American Men: An Update

November 20, 2010 at 8:35 am (Manners, Men folk)
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So I feel it’s my duty to keep you all up-to-date with yet more of my opinions about the ever gracious manners of American men. Today I had a man hold the elevator for me for a record minute and a half (it’s a long time to just stand there) as I slowly strolled across the lobby of my office building.  Then as soon as I got off the elevator – and this one blows my mind – a man who was about to walk through a door about five paces in front of me, stopped, backed out of the door, stood to the side and waited for me to walk through first!! And there wasn’t even a door to hold. It was just a rectangular hole in the wall. Hey… wait a minute… I’ve just had a thought.  Maybe all this American male politeness isn’t as polite as I thought it was.  Maybe all these American men have just figured out that if they let a woman pass in front of them they get a good chance to check out her fine bottom unobserved…  Hmm.  Is this the true reason for the invention of chivalry?

American men? Care to let me know what’s really going on?

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Laughing at things that I shouldn’t

August 14, 2010 at 9:06 am (Akwardness, Manners, Men folk, Rants and raves and foams at the mouth)
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My mother and I suffer from the same affliction: We laugh ourselves silly when people fall over.  Finn seems to have inherited my unfortunate slap stick sense of humor also.  At the beginning of Ice Age 2 where that poor little squirrel/rat is getting bashed about as it tries to keep hold of that nut he laughs himself stupid.

My mother and I are indiscriminatory about who gets laughed at and the circumstances of the accident.  It can be a six foot strapping lad tripping up over his feet or a poor frail old lady taking a tumble as she tries to cross the road.  We laugh as hard at either one.  I think I actually read once that it’s a diagnosable social condition.  Anyway – we laugh when other people fall over and it’s got us both in trouble before now.  My mother’s worse than I am.  But I’m still pretty bad.

So you can imagine what I tough time I had at my rather formal corporate job last week when an air conditioning technician – who by the way took himself very seriously and was ever so slightly overweight AND had a bushy moustache – took a tumble through the ceiling and fell on to my desk…

I laughed!  I laughed so hard I nearly peed my pants right then and there in the office.  I eventually managed to gasp out a, “Are you all right?” as he picked himself, and the parts of the ceiling he’d brought down with him, off the floor. “Yes,” he mumbled and climbed back up the ladder again. O Lordy.  But even though the incident was clearly over and it was plain the poor man’s pride had taken a good beating and even though I should have been pressing my nose back up to the grindstone, I couldn’t stop laughing.

Eventually I had take myself away to the bathroom to calm myself down.

There is clearly something wrong with me.

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How much stupid can you tolerate?

August 11, 2010 at 9:53 am (Manners, Rants and raves and foams at the mouth)
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Inspired by Zohrbak’s posting about stupid people here’s my slant on the situation:

There seem to be a lot of stupid people popping up in my human experience right now.  For whatever reason (maybe I’m just as stupid myself) I keep running into them and it’s starting to actually get me down. The occasional incident of human stupidity you can simply shrug off – but when it starts to occur on what seems to be a continuous basis you begin to ask yourself: How much more stupid can you tolerate?

Here is just one of many examples:

Last week I took my cat to the vet for a ton of injections and then before I left the office, I paid the ginormous vet bill.  A few days later I got a letter asking for payment of the ginormous vet bill and reminding me that if I didn’t quickly pay the ginormous vet bill I would soon be getting charged some ginormous interest. So I called the vet to see what was up.  

Me: Hey I’m calling about a vet bill

Stupid: What is your last name?

Me: Kerley

Stupid (in an irritated tone): No! What is your last name?

Me: Erm. That would be Kerley.

Does Kerley sound like a first name to you? Maybe in rural Missouri? I’ve no idea. And it just went on in that vein for a full twenty minutes ending with the receptionist saying she would look for my payment and possibly get back to me… Look for my payment? Did you mistakenly let it fall inbetween the cracks of the waiting room sofa? Wha?

