I always make one major New Year’s resolution to improve myself…the big winner?
To be more tolerant toward others.
Of course now I want to change my mind and get it off the table since I just got annoyed at the waitress at The Viand. The ink on 2013 hadn’t even dried yet and I’ve already had a slip.
My pal Jed, who I was with, said I was perfectly legit in calling her name, not to be confused with names, from across the room. “It is her job to wait on you after all,” he kindly said. Of course this made me feel like the exact entitled type of person I simply hate. Here she is waiting tables at 6 in the morning and I’m chomping at the bit because my tea is cold. Yes, feel free to call me names.
I do hate to wait for anything which is why you never, ever see me in a line. I want to walk in, walk out and that’s that. Wouldn’t matter if I needed blood. I’d simply order the ambulance driver to hit another hospital, assuming I was conscious that is.
Well, welcome to the world Susannah, that’s just not how things work. Of course I don’t believe this. I feel fighting it is the answer and you know how that goes. Nobody wants to wait on you. They whisper in your wake. “Ugh, don’t you hate her? It’s your turn by the way. Alright, let’s flip for it.”
The other problem I have is my need to be well mannered. This gets in the way of my impatience. I say things like, Excuse me, but you’ve ignored me for far too long so I’d like to see the manager and by the way, that color blue looks great on you.
When I asked Jed what he thought he suggested medication.
Yes, I could anesthetize myself in order to put up with more but would that really count if I was in a semi coma? No, the challenge would be to train myself to endure life’s little twists and turns with drug free courage.
What am I saying?
Why didn’t I give up Starbucks cinnamon buns, my second choice of reform. And it was so close too. Tolerance won I think because I was in Starbucks having one when I was debating either, or. They are so sweet and sticky and let’s face it, life is too short to be deprived of all that sugar, so you can see the spot I was in.
I also could have given up criticism but then what would I write about if I couldn’t make fun of everybody?
No, tolerance is it. The next time Roxanne the waitress feels make-up is more important than my breakfast needs I’ll just have to wait it out. I’ll sit demurely until that lip line of hers is perfectly applied. I might even offer her a few tips like, it might help if you weren’t on the phone.
However, if I’m having trouble doing this I will politely excuse myself, go into the ladies room and scream.
Now that’s a plan.