Things which are not OK

This week I kinda got tired of being OK with things I’m not OK with. Ranging from plastic wrap to people and everything in between, it all just annoyed me.

It started with the trip I took from the “happiest place on earth” to the Orange County Airport. The Uber driver was playing early 1970s heavy metal. It wasn’t that the volume was all that loud or that it was 6:30 a.m. and I hadn’t had time for coffee. It was the discord of Black Sabbath, Metallica, Iron Maiden and Judas Priest and, the driver’s driving: pedal to the metal, slam on the brakes, swerve into the shoulder to avoid rear ending the car in front of us, repeat.

My screams from the back seat equaled those that had emanated from my lungs on the Guardians of the Galaxy ride. My shrieks and howls and more shrieks punctuated by exclamations of “I’m going to die! We’re all going to die!” phased him not one little bit. There were only two things that were OK about that trip: I got to the airport on time and, the money I saved by not tipping him was enough to buy a decent size latte. OK, maybe three things: I didn’t die.

I honestly don’t know how to hide it when I’m annoyed. You’d think after more than six decades on the planet I’d be able to control my face but, no. Annoyance spreads allllll over it from chin to forehead and cheekbone to cheekbone, like anti-wrinkle cream. I try to hold in those deep loud sighs that come when my patience level is down to about one percent. Really, I do. I try sooooo hard not roll my eyes out loud but it hurts so I just let ‘em roll.

Annoyance, like Disney Land, puts me deeply in touch with my inner child and I am six again. I giggle at things I probably shouldn’t. My filter completely dissolves and I say whatever it is I’m thinking. And, from time to time, irritation manifests itself physically resulting in a full blown foot-stomping princess hissy fit. It’s both terribly unbecoming and deeply satisfying.

Yup, I’ve been known to stage a nutty. It happens nearly every time I have to deal with plastic wrap. Whoever invented this stuff and has been marketing it as “convenient” and “easy to use” since 1949 has perpetrated a big ole whammy on consumers. The stuff is just evil. The thin serrated cutting strip on the box doesn’t really cut the plastic wrap but it’ll slice your finger in a jiff. It clings to itself but nothing else. It’s sinister but there it is in the kitchen drawer anyway right next to the aluminum foil and Ziploc bags pretending to be useful. It’s one of life’s great mysteries. It’s one of life’s count-on-able irritants.

I probably would have been successful in managing my annoyance this week if other people would have just managed their stupidity, rudeness and ignorance.

I don’t have pet peeves like most people. I have a whole entire zoo of peeves. The biggest one being people who talk disparagingly about “The Media,” especially when they are talking to me.

Even the nicest people have their limits and I reached mine this week, when I called to interview a man for a truly non-controversial-in-any-way story and he said, “Well, I don’t know you. I don’t trust

The Media. What if I talk to you and you spin things in a negative way? What if you quote me and it’s not positive? What if … What if … What if …”

This was not the first time in my 45 year career that someone has been hesitant to talk to me. Typically when this happens, I use my best soothing mommy voice and coo reassuringly until they cool their jets but, not this week. This week I was simply fed up with being OK with what’s really not OK. Thank goodness we were on the phone cause I could feel my face doing its thing. I heard my eyes rolls before I took a deep breath and spoke with what my daughter and her friends used to call “the voice of God” and said:

“What if Mt. Lassen erupts? What if a Chinese spy balloon falls on your head? What if your new shoes give you a blister? Life is filled with ‘what ifs.’ And why do you think it’s OK to be rude? In one breath you admitted to not knowing me and not trusting The Media. I am The Media. What if I said, ‘I don’t know you. I don’t trust elected officials?’ You’d be insulted, and rightly so. But here’s the thing, I’ve been writing about the people, places, events, politics, businesses, government entities, victories, tragedies, the good, the bad and the ugly in this community for 32 years. How long have you served the community three years, five years, 10 minutes? I’ll match my service, my dedication to this town to yours any day of the week and bet the odds I come out ahead.”

At this point I probably should have wrapped my head in plastic wrap but instead, I took another breath and continued cause, ya know, in for a penny, in for a pound.

“Furthermore, you are either ignorant or confused or both. Reporters, report. It’s politicians, dare I say elected officials such as yourself, CEOs, publicists and commentators who spin so hard it’ll make you dizzy. I can only write a story based on facts and quotes so if the story is ‘negative’ it’s likely because it’s something you’d rather not be made public. Too bad. News is news. And if your quote is ‘negative,’ well that’s all you. I can’t control what comes out of your mouth. So pull up your big boy boxers, take some responsibility and either agree to be interviewed or decline comment but for the love of the Fourth Estate and the First Amendment stop insulting me, stop whining and stop being ridiculous. You are not the victim of some Media conspiracy. You are a small-town elected official and in that capacity it’s your obligation to communicate with your constituency and one of the best ways to do that is through the newspaper so, do you want to talk or not?”

I guess he did because there was no shutting him up after that. I was oddly satisfied but, still annoyed. It was just one of those weeks.