It’s this level of stupid makes me want to cower in the corner. 

So this incident in isolation isn’t going to send you over the edge but when you combine it with the seventy other stupids I’ve come across this week it starts to erk.

Like the bus driver who blew through a red light this morning and then gesticulated at me as I swerved out of the way to avoid hitting him.

Also my esteemed colleagues who leave the disposable/flushable toilet seat covers languishing on the toilet seat after they have used them.  Really? You expect/want someone else to handle the tissue you just used to seat your naked and possibly germy butt upon before they can have their own toilet experience?

I feel like holding a meeting in a large room, sitting all these people down and just trying to explain…

But they probably wouldn’t get it… because they are stupid.

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The new rules for winking

July 30, 2010 at 9:13 am (Akwardness, Manners, Rants and raves and foams at the mouth)
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I was winked at today.  By another woman, who I didn’t know, who was the same age as me.  No she wasn’t a lezzer – or maybe she was – but either way it wasn’t a sexual kind of wink.  It was a kind of a friendly-here-we-all-are-and-now-I’m-going-to-give-you-a-little-winky type of wink. Receiving that winky type of wink was one of the weirder and funnier moments of my life and if you know anything about me at all – you’ll know my life’s not short of those.  In that weirdly funny moment, winky instantly gained a little piece of authority over me and I didn’t like it…  Not a bit.

I have come to the conclusion that regarding the action of winking, someone somewhere should set some rules.  

So let it be me. Today. Right here. Right now.

If everyone follows the rules set out below, no one need be put out of sorts by a wink ever again.

And so…

After today winking shall only be performed by persons over the age of sixty two.  And those persons over the age of sixty two shall only wink at their own grandnieces and grandnephews (by blood or by marriage) under the age of nine.  And the winking shall only be performed on a Sunday, after lunch, and perhaps also on Christmas day – but only if it falls on a Sunday…

Males over the age of 62 should have a jolly belly and a sizeable beard.  Females should be wearing floral patterns only.

These rules are in effect as of this instant.

Please be aware that the breaking of these rules may lead to uncomfortable squirming and the grabbing for cell phones under the pretense of urgent text message checking…

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The bag on the roof

July 21, 2010 at 9:23 am (british ex-pat, Manners)
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Today I drove off with my handbag left on the roof of my car and I didn’t realize it till I was almost on the freeway.

I was followed by a man wildly beeping at me. ‘Rude American,’ I thought and just kept on driving – only holding back on giving him the finger because I am a ‘polite English person.’  Well, it turns out the poor bastard was only trying to help.

My mother did the same thing once as we were driving back from the beach.  And likewise we were followed by a madly beeping man as we drove back down the sandy roads that took us home. And likewise my mother thought he was insane and only held back from giving him the finger because of her ‘polite’ English restrain.

Looks like there are people that are willing to do a good turn both sides of the Atlantic – despite the risk that they may be given the middle one.

 

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LA traffic versus UK traffic – continued : Pedestrians

July 15, 2010 at 9:43 am (british ex-pat, Manners, Other stuff, Rants and raves and foams at the mouth)
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Not to go all Alan Partridge on you, but I’d like to point out that the rules in the US regarding pedestrians are very different from those in the UK.  In the UK, pedestrians cross the road at their own peril.  If a car looks like it’s going to drive over you – it’s probably best to wait till it has passed before you step out into the road. You are probably less likely to die that way.

In the US – it’s the reverse – which is strange for a car-centric country but over here the Pedestrian is God.  The Pedestrian has the right of way at all times which is logical I suppose in that they don’t have 4000 lbs of metal around their bodies to protect them – but in my opinion the power has gone to the Pedestrians’ head.

Pedestrians over here launch themselves out into the road without a moment’s notice – looking the other way – sometimes tagging a child along with them.  If you hit them – per US law – it’s all your fault.  Many times I’ve thrown my brakes on as someone’s launched themselves out into the street directly in front of my car.  And then, instead of them looking skywards and offering up a sliver of gratitude that they weren’t crushed into a meaty pulp they simply give me a filthy look – or – as on one occasion recently bang the front of my bonnet – sorry, hood. 

