everyone and I do what I please!" or "blahhblahhblasahioenasdhfoweakdlllffddaj".
Don't cut in front of people, people! It's not that God Damn HARD!
Tune in next time for more Archetypes of Infuriation. Once again, any comments or suggestions will be read and appreciated!