O Pedestrians.  On this one Alan, I am with you.

Aha!

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Live in the moment. It’s the more logical place to live because – it is where you actually are.

July 9, 2010 at 9:23 am (Loving life!, Manners, Men folk)
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Infused with the spirit of joyous singledom, last Saturday night my buddies and I went to the Mayan to partake in some hardcore Salsa dancing.  The Mayan is housed in an art deco glory hole right in the middle of downtown Los Angeles: it’s a dance club where the men are men and the women are glorious. At the Mayan, instead of wiggling their crotches at you men extend their hand, bow their heads a little and ask you to dance. And when you’ve finished your set together they escort you back off the dance floor. The old school atmosphere seems to inspire gentlemanly behavior and though there’s incessant flirting, there’s no grabbing, whistling or staring. Only an endless line of men of Latino men, waiting to hold your close and whizz you round the dance floor. Read the rest of this entry »

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Wells Fargo Dealer Services and the courtesy bill

July 3, 2010 at 8:37 pm (Manners, Rants and raves and foams at the mouth)
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So what’s the use of having a blog if you can’t use it to spill forth your bile about awful customer service? So here we are dear readers: Are you ready for a good old fashioned rant? 

Gosh I love this blog.  I don’t have a husband to rant and rave to in the evenings but instead get to type it all out to the world at large. 

Did you know that according to Wells Fargo Dealer Services, receiving a bill in the mail for your car loan is merely a courtesy?

Wells Fargo Dealer Services insist that they are not obligated to tell you when your bill is due. You are supposed to memorize the date (mine is the 20th I’ve since become obliged to memorize) and around that time when you intune that the bill is due – you mail in the check for the assumed amount. 

Now, Wells Fargo Dealer Services haven’t been feeling all that courteous since they switched from Wachovia and for the last three or four months I haven’t been receiving a bill from them at all.  In fact they’ve only been doing me the courtesy of sending me a bill every other month with a gurt late fee wacked on the bottom.

Well – as my late nanny Finn would have said, “I wasn’t about to have any of that.”  I made a call to WTF Dealer Services and what ensued was a part philosophical part metaphysical debate with a very nice lady called Janet who insisted that society’s prior traditions of the merchant delivering a bill and the customer then paying the bill were not a part of her or my reality anymore.  Read the rest of this entry »

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LA traffic versus UK traffic

June 30, 2010 at 9:33 am (british ex-pat, Manners)
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Community question: What is the correct amount of time to wait before tooting at someone after they have ignored a traffic light turning green? 

 I’ve had people toot me a nanosecond after the light has turned – before the synapses in my brain have even had the chance to bond together to tell my foot to move onto the gas pedal.  I tend to wait a little longer than that.  In fact my English sensibilities are such that I’d probably wait till the light changed back to red again before I ever tooted anyone.  But as I know I’ll just get tooted for not tooting I give ‘em a good few hearty seconds before I start sounding the horn.

It wouldn’t happen in England.  Someone would have had to pass away at the wheel before they got tooted for not moving on.  The driver in the car behind the deceased would just sit muttering passive aggressive threats under their breath for about an hour and eventually just give up and drive around them…

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Men and Manners

June 19, 2010 at 9:23 am (british ex-pat, Manners, Men folk)
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“Oh you British – so polite.  Such wonderful manners,” is what I hear all the time from my American friends.  Sorry amigos but you are wrong.  What you have mistaken for English manners is merely restraint and reserve and a deadly fear of offending anyone.

What are manners anyway? The courtly art of putting others at ease I suppose.  But if you are going to define manners by the frequency of performing specific predefined acts: opening doors, offering up your seat, then I will say that American men are light years ahead (or behind depending on how you look at it) of their English counterparts. 

Read the rest of this entry »

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